The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

Shay struck another flame but it died out in a flash. Quinn let out a moan, fear choking him. I let the temperature in me rise, a flame barely sticking to my skin. It sputtered there, dull, Quinn quaking as the flame flickered in and out. He crawled onto his hands and knees and then I lost him.

  There was another flash of darkness, another brief second of light. Quinn was standing, trembling.

  “Qui—?”

  “Roman…something’s happening.” Shay turned, trying to lead the small flame in the palm of her hand before it went out.

  “This place,” I said. “It’s not natural. It’s…”

  “A nightmare.” Quinn’s voice cut from somewhere above our heads. “My nightmare. My worst…”

  Shay lifted her hand, the light carving the faintest shadow, but it was still too dark to see. A deep scraping sound erupted. Something slinking closer. Shay and I were shoulder-to-shoulder; then back-to-back. The flame sputtered out again.

  “They’re coming,” Quinn said, his voice to my left now.

  “Who’s coming?” I said.

  He whimpered, the sound so wounded I thought they’d already found him.

  “Quinn, just follow my voice,” Shay said. “Come take my hand and everything will be okay. Please.”

  My hand burned, so weak I could barely see a few inches in front of my face. The scraping sound swirled around us, growing louder. It climbed straight up and raced back down, invisible and pressing us in.

  I tried to imagine being Quinn’s age again, my Spiderman night-light casting a red glow under the bed, my fingers gripping the wooden frame as I eased down to take a peek. Being in this darkness would have been any kid’s worst nightmare. But not because they couldn’t see. No one was afraid of the darkness itself. They were afraid of what was in it.

  “Quinn!” The light patter of running water struck the ground, breaking my voice.

  But it didn’t smell like rain. It smelled like sulfur, stone, dirt. It smelled like blood.

  Shay thrust her hand in the air, one of her gadgets gripped in her fist. Light poked holes in the darkness, shards so bright I could barely make out anything else. Shay trembled and I followed her eyes. Up. Quinn was stitched to the blackness, hanging over us. A drop of his blood landed against my cheek and then the light was snatched up too.

  My feet left the ground, my hands grasping for Shay in the dark.

  “Roman? Don’t let go!”

  I kicked, the darkness hard and rough. It pressed down on me and I struck back, falling next to Shay’s feet. She was writhing too, screaming.

  “Shay!” I crawled forward, her arms slick with blood.

  I covered her with my body, something swooping down and slicing me across the back. My jaw clenched, Shay still smashing the device against her palm and trying to light up the space. It flashed on, then off, then on again, pulsating until I was dizzy.

  I spotted Quinn, stumbling and silent as the darkness descended again. It screamed like an injured animal, drops of blood raining down on us. I could only blink, desperate not to feel it sinking into my skin, stuck under my fingernails. I gagged, trying not to smell it, trying not to wonder where it had come from.

  Quinn grazed me in the dark and I yanked him down, Shay and I a barricade between him and his worst fears. He shivered, bleeding, but I couldn’t find the wounds, my touch igniting winces that signaled the pain was more than skin deep.

  Because it was all in his head.

  “Quinn, listen to me.” I stilled, calm. “Quinn, this is all in your head. You have to realize that, okay? You have to stop it.”

  “You can stop it,” Shay said.

  “It’s not real.” I gripped Quinn’s shoulders. “It’s not real. Say it.”

  He shook, a cry coming out instead.

  “Quinn. Quinn.” I lowered my voice, trying to soften it. “It’s not real. Say it with me. It’s not…”

  “…Real. It’s…”

  Something struck me, raking the pain down my spine. I gritted my teeth, tried not to scream.

  “Come on, Quinn.” Shay reached for him too. “Breathe.”

  “It’s not real,” I said, panting. “You know it’s not.”

  Quinn stopped shaking. “It’s not…”

  Another swipe, this one weaker. Shay glowed, the light dim but holding.

  I looked into Quinn’s eyes. “It’s not real.”

  His gaze strayed, darkness trying to lure him back.

  “Quinn,” I pleaded.

  He closed his eyes “It’s not real.” He squeezed them shut until I thought he’d burst. “It’s not real.” Tears forced their way through. “It’s not real.” Shay’s light spread, crawling over soil and leaves and tree roots. “It’s not real.” Gold scaled the trunks of the trees, canopy full of birds and stars. “It’s not real.”

  “Quinn…” I let go of him. “Open your eyes.”

  Domingo was waiting for us at the train station when we arrived, his presence staving off the people panicked and waiting in line. He’d come up from Spain to meet us. I wanted to ask what he’d found, if Stassi’s body was still alive, if it was safe. Andre’s quick glance told me not to utter a word, Shay’s hand on Domingo’s arm confirming the worst.

  They held onto each other the entire journey north, Domingo falling asleep against the window while Shay fell asleep against his shoulder. I wondered if they were dreaming the same dreams, but when they tossed and turned, sometimes breaking into a sweat, I realized that it wasn’t a dream they were sharing but a nightmare.

  I was afraid too. That we wouldn’t get the Dreamers home safe. That Anso or Sebastían would show up proving that we hadn’t rescued them from anything. That we’d find Bryn dead. That we wouldn’t find her at all. That when she’d left me alone she really had meant goodbye. Forever. I tried to shake off the thought, more afraid of what would happen if I let those fears get too big. The world didn’t need my nightmares too.

  But, God, did I want to see her.

  I stared out the window at the approaching tunnel, trees and signs passing in flashes until everything was a streak of grey. I let myself get lost in it, the blur as scrambled as the thoughts racing through my head. I focused on the blankness, eyes lazy and burning, and then my heart stopped at a punch of green. I scrubbed out my eyes, the train slowing to a stop.

  Bryn stood near the exit, finding me the instant we stopped. Her shoulders dropped as if she’d been holding her breath, and then, with only an ounce of anger in her eyes, she unhinged the most desperate smile.

  43

  Bryn

  Each wince was almost invisible, Roman’s pain hidden in the slight stiffness of every step. His eyes revealed the worst of it, whatever injuries he’d suffered without me not as painful as how much he’d suffered without me. I’d tried to save him from a pain even more permanent but nothing was more painful than those ten feet separating us.

  Train as a backdrop behind Roman and the other Rogues, I thought back to the day Dani had been attacked by the shadow. She’d been hurt, worse than any of us could have imagined at that point, and I was helping her back to the tram. Roman had followed, fighting with himself about whether to stay or go, the Rogues not just promising him answers but a way to be good again. That’s all it had ever been about.

  I’d been angry with him for leaving and as he approached me now I knew he was probably angry with me for the same thing. When all either of us had ever wanted was to do the right thing; to be a hero not just so we could save the world but so we could save each other.

  Barely a finger’s length away he didn’t reach for me. He waited for me to speak and I waited too, filtering out everything angry and sad and nonsensical. I wanted to yell at him for putting himself in danger. I wanted to grab him in handfuls and make sure he was real. I wanted to cry and beg him to forgive me.

  For leaving. For killing. For almost destroying us both.

  I settled on those two words: “I’m sorry.”

  Roman wrapped me up and I could feel h
is hurt—the waiting, the worry, the longing—everything I’d put him through. He squeezed me tight and for the first time in months I was weightless.

  But then I started thinking about Monica and Haji and Katri—every Dreamer I’d rescued alone. I remembered the filth I’d found them in, the fear in their eyes. The memories exploded one after the other. I lost my breath, heart racing and shoulders heaving as I tried to find it again.

  “Bryn…” Roman gripped me. “It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”

  And then I let myself collapse. I held onto Roman, sensing the wounds beneath his clothes, absorbing the pain until the memories faded to black. Until I felt something else.

  A spark.

  It was so small. The slight shock from Roman’s skin raced like a serum through my veins before settling warm in my chest. It throbbed there, waking parts of me that were supposed to be dead. Maybe I wasn’t. Not yet.

  “I missed you,” Roman said, raw and almost playful, his voice a weak attempt at distracting me. It almost worked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, pleading. “I’m so sorry.”

  I stared at Roman, wishing that his eyes were some kind of portal to the divine. As if absolution from him might absolve me of everything.

  “I know,” he said.

  I let out a breath, still afraid. “I thought…I was protecting you.”

  “From what?”

  Me.

  I couldn’t say it. I tried to look away but he wouldn’t let me. I didn’t want to keep lying to him but I didn’t want him to be afraid too. The least threatening truth I could think of was, “Fate.”

  He smiled. “Why have you always been so afraid of that?”

  I was quiet, trying to reconcile fate with something not worth fearing. I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t stop fearing something I couldn’t control.

  "I'm glad we're fated, Bryn.” Roman cupped my face in his hands. They smelled like smoke. “I'm glad that I'm not the only force in the universe trying to keep us together. Because you are the most catastrophically courageous person I have ever met and I need all the help I can get.” He smiled and so did I. “Whatever strings come attached to that, I’ll take them."

  A low rumble erupted and I faced the tracks. The train was still stalled, nothing moving in either direction.

  “Bryn…” Roman’s voice was clipped, his hands suddenly sweating.

  I looked around, every person in the train station looking back. The spark I’d felt as Roman held me had bloomed into a wild sunset; both of us blazed pink, the halo around us pulsing in and out. I inhaled and the light vanished but it was too late.

  Dozens of familiar red lights bobbed up and down within the crowd—Roman and I side by side just like the spliced image of us that had been making the media rounds. But not everyone was watching from a safe distance. People clustered, moving closer. A man spat in disgust, a few more grinding their fists into their palms. I couldn’t tell if they were drunk or just delusional. But one thing was for certain—they were very very angry.

  I looked closer—at the layers of clothes they were buried under, the bags at their feet, the misty look in their eyes leftover from those painstaking moments when they’d had to choose what to take with them and what to leave behind. For those whose cheeks were still tear-stained, noses still red, nothing but rags shielding them from the cold, I knew they’d had to leave everything. And from the way each pair of eyes arrowed in on us, I knew they believed that we were to blame.

  They charged in patches, some hesitant. But either they were too enraged to stop or maybe they just had nothing to lose. The Dreamer with electric blue hair cracked a strand of light like a whip, the current snaking out and snapping at the first row of knees. I recognized her immediately, the hue framing her face as vibrant as the electricity that ran beneath her skin. I remembered how she’d spun a web around Anso’s guards and I watched as she twisted her hands, ready to hurl one at anyone who came too close.

  The older Dreamer the Rogues had rescued was pressed to Shay’s back, the small boy hanging onto Andre’s leg. The lights in the station flickered and so did the Dreamer next to Shay, his body shivering to static. He looked like he was made of sand, a puff of dust drifting in the air as he vanished. Shay spun, thrusting out a glowing hand to ward off the horde as she examined the footprints he’d left behind.

  The crowd shifted, an invisible seam splitting them in two. I heard the slight scratch of sand and narrowed my gaze, particles swooping like birds of prey. People ducked and covered their faces; sand slicing across their skin. A few men broke through, dust reaching out like a hand and circling their throats, yanking them back. It fell down in a rush, grey tufts bounding across the floor like rabbits as people pressed to the station walls.

  There was a loud electric pop and the lights cut off.

  “Kascidee?” Roman whispered.

  By the way she panted, uneasy in the dark, I could tell she hadn’t done it. The Rogues backed into a circle, Kascidee, the boy, and I tucked safely inside. Sand pooled between us, the other Dreamer manifesting, just as breathless. Roman lit up, the flames jumping to Andre, then Shay, then Domingo.

  The men who’d led the charge scrambled back, faces painted with sweat from the heat. Beneath the Rogues’ glow I could see women holding up crucifixes and clutching prayer beads, everyone bracing themselves for a fight. People shoved each other toward the train, panicked about being too near the walls. Trapped like prey…

  “Listen,” Shay said.

  I honed in on the sound. Whistling. At first it mimicked a song, maybe even a lullaby. But then the wind picked up, the feigned melody replaced by white noise.

  “The shad—”

  Roman couldn’t even get the word out before they dove straight for us, frozen arrows disintegrating against the Rogues’ flames. But as I stared past their falling ashes, assault much too frenzied, I realized that they weren’t here for me. Or at least…not just me.

  People slumped to their knees, backs arched as the shadows slithered inside. They writhed like parasites, hosts coughing up blood as the shadows stretched out their skin. People fell in rows, shadows slipping in and out, and that’s when I realized that they weren’t trying to possess them. They were trying to kill them. To gut them and leave behind nothing but their shells.

  The melody came again, only this time the humming was trapped between my ears. The notes pinged back and forth, loud and sharp and making me dizzy. I could feel it lulling me one sense at a time, the sound hypnotic and sad. The voice reached inside me, letting out a sigh that was distinctly human.

  I searched for Sebastían, sensing him everywhere. The dread was singed with a flash of relief. He isn’t dead. But Sebastían’s survival only meant that mine and every other Dreamer’s was still in jeopardy.

  When I found him in the corner of the train station, the Rogue’s flames ricocheting off the shadows and casting him in a scarlet net, the metal disk was already spinning in the air, drudged up from the soil inside Yolotli’s cage.

  I cut the room in half, thrusting everyone left or right of the blast. I slammed into concrete, ears ringing as I searched the ashes for the others. Each Dreamer was shielded, bruised but not badly hurt. Shay yanked a piece of shrapnel from her left arm, howling as Andre ripped one from above her right knee. There were barbs stuck to him too and I ran both hands over Roman’s skin, searching for wounds.

  “I’m fine.” He coughed, lip bloody.

  A shadow dove straight for me, burning my arm with snow. I aimed Roman’s hand like a cannon, flames striking them down as I searched the air for another loose landmine.

  I froze at the sharp popping of a machine gun. The crowd quieted as metal police badges flickered in the dark. The men in uniform shone their flashlights on every face, long beams making people cower. I locked in on Andre and the others before squeezing Roman’s hand—a signal that I was about to run straight for them. The policemen descended the stairs into the station. Roman squeezed back, hea
rt racing.

  The policemen held up their guns, aiming them into the crowd, and then all I saw were sparks. The sound was so loud that it disappeared altogether and all I could hear was the beat of my own heart. The sharp breeze of bullets zipped past my skin and I summoned Devyn’s armor. Roman winced and groaned, the sound lost in all the screaming as a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Andre jostled, knocked back one limb at a time as bullets carved into his skin.

  My thoughts reached for the train, my mind a magnet strong enough to shift the earth. The tracks rattled, metal hinges between each car grinding and ready to leap off the ground. I heaved it up, lifting a single car, and then I hurled it in the direction of the policemen.

  My gaze slithered through the crowd until they were all knotted together and then I pushed them out of the way, train barely missing a few who were too busy fighting what they couldn’t see.

  I spotted Shay between the cars. We were separated now, Rogues and the Dreamers on one side, Roman, me, and the frantic crowd on the other.

  “Get them out of here,” I yelled to Andre.

  Shay cast me a worried glance, the only way out through the tunnel. The older Dreamer Roman had rescued reached out his hands.

  “What’s he doing?” I breathed.

  Gunshots sparked on the other side of the toppled train, shadows heaving against the metal as they tried to make a way through.

  “I can move them,” the Dreamer called back.

  “Collin are you—?” Roman ducked as more bullets sliced overhead, a mangled policemen hanging onto the train car and trying to aim his gun.

  The girl with blue hair latched onto Collin, Shay and the young boy doing the same. Domingo and Andre locked hands and then Collin closed his eyes.

  There was another torrent of bullets and Roman fell on top of me. I strained to watch as our friends turned to dust, a gust of wind casting them somewhere far, somewhere safe.

  I rolled, Roman and I face to face.

  “We could follow them,” Roman breathed, searching my eyes.

  If he was looking close enough all he would find is regret. I didn’t want to leave behind more bodies. I wouldn’t.