His arm falls to his side like he can’t physically bear the weight of it.
“Brother,” she says, lifting her hands. “It has been too long.”
He lowers the harpoon gun slowly, his grip loosening.
“No,” he whispers, shaking his head as he redoubles his grip on the gun and lifts it once more. “No.”
“What? Did you think I found Curseclean to stop the sickness? Did you think I would ever be weak enough to succumb to such evil?” The way she says evil sends shivers down my spine. “No, no, no, my Seth. It seems there was only one spine from our mother, and it went to me.”
Sickness spreads over me as realization sinks in.
He made me look. He told me he’d kill Evelyn if I didn’t.
The memory flashes through my mind. The way Seth said the words like he was remembering a death.
He was.
I looked up, and I gave the Crimson away.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
He didn’t just give the Crimson to someone.
He gave it to Evelyn.
Everything around me slows, and I feel my heartbeat pulsing loudly in my ears.
“Did he tell you?” Evelyn croons, looking over her shoulder coyly. “Did he tell you how easily he cracked? We swore we would never, never stoop so low. We would never be that weak.”
Her calm facade cracks, ever so slightly. “And he did. You promised.”
Evelyn’s voice shakes.
It’s then, when I blink back the tears that have started to well up, that I see them—Vessels slowly working their way across the wall. Toward Seth. If they reach him, he’s dead. They might not be able to turn him, or eat him, but they can still rip him limb from limb.
“Seth!” I shriek. In one swift movement, he puts his finger on the trigger. The second it happens, I shut my eyes and dive, but I feel a hand around my throat. The warbled cry that creeps up my crushed windpipe only makes the fingers tighten.
“Evelyn! Let her go!” Seth cries.
I hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears, static threatening to take over.
“Evie! LET HER GO!” Seth cries, and I know he’s begging. He’s begging her to not make him pull the trigger.
The click is soft, and I don’t know why I hear it, but I hear it in my bones.
It’s the sound of never turning back. It’s the sound of Seth’s heart breaking.
He pulls the trigger.
And even as my lungs burn and my hands scratch pointlessly at Evelyn’s arm, I move. She was expecting me to pull backward—not forward—and it throws her off for one second. And a second is all I need. She shrieks as I wrap my arms around her neck and lift my feet, the weight of me throwing her off as I pull us under the water.
The panic tightens its familiar grip, and I wait for the paralysis. But that doesn’t happen. It hovers above my lungs, a threat and a promise.
The harpoon whooshes into the water next to us. Seth pulled the trigger, and even through the rush of the water in my ears, I hear all hell breaking loose up on the surface.
I don’t know why the panic decided not to set in now. I don’t know why I am able to move, but I’m not going to sit and wait for the moment to fade. Yet again, I’m alive against all odds.
I have to move, and have to keep my eyes shut. I scramble, my fingers feeling around blindly on the rocky lagoon floor. My fingernails crack on pebbles, soil, and stone, slick with algae and sediment.
Come on.
Come on.
I crack my eyelids, just for a second, as the water around me lights up with the setting sun just enough for me to see the harpoon, its iron tip sunk into sediment below. I don’t stop to question my luck. With one strong movement, I yank it from the muck and shove myself up, breaking the surface. I swipe the razor-sharp tip out. It cuts across Evelyn’s arm. She lets out a shrill cry that echoes painfully off the walls of the cave.
It’s an overwhelming sound, as if it’s coming from all directions. It’s then that I realize . . . it is.
All the Vessels are screaming in pain, and my mind scrambles. I don’t have time to dissect it. Move, I order myself. Adrenaline overrides terror for the first time in my life, and I’m able to propel myself faster through the water than I have in years.
I keep the harpoon in hand, cutting through the lagoon with powerful strokes. A warm hand grabs my arm, and I break the surface, keeping my eyes shut tight.
“Charlotte!” Seth calls, putting my hand on the edge of the boat. I scramble inside as I hear Evelyn shriek in rage behind us.
“Hold on,” Seth orders.
I check my mirrors. Vessels are pouring out of the tunnel now, drawn by the shrieks of their queen.
Blood pools around her in the water as she cries out. “Get them!”
“Pray this works,” Seth says to me as he pulls the rip cord on the engine.
The gas sputters to life, and the boat lurches forward.
We slip out of the mouth of the cave and cut across the moonlit water, though I swear I can hear Evelyn’s hateful cries follow us for miles.
Chapter 32
WE’RE FARTHER NORTH THAN I THOUGHT, BUT WE can’t chance staying on the water any longer. We ditch the boat on some rocks, and Seth uses the last stake in the harpoon gun to sink it.
Seth and I are soaked, and I hear his teeth chattering as we walk up the shore and into the cover of the woods.
It’s a rocky beach, so there isn’t a chance of them finding our footprints. They could still track our scent, but we’re hoping the seawater dilutes it, at least a little.
It’s almost dawn by the time we find the cover of trees, and neither of us says anything.
It feels like we’ve been walking forever when Seth finally points to a cabin standing on tilted legs in the middle of a thicket of trees.
The faded yellow insignia on the wall tells me that it’s an abandoned ranger station.
He gives me a questioning look, and I nod.
Rest.
We both need rest.
The inside smells like dust and cedar. Everything is coated in a thin film of neglect, but I still almost cry in relief when I see that it’s dry. And stocked.
“We’ll stay here till nightfall,” he says finally. His voice is hoarse as he sifts through the drawers of a dresser tucked along the back wall. He pulls out two dry T-shirts, tossing me one before peeling his wet Henley over his head.
I don’t bother to look away, and I don’t even ask him to turn away as I pull my soaked sweatshirt off and yank the dry shirt over my damp hair.
Seth makes a small noise of triumph, and I look up as he pulls some sweatpants out of the bottom drawer. He holds one up to me. I nod, and he tosses the pants to me.
I’m too tired to try and find a corner and play sixth-grade locker room, so I take my pants off right there.
He turns away, showing me more consideration than I showed him. I notice the redness brushing up the bottom of his neck, but he’s quick to rub a hand over it, like he knows I can see it. I pull my jeans right side in and lay them over the back of a chair as he continues to look through cabinets. He pulls out a walkie-talkie, taking a deep breath before trying the switch. Static fills the air, and Seth crouches down, balling his fists in celebration, the shirt discarded next to him.
“Yes. Hell yes.” He switches channels as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Hey, Falcon, this is Sparrow. You there?”
He lowers the walkie, waiting. There’s no answer, but he sets it on the shelf. “I’ll check again in ten minutes. If they’re still at the safe house, they’ll be doing routine scanner checks.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and I run my fingers through my tangled, salty hair. We are going to have to talk at some point. “How did they get you?” I whisper.
Seth takes a slow breath as my words fill up the room around him. He knows we can’t avoid this forever.
“I couldn’t sleep. Not after—” He stops, failing to find words.
Sin
ce you were on top of me and I breathed you in like it was the end of the world doesn’t seem like a particularly helpful addition, so I swallow it back.
He closes the cabinet and stands. “So I sat on the roof. And I saw you leave.”
“And your first thought was hey, she looks like she wants to be followed?” I ask, annoyance creeping in before I can stop it.
He levels a glance at me. “Is this how it felt when I gave you shit for not letting me drown?”
“Kind of. Yes,” I retort, and he nods, his jaw tightening.
“Then you were right. I was being a pain in the ass. Anyway. Something knocked me out the second I stepped outside.” He walks past me, and I close my eyes as the smell of him—salt and sweat and something sweet—overcomes me. “There have to be some sleeping bags here somewhere.” I pivot, following him as he opens a pair of drawers on the other side of the cabin.
I tongue my front teeth.
“Seth.”
“What.”
I take a step closer to him—his broad back straining against the T-shirt as he searches.
“A thousand parkas and not one fucking sleeping bag?” he growls.
“Seth,” I say again, stepping forward, my voice softening. “You can talk to me.” He doesn’t slow down. I reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, and he slams the drawers as hard as he can. I jump, bringing my hand to my side and taking a giant step back as he rounds on me.
“What? What do you want me to say, Charlotte? You want to talk about how I left out that crucial detail of my sordid sob story? That my sister is a Vessel? That it’s my fault she’s that way? That I was too much of a coward to follow through with our promise and now she’s—” His face crumples, and he brings a fist to his forehead, a dry sob ripping from his chest. “She’s the thing we’ve been hearing about for the past few months? She’s . . . that?”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, reaching out. He shakes his head, and I take a tentative step forward.
His shoulders shake, and I reach out and grab his shirt, bunching it in my fists.
“The only one at fault is your father, Seth. You aren’t a coward for refusing to let her die.”
“Now she’s worse than dead,” he shoots back, opening his eyes. They’re shining with tears, and he tries to turn away from me.
I don’t let him.
I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing. I just go onto my tiptoes and throw my arms around his shoulder, tucking my face against his neck as I squeeze him as tightly as I can.
“She isn’t human anymore, Seth. The things she says . . . she doesn’t mean them,” I murmur, and he goes absolutely still. “It’s not your fault.”
Another sob, and he brings his arms around my waist.
“I’m a liar, Charlotte. I’m not this hero. I’m just a liar.”
And he’s clinging to me like I’m a buoy and he’s drowning. And I’m gripping his neck, fighting the feeling blooming in my chest—the one that flowers in seconds and drops words on the back of my tongue.
“I’m a liar, too,” I say.
He protests, but I can feel the words climbing up the back of my throat. I know they’ll change everything, but I can’t keep them back any longer.
“I’m not the Chosen One,” I whisper.
Chapter 33
I DON’T MOVE AS HIS HANDS STILL ON MY BACK. AS the breath seeps out of his lungs, hissing in my ear.
I keep my face down as he pulls back, but I can feel his eyes on my skin. I shut my eyes as I lift my head, then open them. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t have anything to say that will make it right, and I know that.
But the weight of this . . . this horrible secret, is out. Whatever comes next . . . it’s worth it.
“That’s why I was leaving, Seth. I couldn’t have you all go to the Blood Market because of me. I—”
His eyes flash as he takes a step away from me. “Why?”
“Because the Blood Market is dangerous, and—”
He shakes his head. “Why did you lie about it?”
I have been wondering that myself, and the answers coil inside me, soft and deep. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to be honest.
Rage colors his features, but it’s not obvious. It’s not something I’d notice if I didn’t know him.
The thought crashes through me. I know him.
“Why did you lie to me?” he asks, and there’s not just rage. I’ve hurt him.
Somewhere in this journey, he started meaning something to me. I know the sound of his voice when something exciting happens. I know the way he carries his shoulders when he’s upset.
“I thought Dean was at the Blood Market. I needed to get him back. But he’s not there now.”
Seth walks away from me and sits in one of the folding metal chairs, resting his hands on his knees as he thinks.
“That’s why I was running away, Seth. You’ve got to let me go, and when they check the scanner again, tell them to run. To tell the forces in the woods to go. Tell them I’m a coward. Tell them anything. But tell them that there is no supernatural help coming. No Chosen One.”
He is quiet, and it feels like my chest is caving in on itself.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, knowing it’s nowhere close to being enough.
He rubs a hand over his mouth. “You knew things, Charlotte. At the Jawbone. The Cobalt.”
I look to the grainy wooden floor. “It’s not something I know. My sister Vanessa. She’s the Chosen One. The one the water remade on the night of blood. She has the mark on her rib. I’ve just been hearing what she says in her sleep—they’re weird prophecies or something. Not all of them. I’ve written down hundreds of things and have only figured out a couple. It was . . . it was luck, Seth.”
“Luck. Everything you’ve said that we’ve based our lives on. Luck.”
He pushes himself to his feet, and I can feel the anger coursing through him as he pulls out one drawer after the other until he finds a map.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Finding a way to get to the camp,” he starts, but I don’t hear the rest of what he’s saying, because I’m looking down at the map and I can barely believe my eyes. My mouth goes dry, and I clench my fists as I stare over his shoulder.
“What is that?” I ask quietly. Close up, it’s nothing. But standing, I see it.
Tendrils, snaking along the map. There are about fifteen, all leading inward. I’ve seen it before.
It’s the same shape Vanessa was drawing on the wall.
“The forest outside the Blood Market. It’s an older map, but most of the roads should be functional still. I can get in, I think—”
“No. That,” I breathe, kneeling down and running my hands over the lines.
Seth checks the top of the map. “This is a map of oil pipelines, I guess. Wow, that’s a fucking mess,” he says, studying the map. I run my hand down the tendrils, stopping where they all gather at the coast.
“And what’s this?” I ask.
Seth is still for a second as he considers the map. “That’s the Blood Market,” he says finally.
Follow the black veins, she’d said.
“Charlotte?” Seth asks.
My head feels light, and I topple backward, catching myself on my hands as I inch away.
“Charlotte,” Seth repeats, sliding closer to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod, and he looks from the map back to me. “Shit,” he breathes. “What is it? What did you figure out?”
“Follow the black veins,” I whisper. “Vanessa drew that shape—those lines.”
Seth pivots, pulling the map closer. “The Heart,” he mutters, and I shake my head as I grab his leg, digging my hand into his thigh.
“No. Seth. It doesn’t make sense, and it will get you killed, and I’m probably wrong.”
Seth’s eyes are bright as he looks back to me. “And what if you’re not?”
“I am.” I nod, scooting farther
back from the map. “It’s not possible. I lied. I lied to you. To everyone. I figured out some riddles, but this is different. This is a suicide mission based on my feeling. Based on a riddle.”
Seth shifts, inching his body closer to mine so that he’s facing me. He shoves up on his knees and grabs either side of my face.
“Your feelings saved Abel. They saved all of us. And I don’t care that your sister has a fucking mark on her rib, Charlotte. You are here now. So I don’t know how this was supposed to go, but I’m starting to think the world stopped listening to ‘supposed to’ a long time ago.”
I take a shaky breath, but before I can explain myself, the walkie buzzes.
“Sparrow?” Rielle’s voice sounds through the cabin.
“Tell them to run. Cancel this. Forget it. I can’t—” I don’t know how to say it. I can’t lose you. I bite my lip, not trusting the words that are bubbling up at the back of my throat.
Seth stands. “This is our shot, Charlotte. Chosen or not. Ordained or not. But this is it. I’m going to tell Rielle that we’re alive so they don’t do anything stupid. And in the morning, I’m going to join the fight. You can stay, or you can go. Disappear into the night—I won’t stop you. But I’m going to believe in you.” He grabs the walkie off the shelf and walks to the door, but stops short of going outside. “Even if you don’t.”
We eat green beans out of a can and unroll the sleeping bags I found stowed above the fireplace.
I pretend not to notice the space between us—how he’s keeping his hands laced over his chest, almost so he can make sure they don’t reach for me in the middle of the night.
I wake first, and if he’s surprised I’m still there when he opens his eyes, he hides it well. We pack up, and he hands me a protein bar—Arctic White Chocolate.
I look up, a smile on my lips, but he’s already walking down the path without a backward glance at me.
Chapter 34
I HEAR THE WAR CAMP BEFORE I SEE IT—THE sounds of rumbling voices and metal. A few minutes later, the orange glow of the campfires cuts through the trees. My chest hurts, and for a moment, I consider turning around. Running again.
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