The Seventh Hour

by Tracey Ward

  “Not what, Gray. Who.”

  I look away, running my hand over my mouth. “I can’t help it. I hate it, but I can’t help it.”

  “I know, you can’t control how you feel,” she agrees ardently. “Believe me, I get it. But every time the three of us are together it gets too weird. We’re not ourselves. I can’t act natural. It’s like we’re divided, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t want to be like this with you.”

  I reach for her, pulling her into a hug. She wraps her arms around me tightly.

  “I don’t either,” I say softly. “I wish we could go back to the way it was before.”

  “Hopefully we can.”

  “How?”

  “She’s only going to be here for the rest of the year. When she’s gone, we’ll see what happens.”

  I release her slowly, taking another step back. Forming a new gap between us. “Are you talking about Liv?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m talking about you and Easton.”

  Her shoulders slump. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “Gray, there’s nothing going on between me and Easton.”

  “And there’s nothing going on between me and Liv.”

  “Either you’re blind or you’re lying,” she snaps.

  “Weird, because I think you’re both.”

  She takes a deep breath before taking a step back. The gap between us is widening. “I think we should stop talking about this. This isn’t a good place to talk about it.”

  “You’re in love with my brother,” I tell her dispassionately. “What is there to talk about?”

  Karina shakes her head, darting around me. “Nothing. There’s nothing.”

  I go to grab her arm, to pull her back, but she dodges me easily. Not only is Karina smarter than me, she’s also faster.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  I scrub my hand over my face, wiping my expression clean before turning to face Liv and Easton. They’re back with bags of biscuits in their arms.

  “They finished eating,” I answer simply.

  “And they didn’t wait to say goodbye?” Easton asks.

  I shrug.

  “Okay, well, I was going to go back to the apartment to drop these off,” Liv says slowly, filling my silence. “Do you mind?”

  “No. Let’s go.”

  She turns to Easton, making a show of giving him her attention. “Have a good night, Easton.”

  “Thank you, Liv. You have a good night too.”

  “Thank you.”

  Easton looks at me sideways. “See? Manners. That’s what manners look like. Tell your friends.”

  “It’ll be the first thing I do when I see them,” I vow.

  “Good.” He comes around the table to take me in a half hug. “Goodnight, brother.”

  I squeeze him hard. “’Night, E.”

  “You guys take good care of each other.”

  Liv smiles at him. “Take it cheesy.”

  Easton bursts out laughing, hands on the table to support him.

  I scowl at him. “You’ve ruined her, do you see that?”

  “I do,” he gasps. “And it’s beautiful. Come here.”

  He pulls Liv into a warm hug.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he gushes.

  “Well, you’re a gouda teacher.”

  “Oh my God,” I grumble as Easton succumbs to another fit of laughter. I take Liv’s arm, pulling her away. “We gotta go.”

  Easton’s chuckles follow us out of the hall.

  “You’re smiling,” Liv accuses.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You think I’m funny.”

  “I think you’re weird.”

  “But a good weird, right?”

  I look down at her, at her laughing eyes and her glowing skin. I allow a small grin. “You’re an okay weird, I guess.”

  That one meager morsel of encouragement is all she needs. After that the entire walk home is cheese related.

  Swiss way do we go?

  We cheddar hurry!

  There’s mozzarella that came from.

  “That one’s a stretch,” I chuckle.

  “Yes, but it’s still good.”

  “None of them are good.”

  “That’s why they’re funny.”

  I jingle my keys in my hand, opening the dormitory door for her. “My dad used to tell jokes like that. That’s where Easton learned it.”

  “Did your dad know they weren’t funny?”

  The door bangs shut behind us, plunging us in the dimness Liv mistakes for darkness. I instinctively take her hand to lead her up the stairs.

  “Yeah. That’s why he told them. He always got a laugh out of Easton and my mom. I was too young to really get that the joke wasn’t the joke. That it was telling it even though it wasn’t funny that made it funny.”

  “My father’s never told a joke in his life. He’s probably never laughed at one either.”

  “He’s not a fun guy?”

  “He’s a driven guy. Not a fun one. I’m not good at the politics thing and that’s his entire world, so he’s never had a lot of use for me. Gav is his prize possession. He’s great with people. Great with the Council. He’s next in line for our father’s seat which is good because I don’t want it and my father doesn’t want me to have it.”

  I lick my lips nervously, worried about asking what I’m thinking. “But if Gav is gone, what happens then?”

  She pauses, digesting that thought. I’m sure she’s had it before. I’m sure she’s thought about all of this, but whether or not she wants to talk about it out loud is another story.

  “If he’s really gone,” she answers, her voice taking on that soft silver sound, “then I’m in real trouble when I go home. I’ll be the only family my father has. I’ll be the only heir to his seat. All of his attention and focus will be on me, on grooming me and molding my life. He’ll pick a husband for me. Tell me when to get married. When to have children. How to raise them.”

  “I thought who you married was something you chose. What about the writing? What about Fate finishing your sentence?”

  She opens the door at the top of the stairs, pouring light over both of us. Her eyes are glistening, wet and round.

  “My father is Fate,” she answers dully.

  At her door I ask if she wants to train. We already did this morning before work but she seems down, something I feel responsible for after bringing up her brother.

  She smiles thinly with a shake of her head. “No, thanks. I’m tired. I’m going to go to sleep.”

  “Me too.” I nudge her foot with mine. “Yell at each other at four-thirty?”

  Her smile takes on a little strength. “I can’t wait.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  There’s no accounting for what I do next. Maybe it’s because I saw Easton do it earlier. Maybe it’s because she’s down and I want to bring her back up. Maybe it’s just because I want to. I really don’t know.

  What I do know is that when I reach for her and she steps willingly into my arms, it feels good. It feels warm and right, like she fits. Like we both do. Her face against my chest, her thin arms around my waist, her hair soft and sweet smelling under my nose; everything is where it should be. It throws me for a loop, into a tailspin I can’t pull out of.

  I cough roughly, pulling away. I’m unable to meet her eyes. “Goodnight, Liv.”

  “Goodnight, Grayson.”

  Silver bells.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Liv

  I lay in bed for an hour trying to find sleep. It doesn’t come. All I can think about is Grayson. About that hug. About his laugh as we walked home. About his hand holding mine in the stairwell. I’m going all mushy over him, full girl with a crush and it’s the worst thing in the world.

  I can�
�t feel this way about him. There’s still something happening between him and Karina, and even if it’s the end of something it’s still something. It’s nothing I want to get in the middle of. I’m building castles in my mind that he can’t even see. He doesn’t feel the same way and this fantasy of mine, it’s just that. It’s a fantasy. I’ve romanticized things between us because he protected me when I was in danger, but I’m not anymore. I can handle Holster, Grayson trained me to protect myself, and the paint on my door was months ago. Even though we still don’t know who did it, it was an isolated incident.

  Best of all, I haven’t felt frantic in weeks. I don’t wake up in a cold sweat anymore. I still wake Grayson up at four in the morning, but it’s out of habit at this point. Habit and a little bit of cruel fun. But I don’t need it like I used to because I’m not afraid to be alone. That dark, desperate feeling I had on the boat, it’s a fading memory. A ghoul who’s losing shape, haunting me less and less every day.

  I’m not the same girl that I was. If I set foot on a Dasher now no one would recognize me. I barely recognize myself, and I like it. Every day I find out a little bit more about who I am. About what I like and don’t like, what I’m capable of, and I owe it all to Grayson for inspiring me. I’m changed, better for having known him, and now I know that I need to protect myself from him. From this mush that’s seeping in and clouding everything.

  The alarm system blazes to life, blaring into my room from the hall. I snap out of bed immediately. My shoes are already on my feet when I hear the pounding on the wall.

  “Liv! Wake up!” Grayson shouts.

  I kneel on my bed to bang back. “I’m up! I’m up! I’ll be in the hall!”

  First shift is exploding into action. Doors are banging open and shut, feet are pounding through apartments nearby. Everyone is scattering, struggling to get dressed in a hurry.

  I grab a sweater and my keys on the way to the door. Grayson is just coming out of his apartment as I step out to meet him. He’s lacing his belt through his pants, the shirt of his uniform hanging open over a black tank top.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. There’s been nothing over the radio yet. Only the alarms.”

  He cinches his belt before working the buttons on his shirt. He’s halfway done when his radio cracks to life.

  “All Forces to the doors! Repeat! All Forces to the doors!”

  “No,” he whispers, his hands frozen in place. His large, frightened eyes are locked on the floor as he listens.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t be them, don’t be them,” he whispers.

  “Don’t be who?”

  His radio sparks again. “Vishers! Vishers! Vishers!”

  Grayson curses, abandoning his buttons. Shouts erupt throughout the floor. Doors fly open as Forces members spill into the hall. They’re pulling on shirts, buttoning pants, stomping into boots. And all of them are sprinting for the stairwell.

  Grayson grabs my shoulders, leaning forward to look me straight in the eye. “This is bad, Liv. I can’t sit back on this one. I have to go.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “You can’t go with me. It’s too dangerous.”

  “What’s a visher?”

  He pales. “It’s an animal. Or it used to be. It’s something else now.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a monster.”

  I swallow roughly. “You can’t leave me.”

  “You’ll be alright.”

  He doesn’t sound convinced.

  “But you won’t. Fuller will flip if you leave me.”

  “I’d rather take heat from him than see you hurt.”

  I shrug off his hold. “But I’m a trained medic. You’ve run me through the full Forces training. I can help!”

  “Liv, this is no joke.”

  “No one is laughing.” I pull my hair off my shoulders, winding it into a bun at the base of my neck. “I won’t stay here locked in a room doing nothing. If I leave, you have to go with me, right?”

  His jaw clenches angrily. “Right.”

  I run. I head for the door at the end of the hall, running as fast as I can to chase down the first shift.

  “Liv!”

  I don’t listen. I don’t stop. I run as fast as I can, bursting through the door into the stairwell, straight into the swarm of first shift Forces heading down. I weave through the small crowd, dodging and darting, evading Grayson as he follows me. As he shouts my name.

  Once we’re on the street I can’t outrun him. I know it and he knows it. He catches up to me, falling in line next to me with his body bumping against mine, but he doesn’t try to stop me. He doesn’t say a word. He runs with me as I run with Forces, sprinting toward danger with my heart in my throat and a feeling like flying that’s so electric and alive I can hardly breathe.

  It’s colder by the doors. A lot colder. Even as I run and my heart rate spikes, I feel my body temperature dropping. My sweat is ice on my skin that sends goosebumps over my entire body.

  And then the banging starts. It sounds like the fist of God against the doors. They creak and groan in protest but it doesn’t stop. It’s relentless and deafening. Horrifying.

  And yet it’s not half as bad as the scraping.

  It’s knives gouging the thick metal doors. It sounds like explosions battering their strength. Dynamite and swords.

  I follow Forces into the tall chamber by the doors. It’s dim but I can see shadows. They’re swarming around a tall cabinet, the sound of metal scraping metal piercing the din of attack on the outside.

  Grayson grabs me roughly, pulling me to a table.

  “Put this on!”

  He shoves a jacket in my hands, one identical to Micah’s that still hangs in my closet. I shrug into it, barely zipping it up before he’s thrusting more material at me.

  “These gloves too! And this mask! It has goggles to protect your eyes!”

  “Am I going outside?!” I cry anxiously.

  He shakes his head, pulling on his own gloves. “No! But it’s about to get really cold in here! Your skin can’t take it for more than a few minutes! Your eyes either!”

  There’s a roar behind me, making me cower down. I bump into Grayson hard as heat sears the back of my neck. The exposed skin on my face. They’ve lit a towering bonfire opposite the doors. It snaps angrily, crackling as it reaches for the low ceiling.

  “Liv!”

  I turn to Grayson, my eyes wide and searching. After looking into the face of the fire everything seems darker. Grayson is nothing but an outline, unfamiliar and morphed by the hood of his coat over his head.

  “It’s not too late. You don’t have to do this.” he reminds me seriously, his voice dropping low.

  I take two shallow breaths, cold and sharp. “Yes, I do, Grayson. I go where you go.”

  “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  “Not tonight. Not anymore.”

  He reaches for the table to take hold of something small and black. He pushes it into my shaking hand. Or is it him that’s trembling? I can’t tell anymore.

  “Do you remember what I taught you about guns?!”

  “Yes!”

  “Good! You’re gonna need it!” He leans in close, his face inches from mine. His blue eyes glow red with the fire behind me. “Stay close to me. Don’t be brave. Don’t be stupid. If you get scared, leave. Run to the other side of the fire. Run to the dorms. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I whisper.

  He watches me for a second too long. His eyes search my face, his mouth opening like he has something to say, but the banging suddenly intensifies, startling us both.

  Grayson holsters his own gun before reaching for my mask. He helps me fit it over my face, making sure I’m completely covered. He puts on his own gear and motions for me to follow him.

  From what I can tell all of the Forces crew is here. They line up at the door at regular intervals, standing face to face w
ith the horrible sounds coming from outside. The noise echoes through the cave, puncturing my ears as my body freezes in the front and burns at the back. Firelight dances over the door. As I get closer I see rectangles in front of each man. They have locks on them, hinges like doors. They’re no bigger than a cookie sheet from the kitchens. Grayson lines me up with one next to him before taking his place in front of his own. I mimic his stance, my gloved hand on the latch. The door vibrates angrily under my palm.

  A whistle blows, sharp and shrill, and suddenly all of the men are opening their doors. I do the same, fumbling with it for a second before finally getting it open. Even through my coat I can feel the arctic chill of the wind that rushes in. It hits me like a punch to the lungs, freezing me solid. Then I’m jerking in shock as gunfire erupts through the cave. The men hunched down, leveling their weapons with their doors that spill snow and ice over their hands. Onto their coats. At their feet. Red sparks fly against the darkness with each shot up and down the line.

  I shake myself, raising my gun. I look through the hole into the darkness, unable to see anything. Nothing but black outside, white snow pouring in. But there has to be something. The banging on the doors continues, louder than before. Louder than the gunshots. The scraping will haunt my dreams for months. For years. A horrible sound that’s hungry and angry. Desperate and so insanely real.

  Just because I can’t see the monsters doesn’t mean they’re not out there. It doesn’t mean they won’t break this door down to kill us all.

  I square my shoulders the way Grayson taught me. I plant my feet. I take a breath, I let it out slowly, and I fire on the exhale. I fire again. And again. I empty my clip into the night, and when it’s gone I look around, searching for another one. Grayson is immediately there. He hands me a fresh clip, tosses my empty into a cart behind us. There are runners going up and down the line empting the baskets and refilling others. They must be refilling the clips too. Always making sure we have one at the ready.

  I fumble with my gloves to insert the new clip, but I drop it entirely when I hear a scream. It cuts through the air to my right. One of the men is pinned against the wall at the shoulder. He’s struggling to get back but he can’t. The men around him pull at him, bracing their feet on the door to push off, but they can’t break him free. Finally someone is able to wedge the barrel of his gun between the man and the door, and he fires a round of shots into the hole. Whatever has him lets go and they all collapse on the floor in a heap of glistening blood that looks black as tar in the darkness.