The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  “Why?” Sebastían gasped. He looked just as combustible as Bryn. “Why…? Look at what you’ve made.”

  The shadows shed their ashen glow over every monster, the beasts panting and mesmerized. They were horrible.

  “Don’t listen to him.” I needed Bryn to hear my voice, to hear me begging and to listen. Sebastían had plucked the fear straight from her heart, giving it shape and sound. Showing her a version of the truth that would only send her over the edge. She wanted to believe that she was the cause of all of this. That she was evil. I couldn’t let her get what she wanted. I couldn’t let her believe that her death would save anyone from anything. “Bryn, don’t listen.”

  “And me,” Sebastían went on. “Look at what you’ve done to me.” He shook, whatever trauma he blamed on Bryn simmering just beneath his skin. In the glow of my light he was black, veins filled with cement, his blood dark and pressed to the surface like rotted tree roots. “You killed her.” He swayed, looked down. “She’s dead because of you.”

  “Who? Sebastían…I haven’t—”

  “Stop it!” His shoulders heaved. “You poisoned her. You filled her with darkness until there was nothing left. Nothing.”

  I remembered watching Sebastían on the news when I was at the police station. I’d been confined to the waiting room while my dad tried to buy me some more time with Detective Hall. Sebastían was one of the first Dreamers who’d woken up in the real world and his family had given a press conference outside the hospital to share the good news. But there had been someone else behind the podium, Sebastían’s face pinned to her shirt, tears like flecks of gold against her cheek.

  I glanced at Bryn, my voice low. “His girlfriend.”

  “My soul mate,” Sebastían corrected. He glared at me. “You knew. You helped.”

  “He’s twisted your memories,” Bryn said. “Anso is lying to you.”

  “She was possessed,” I added, “by the shadows under Anso’s control. Not Bryn.”

  “You mean she was cursed.” Sebastían scoffed, almost smiling. “Has she explained to you yet how it works? Bryn dies, you die. Which means that, technically, you’re both ghosts.”

  “It doesn’t work like that anymore,” I said, thinking of Lathan and all of the other Rogues who’d been separated from their Dreamers by death. It was the reason none of their previous suicide attempts had worked. Anso or some other dark force was keeping the Dreamers and the Rogues apart on purpose, making us immortal in order to elicit as much suffering as possible.

  “Not anymore?” Sebastían asked. “Or not yet?”

  Moans mixed with the breaking of branches, every beast on high alert as Emir was dragged out of the forest. One of Sebastían’s shadow hounds had him by the calf, blood dripping onto the leaves and leaving a trail that even had his tiger, Jasmina, salivating.

  “Do. Not. Touch. Him.” Bryn was a lit fuse again, predatory and losing patience. “Hate me. Confront me. But leave the other Dreamers out of this.”

  Sebastían was stoic. “I wish I could. But finding a dream powerful enough to destroy you is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Emir might be useless or he might be the one. I won’t know until…”

  Sebastían took one step toward Emir and Bryn fell, slamming her fists against the ground and sending a wide crack between his legs. Emir rolled, Jasmina on her hind legs as she dragged down the shadow. It disintegrated, abandoning Sebastían as he clutched at the soil and tried to stay upright.

  Bryn threw herself on top of Emir, fear flaming behind her eyes the moment their skin touched. One second was all it took for Bryn to absorb his essence and then he was perfectly still, his lips the only thing moving—a plea or a prayer or just a string of madness.

  I grabbed them both, catching the brunt of a rough landing. Sharp teeth snapped around my ankle and I rolled, swatting a flaming hand at another opened mouth. A pair of hooves came down, cutting the inside of my thigh. Bodies jostled, the animals crisscrossing as if they were still trapped in cages.

  Bryn sat back to back with me, Emir in her lap as we watched the beasts groan and scream, getting lost in the dark surrounding Celia’s property.

  I sucked in air. “You carried them with us?”

  A canine fixed with a large horn, blind and foaming at the mouth, charged for Bryn. She growled back, Emir’s memories equipping her with a language the beast understood. It ran in the opposite direction, biting at a large cat that was already wounded. They tussled, howls rising.

  Emir howled back, writhing as Bryn tried to pin his arms down. She had a long scrape near her elbow and I wondered if one of the animals had taken a swipe. But then Emir latched onto her again, drawing more blood.

  “We have to get him inside,” I said.

  Bryn froze, eyes trained on the darkness. A deep guttural sound made my stomach drop. I searched for bared teeth or a steaming snout, waiting for another one of Emir’s monsters to emerge. But as I searched the night, every deformed creature that hadn’t already disappeared into the trees was as still and silent as we were. Because the sound wasn’t just loud, it was moving.

  Bright eyes flashed in pairs like moons—hollow, yellow, and staring right at us. I carved out shoulders, haunches; long lapping tongues that glowed against grey teeth.

  I tensed, ready to jump to my feet. The wolf closest to us let out a snapping growl like the blast of a gun. It riled the others, their feet padding at the dirt, necks craning.

  I braced myself, lighting up the night until every big black body was in view. They circled us, taking turns edging forward.

  “When I say, you run to the house.” I barely raised my voice but it sent the wolves into a frenzy, howls rising up all around us.

  Emir cried out, still trapped in his own delusion, and the wolf closest to us snapped its jaws. Fangs snagged my pant leg and I kicked back, the wolf letting out a strangled wince. I held my hand out like a torch, the wolves sniffing at it, burning their insides. But it only made them angrier. I crawled in front of Bryn, another pair of jaws snapping around my leg. But the moment its skin touched mine, it reared back, burned and panting.

  A large she-wolf lunged for Bryn but she threw up a hand, casting it back. The wolf landed spine first and Bryn stared, both certain and confused, at the tips of her trembling fingers. The next wolf wasn’t far behind. Bryn narrowed her eyes and I heard the sound of its bones snapping as it fell onto its side.

  The wolves writhed, twitching like live bait. The one whose neck Bryn had snapped stretched its limbs, bones cracking and snapping into place as it climbed back onto all fours.

  My breath hitched. “They’re not dead.”

  Bryn rose, pulling Emir with her. “Because they’re not alive. They’re from Emir’s nightmares.”

  More eyes broke from the darkness where my light didn’t quite reach, more bared teeth, more howling that made me want to rip my ears clean off. I’d never heard a sound like that. So wild. So wretched. There was no way these things were living.

  More growls erupted, the wolves’ steaming breath inching closer. I doubled over, my hands on my ears as Bryn let out a scream that wasn’t her own. It was high and whistling and it made my teeth ache. The wolves cried out, whimpering as if the sound was clawing its way inside them. Their heads lolled and their feet dragged as they tried to break into a run.

  The sound swelled, reaching a pitch that I thought would make me explode. I scanned the darkness but the yard was suddenly empty. Bryn finally took a breath and the only sound was the rustling grass as the wolves retreated.

  I tensed, ready to race up the porch steps and crash through Celia’s front door. But Bryn was still and staring up.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Bryn pointed to the moon, cheeks wet. “It’s darker than it was before.” She shook her head. “How is that possible?”

  “You mean it didn’t work?” I asked.

  She couldn’t speak and I knew she was thinking of Felix. Testing the boundaries of time ha
dn’t just been about rescuing the Dreamers. If it had worked, it could have been a way of rescuing Felix too.

  “Maybe I’m not in control of everything.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I said.

  “Not with Anso watching my every move. Not with Sebastían after the Dreamers too.”

  I hesitated. “Did Anso leave you another message?”

  Bryn sighed, staring back up at the moon. “I’m not sure…”

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  She stared after the wolves, their bodies disappearing into the horizon one by one. “Wolves killed Emir’s father. While he watched.”

  I imagined Bryn trapped inside that memory, helpless the same way Emir had been. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

  “I felt Anso’s presence but not because he was trying to show me something. I think he was trying to…”

  “To what?”

  “To show me how the nightmares are waking up. How I’m waking them up.”

  Bryn was still trying to rationalize her part in all of this, to convince herself that she was evil. To convince me too. But she was wrong. Anso might have still been in hiding; he might have still been weak. But maybe he was done sending her cryptic messages about the future. Maybe he was ready to up the ante, which meant that maybe Sebastían wasn’t his only weapon.

  My stomach dropped. “The wolves in Emir’s memories weren’t a message, Bryn.” I looked right at her. “They were a trap.”

  Bryn looked up at the moon again, reading something in its face she hadn’t seen before. Emir caught sight of it too, one look stealing his breath. He clawed at the grass and I scooped him up, leading him and Bryn inside.

  After Celia ushered us across the threshold I waited for someone to say something about the time or about us sweat-drenched and panting. But as Vogle took Emir from my arms, I realized that he was the only thing moving.

  In the quiet after Emir was placed back inside his body, I finally registered the sound of the television. I heard my name. And then I heard Carlisle’s.

  Cole dropped the remote, Adham scrambling for it so he could change the channel. But it was too late. My face flashed on the news, the headline distilling what I’d done to a single tagline—MURDER. And worse, Bryn saw it too.

  She approached the television, snatching the remote before Adham could turn the screen black. Everyone cowered behind her, the headline’s reflection blurred in her eyes. The reporter’s voice grew louder and the sweat I’d been pouring turned cold. I felt sick. And I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t explain.

  When they played a clip of Carlisle’s body being dragged from the quarry Dani pushed her way in front of Bryn, shutting off the television. “That’s enough.”

  Bryn dropped the remote, the batteries clanking onto the hardwood. She stared, waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t.

  And neither could she.

  Bryn backpedaled, abandoning Emir, abandoning me and disappearing down the hall. She barricaded herself in the bathroom and I followed, falling against the door once I heard the click of the lock. I tried to speak, to say her name, to beg her to let me inside. But the air was so thin I could barely breathe, let alone form words. Please. Please.

  The quiet was so loud it turned to white noise. I watched the door seam, waiting for a flash of her shadow. The space felt hollow and I wondered if she’d disappeared again. If she’d left me there.

  My skin screamed red and I twisted the door handle until it snapped. When I threw the door open, Bryn was standing in front of the mirror. Her arms were covered in Emir’s scratches, blood dripping into the sink.

  “Let me.” It was all I could force out, the words barely audible.

  We stood in front of our reflections, me trying to examine Bryn’s cuts and her not letting me. My vision blurred, as black and blue as the wounds I’d been trying to hide from Bryn for months.

  “You lied,” she finally said. “To me.” She turned away, gripping the wall. Her breathing slowed and suddenly she said, “I love you.”

  I dissected every letter and every sound until her words were carved into sharp points and I was full of holes. The words pinned me there, so still as I tried to remember the last time she’d said them. I couldn’t remember, the weight of them so foreign I almost fell at her feet.

  She looked me in the eye, her own the clearest I’d ever seen them. “I loved you. All this time I couldn’t touch you, I couldn’t let you in because I didn’t want you to feel what I feel.”

  I felt what she felt. Every second of every day I felt the darkness that lived inside me, strangling each breath, dulling each beat of my heart. I felt my hands around Carlisle, tearing him apart. I felt the hate as ravenous as Emir’s beasts, rattling my body like a cage, trying to break loose.

  My throat was so dry as I forced out, “It was too late.”

  “What happened?” she said.

  I clenched my fists, already sweating.

  Say it. The truth.

  The mirror was eclipsed, my face slowly morphing into the shadow’s sick smile.

  “Roman?”

  My brow was sopping wet, eyes ringed dark.

  “Roman, are you okay?”

  She can see it. She can see you.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  The shadow coaxed me closer and I fought the urge to shatter the glass. Bryn laid a hand on me, and my doppelganger disintegrated in a gasp, ashes falling into the bottom of the sink.

  “Carlisle…” I stared down at her hands. “He’s dead.” My eyes travelled to her throat. “And I’m the one who killed him.”

  I told Bryn about the shadow wearing Carlisle’s flesh and about the fight at the quarry. How it all started and how it all ended with me waking up in another hospital bed, Carlisle’s blood on my hands.

  Bryn froze but the fear I expected never quite made it to her eyes. They narrowed, angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I—” I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at me.

  She charged me, our shoes touching. “You lied because you were afraid.”

  “Of course I was afraid,” I said. “I thought you’d hate me. You should. You should hate me as much as I hate myself.”

  Bryn wasn’t listening, the gears inside her tumbling so loud I thought she’d crack. “You lied to me. All this time. After everything I’ve done.” She shuddered. “What I did to them…”

  I pictured the corpses we’d left behind in that tent, trampled, dissolved to nothing but bones and bloodstains. I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t, the quiet leaving room for Bryn to relive every second.

  Her teeth chattered and I thought she was going to be sick. “I killed them. I…did that to them.”

  “You had to...” Part of me wasn’t sure that was the truth, but if that’s what it would take for Bryn to forget, to forgive herself, then I would make it true. I would believe it for both of us.

  “Not like that,” she said.

  This was the first time I’d seen Bryn look back, trapped in a painful pause and thinking about the choices she’d made. The way she folded into herself I could tell she knew that something was wrong. Inside her. I’d sensed it every time she touched me, every time she stared right through me. My doppelganger had sensed it too, watching her ravaged by a darkness that was all too familiar. Had the shadows gotten inside? Was it Anso tying her into knots? Or maybe his daughter?

  “Bryn—”

  “Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me everything’s alright. Don’t tell me I did what I had to do.”

  “But you did…”

  “You’re only saying that because you want to be the only monster.” She spun, turning her back to me.

  And I almost collapsed. Right there, I almost gave up. I wanted to.

  “Bryn, please.” I could sense her retreating, ready to disintegrate.

  “You want me to treat you like a monster?” Her voice dropped. “Fine. I’ll treat you lik
e a monster.”

  I reached for her, my embrace a faulty snare. She slipped from my grasp and then she vanished.

  My ghost fogged the mirror again, letting out a silent cackle. I didn’t think. I reared back before smashing my fist into the glass. The shock of the impact raced through my entire body, my hand coming back bloody. I stared at the scrapes and cuts, watching the blood pour through. It dripped into the sink, the mirror scattered and my reflection cracked. I waited for my doppelganger to appear again, for his face to be refracted in every shard of glass. But it was only me. Beneath the blood, beneath the brokenness, it was only me.

  25

  Mara

  My first memory is of my father slaughtering a lamb. It was a merciful killing. A wolf, rabid and separated from its pack, had attacked the lamb while we slept, leaving it a bloody mess for my father to find. The next morning it was still breathing, glass eyes still blinking; watching me as I watched my father cut its throat.

  There was so much blood—on my father’s shoes, on his clothes, on his hands. He buried the crimson lamb and then he scrubbed himself raw, skin dry and peeling as he tried to remove the stains. But even after he’d finished, even after he’d worked that afternoon in the rain, even after several days had passed and then a week, I could still see the stains. I never stopped seeing them.

  Now the stains are on me. My hands tremble and at first they’re all I see. Bright red. Dripping. I stare at them so long the blood begins to stiffen, fitting tight like a glove. I clench my fists, my skin speckled and my clothes drenched. It is a flood at my feet, filling the cracks between my toes.

  And I can’t keep my mother from drowning in it.

  I can’t stop the storm inside me.

  My sister’s lips sputter. She’s drowning too.

  So is my father, his head on my mother’s stomach.

  They twitch and moan and stare at me. All I can do is stare back. My mother chokes, whispers my name, and I know it’s the only breath she has left.

  Falling is the only way to reach her but gravity drags me somewhere else. I twist, trapped in sheets and hot air. I’m in my bed covered in sweat. I realize I’m awake and I’m relieved, taking long deep breaths until I’m not so dizzy.