The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One)

by Rob Blackwell

  Kael started forward, but Soren stopped him.

  “If he dies, I don’t exist,” Kael said.

  “He won’t die,” Soren said. “Go! Get everyone out of here before this whole place goes up in flames. Can you find your way to Route 5?”

  “I know this place like the back of my hand,” Kael said.

  “Eventually, the police are going to show up,” Soren said. “Don’t be here when they do.”

  Kael nodded.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll get Edolphus.”

  “You’ll never make it alone,” Kael said. “There’s a wall of fire between you and Coakley.”

  Soren smiled at him, holding up his burnt arm.

  “Fortunately, fire is the one thing that doesn’t scare me.”

  Kael nodded.

  “Good luck,” the Indian said.

  “Just get them home safe,” Soren replied.

  He turned to Sara and pointed to Owen.

  “His father is named Wallace Leggett,” Soren said. “He lives in Arlington, right near you. Please see that he gets home.”

  She nodded at him, her expression unreadable. Soren didn’t want to think about what it meant. Instead, he turned toward the field and rushed back into the fray.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Soren passed through the smoke and flames, unsullied by their touch.

  He ran toward Father Coakley, who now had his back toward him. The preacher was holding his son closely, a knife to his throat, and talking in his ear. The two were watching as acolytes battled gaunts.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Soren saw a gaunt leap from a tree onto an advancing acolyte. The creature tore the man’s head off, only to be gutted a few minutes later by a nearby congregant. The robes of the acolytes on the field no longer appeared white. Instead, they were stained red with blood.

  Soren almost made it to Father Coakley before two nearby acolytes shouted and began heading in his direction. The first one swung his knife at Soren, who ducked and delivered an uppercut that sent his assailant flying backward. The second appeared momentarily flummoxed, and Soren realized he recognized him. It was Evan, the kid who had started this whole mess. In that moment Soren felt an unlikely kinship toward him. They had both had affairs and managed to set off a chain of events that got their friends killed.

  “You don’t have to do this, Evan,” Soren said. “I know what it’s like to feel the weight of the past on you. It wasn’t your fault that your friends died. You’re not an irredeemable sinner. You don’t have to hide here from the world.”

  Soren recognized the irony of his own words. He understood that was what he had done. He’d pushed Sara and everyone else away and hidden in his small corner of the world. He’d thought it was about revenge, finding the creature that had murdered his friends. But most of it was about guilt. He’d let it consume him, stopping him from living any kind of normal life. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. If he survived this—and that was still a large question—he would find a way to reclaim his destiny.

  He thought his words had reached Evan, who stopped and stared back at him.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Evan said.

  “I know,” Soren said. “Believe me, I know. But you need to let me through. I have one more person to save.”

  Evan glanced over at Coakley, and when he turned back to Soren, his expression had changed. Instead of wide-eyed and confused as it had been before, it was now determined.

  “No,” Evan said. “This is the only way to purge my sin.”

  He came forward before Soren could respond, waving his knife. Soren dodged the blow and backhanded Evan, smashing him to the ground. He felt bad about it, but Evan had made his choice. Unfortunately for him, it was the wrong one.

  The fight drew the attention of Coakley, who turned with Edolphus still in his grip.

  “If you could see yourself now, Beast,” Coakley said. “You are against a backdrop of living fire. A fitting end, as you have created hell on earth.”

  The flames were raging out of control. They’d spread to all the nearby trees and were rapidly jumping from one to the next. Soren hoped Kael, Sara, and the others would get far away before the fire caught up to them.

  He held up his hand so Coakley could look at the jewel. It was still pulsing with a strange light.

  “Let Edolphus go, and you get this back,” Soren said.

  Edolphus looked away, but Coakley stared at the gem in wonder. Still, he wrenched his eyes free of it to glare at Soren.

  “What possible good would it do me now?” he asked. “You have brought my people here to die.”

  The three of them were a small island in a sea of battles. All around them acolytes and gaunts were fighting with each other. Both sides of the conflict seemed unaware of the threat of the fire. As Soren watched, he saw it consume an acolyte and gaunt wrestling on the ground.

  “You could take your son home and live out a normal life,” Soren said.

  But of course he knew that was impossible. Coakley had left that chance behind long ago. And by the expression on Coakley’s face, the idea was no longer appealing.

  “I wanted him to see the death and destruction he has wrought,” Coakley said. “But he has witnessed enough. Now he must be sacrificed.”

  “No!” Soren shouted.

  Edolphus couldn’t die; he knew that. And yet, as Coakley moved to drag the knife across his son’s throat, it seemed that was going to happen anyway.

  But just behind him, Soren heard a gunshot ring out. Coakley abruptly dropped the knife to the ground and staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock. Blood bloomed from his chest right above his heart. Edolphus turned and rushed forward, catching his father before he could fall.

  “My son,” Coakley managed, and the expression in his eyes changed. For just a second the demented and angry look faded. “I am so sorry.”

  The light in his eyes died out before Edolphus could respond. Slowly, Edolphus lowered his father to the bare earth.

  Soren turned to thank the man he knew must be responsible: Samuel Mitchell. He was apparently the only one on the field with an actual gun. When he looked at the Civil War veteran, he saw Samuel finish reloading the gun. The soldier tore off a paper cartridge with his teeth and poured the contents into the rifle before ramming them down with a rod attached to the gun. As Soren watched, Samuel pulled something out of a pouch hung on his belt and placed it onto the hammer of the gun. Soren was impressed with the speed at which the soldier reloaded the weapon and started to say so, but Samuel aimed the gun squarely at him. He wanted to ask why but suddenly realized he already knew.

  “Give me the jewel,” Samuel said. “It’s mine. I deserve it.”

  “Samuel, you don’t know what you’re asking,” Soren said. “When you look inside it—”

  “It’s the only way home,” Samuel said. “Besides that, it’s worth a lot of money—more than I’ve seen in my lifetime. I’m going to sell it and live like a prince.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Soren said.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, you don’t have any choice,” Samuel said.

  Soren opened his mouth to dispute him, but Edolphus cut him off.

  “Let him have it,” he said.

  Soren shook his head.

  “He’ll disappear back into Darisam, then return home,” Soren said. “You’ll be stranded here. Worse, God knows what he’ll do with the gem.”

  “Let him have it, Soren.”

  Edolphus spoke with such confidence that Soren did as he was told. He flipped the gem toward the Confederate, who dropped his gun and grabbed the jewel in excitement. Soren could have rushed him and tried to take it back, but he didn’t bother. He had a bad feeling he didn’t need to.

  Samuel held up the jewel and stared at it in awe. Green light reflected off his face, but the color rapidly changed to dark red. Samuel’s expression grew concerned and then terrified. He started shaking, and
Soren watched as a stream of blood emerged from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

  It took only seconds for Samuel Mitchell to collapse to the ground, still gazing at the gem. As Soren walked toward Samuel, his body started to deteriorate in front of his eyes. Soren saw his flesh rot, his hair grow long, and finally his bones turn to dust. Only then did a skeletal Samuel release the jewel. By the time it hit the ground, the only trace of Samuel Mitchell were the clothes on his body. They were picked up by the wind and tossed backward into the raging inferno around them.

  “Good God,” Soren said.

  He turned to Edolphus.

  “How did you know?”

  “I understand the gem,” Edolphus said. “To survive it, you have to believe you are acting unselfishly. It’s why you succeeded. You were able to hang on to something.”

  “Sara,” he said. “I had to save her.”

  Edolphus nodded.

  “But how did your father survive?”

  “He probably started out thinking he was acting for the best in the beginning, likely finding a way to repent for his mistakes,” Edolphus said. “But over time the gem corrupted him, as power always does.”

  Soren picked up the jewel from the ground. Looking at it, he felt nothing. He certainly had no desire to use its power again. He was about to hand it to Edolphus when movement caught his eye.

  He turned away from the flames, which still spread throughout the woods.

  Looking across the field, he saw the last acolyte fall as a gaunt pounced on him and tore into his chest. Coakley’s final follower was also his most recent. Evan was dead. Soren felt a pang of regret. He wished he’d been able to save him, too.

  Beyond him, Soren saw gaunts still loping around, some shying away from the fire, while others appeared to be searching for more victims. Their numbers were greatly reduced, and Soren couldn’t help but smile. The fire was large enough that it would burn most of Reapoke Forest, including the warehouse where the creatures had been created.

  Still, he was alarmed to see a familiar figure emerge from the nearby woods. He walked with determination, flanked by at least a dozen gaunts.

  Randolph Chastain approached them before Soren could move.

  “I thought you were dead,” Soren said.

  Chastain looked from Soren to Edolphus and smiled.

  “I could say the same to you,” Chastain replied. “Last I saw, my young partner set you on fire. Hell of a thing to survive, don’t you think?”

  “Darisam is an amazing place,” Soren replied.

  Chastain laughed out loud.

  “Is that your theory?” he asked. “It beats the truth, I suppose.”

  Soren narrowed his eyes.

  “Darisam—nice name, by the way—isn’t the reason you’re alive, Soren,” Chastain said. “You must know that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soren said.

  Chastain sighed deeply.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll make this simple: give me the jewel and you get to live.”

  Soren looked down at the gem he held in his hands.

  “What will you do with it?” Soren asked.

  “I think you know,” Chastain replied. “And it’s none of your concern. You don’t really have a choice, you understand. If I give the word, my friends will tear you and Edolphus apart.”

  “Where are you planning to attack?” Soren asked. “DC? New York?”

  Chastain rolled his eyes.

  “As if I were a common terrorist,” he said. “A place called Loudoun Hollow, if you must know, but I don’t expect you to have heard of it. I have far more pressing concerns than you. But you have done me more damage than I expected. It will take us months to rebuild our army, if not longer. The trick with the journal was particularly impressive.”

  “Liked that, did you?” Soren asked.

  Chastain turned to Edolphus and gave him a small bow.

  “We expected deception from Soren, but not from you,” he said. “Perhaps you were not the simpering fool we took you for. You faked the final journal entry.”

  “He actually hasn’t written it yet,” Soren said. “You put us in a box. You knew what we were going to do before we did—but only because he told you. The solution was so simple I almost missed it. When he gets home, he’ll finish the journal. He’ll describe how he freed Alice and fled into the forest to look for the Charred Man. That part will be true. But for the finale, he’ll add a fake entry. It won’t say anything about showing up here with Coakley’s acolytes. It will also make sure you know the Charred Man has the jewel. You live by the pen, you die by the pen, Chastain.”

  Chastain sneered back at him.

  “Well, huzzah for you,” he said. “But your victory won’t last long. You’ve set us back, but I will still get what I came for. Give me the jewel—now.”

  Soren hesitated, intending to throw it to Edolphus. But if the preacher’s son missed, the gaunts would be on him in seconds. Chastain didn’t wait another moment.

  “Kill them both,” he said in a clipped tone.

  Several gaunts leapt into the air. Soren did two tasks at the same time. In one smooth motion he tossed the jewel toward Edolphus. He also used himself as a shield, throwing his body between the monsters and Edolphus.

  Edolphus caught the gem in midair, even as the gaunts pounced upon Soren.

  “Go!” Soren yelled.

  Edolphus didn’t wait to hear more but started running. He was headed straight toward the fire, but that didn’t matter.

  As he reached the flames, he turned to look back. He raised a hand to wave in Soren’s direction and then brought the jewel to his face. The light from the gem washed over him, and he stood there, transfixed. Edolphus was facing his test, but after a moment it was clear he passed. He disappeared. One minute he was there and then he was gone.

  The gaunts fell on Soren, tearing into him. The pain was excruciating, but he responded with a strength he previously hadn’t known he possessed. He threw the creatures off him as he jumped back on his feet.

  Soren heard Chastain cry out in frustration.

  The gaunts began attacking him, but Soren found he was almost happy to engage them. He’d done everything he set out to do. Sara was safe, and the gem was beyond the Association’s reach. Edolphus would return to Darisam and then go back to Virginia in his own time. Once back in 1813, he’d agreed to put the jewel in a lead box and dump it at sea, where no one would ever find it again. Then Edolphus would live out the rest of his natural life, hopefully a happy one.

  That Soren might die was inconsequential. There were worse fates than this.

  A gaunt came close and hissed at Soren. He calmly reached over and snapped the thing’s neck. He took his knife and stabbed another in the throat before smashing a third’s face in with a blow so hard he shattered part of its skull.

  Soren was starting to actually enjoy himself when Chastain spoke.

  “Enough!” he said, and the gaunts immediately responded.

  They broke off their attack and fell in behind Chastain. Soren grinned at him, looking down at his skin. There was fire and smoke all around them, but he felt better than he had in a long time. He no longer looked like a burnt husk—he seemed almost human.

  “Come on, that was just getting to be fun,” he said.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you, Falk,” Chastain said, saying the last word like a curse word.

  Soren’s smile faded as he remembered the name from when he was inside the jewel.

  “What did you call me?”

  Chastain was simmering with rage.

  “I called you by your name,” he said. “The great Falk, a legend among his kind. And yet you don’t even remember who you are.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Chastain laughed bitterly.

  “How long can you live in denial?” he asked. “Anyone else would have seen it by now. Do you really think the gem healed your wounds? Do you think
it can?”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “We hired Meredith to lead you here,” Chastain continued. “Didn’t you ever wonder why we would go to such trouble? Why did it have to be you?”

  “I just—”

  “If it’s just a matter of committing a sin, we could have drawn anyone here,” Chastain continued. “We led Evan here for that precise purpose: so he would get things started—and give us a case for you to be hired for. We knew it was you because Edolphus told us it would be. He didn’t use your name; he just called you the Charred Man. We had to figure it out from the other clues he left. For starters, we needed someone who could survive being lit on fire. There weren’t many candidates.”

  Soren wanted him to stop talking.

  “It all comes down to the lake house,” Chastain said. “What happened there, Soren?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “You told Meredith a pretender killed your friends,” Chastain said. “That’s why you’ve hunted pretenders ever since. That’s why you’re obsessed with them.”

  Soren wanted to run but felt strangely rooted to the spot.

  “Only one part of that story was right,” he said. “A pretender did kill your friends. And fortunately for you, I know where to find him.”

  Chastain reached in his pocket and then flipped something through the air at Soren, who caught it in his left hand. He looked down to see it was a mirror.

  “I’ve been saving that for you,” Chastain said. “Take a good look into it. Because you’re seeing the pretender right now.”

  Soren stared at him in horror.

  “No,” he said, but his voice was weak. “No, that’s not right.”

  “Think about it,” Chastain said. “You know what happens to pretenders, don’t you? You even told Meredith. ‘The pretender stays too long in an identity and starts to be confused about who and what it is.’ It’s why you don’t remember everything. Those holes in your memory? That’s not because of some accident. The transference process is imperfect—you only retained so many of Soren’s actual memories.”

  “No,” Soren said, but his voice was barely a whisper.

  “It’s why the fire didn’t kill you,” Chastain said. “Destroying a pretender is very hard. You of all people should know that. Fire won’t do it. I know my gaunt scratched you in your apartment, because Meredith told us. But when she looked at you, they were just light wounds. That would have killed a human being. And now look at you. Suddenly so strong you can fight twelve gaunts at once. Because you’re not a man, Soren. You’re a monster.”