Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3)

by Leigh, Taylor

  ‘Knock it off, kids! Save it for later!’ The woman none too gently pushed Victoria to the side. ‘Now, Andrew this is very important: tell me what you saw.’

  Andrew was puffing up like a cobra. ‘Why? It’s irrelevant! And what business is it of yours? You’re not a Myrmidon, obviously. So why infiltrate their group? To satisfy your own curiosity or do you have other motives? Why should I tell you a damn thing?’

  Arkron gave him an impassive look. ‘I know who the Myrmidons are. I know what their goals are. And I know a hell of a lot more than you.’

  Andrew’s eyes narrowed to cold slits. ‘That would be quite an accomplishment.’

  Arkron looked to the ceiling. ‘Listen, this might sound hard to believe to your oh-so enlightened mind, but I’ve been around a lot longer than you and I know a lot more about this supernatural stuff. I’m the one Tollin goes to for help, so I’d shut up and stop being so suspicious.

  ‘What you’ve just been through was not a hallucination. I’ve been searching a long time for one of your kind and I’m not about to let your stubbornness keep me from what I need to know. Now talk.’

  Protectiveness spiked in Victoria and she straightened. ‘What do you mean “one of his kind”?’

  ‘Andrew is very special, didn’t you know?’

  ‘He’s smart, yeah.’ Victoria pulled his hair away from his face. Andrew was still looking a little dazed.

  Arkron waved dismissively. ‘No, I mean the other bit. You know, of course you know.’

  Victoria and Andrew exchanged a glance. ‘How do you know about that? Did Tollin tell you he was a medium?’

  Arkron laughed. ‘Oh, honestly! I can sense it about him. His kind has a certain…force about them. Something off, something other humans don’t feel like.’

  ‘I’m not—’ Andrew began to protest.

  She held up a hand, speaking over him. ‘Andrew is extra special, thanks to his…flaw.’

  Andrew stiffened. ‘Flaw?’ The word came out as a snarl. Andrew have a flaw? The very suggestion was offensive.

  ‘Do you mean Breakdown?’ Victoria asked. She hated to bring up the one thing Andrew despised about himself. His one weakness. It was all she could do to ignore the dangerous flare that sparked in his eyes at the mention of it. Yet a simple explanation such as that would come as some sort of relief.

  Arkron was growing impatient. ‘No, I don’t mean his disease.’

  Andrew blew out an irritated breath. ‘What then?’

  Her next look turned alarmingly surprised. ‘You mean Tollin really didn’t tell you?’

  Andrew glowered, growing more defensive. ‘No! I don’t understand what you’re referring to!’

  Victoria leant round his ridged shape, keeping a protective hand on his shoulder. ‘Tollin told Andrew that he’s a medium. That’s all he said.’

  Arkron turned introspective. ‘He must have had his reasons for keeping it from you, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t know. It involves you, after all.’

  ‘Whatever you’re babbling about, just tell me!’ Andrew snapped.

  ‘You’re one of the Empty.’

  Victoria swallowed back a new queasiness; how could a term completely unfamiliar to her still manage to sound ominous? ‘W—what does that mean?’

  Arkron’s manner became much too casual. ‘I’m afraid most people don’t find it very pleasant.’

  Andrew didn’t move. ‘Well, I’m not most people, am I?’

  She smiled wanly. ‘No, I don’t suppose you are. But you should feel honoured. Empties are rare. They are, quite simply, people born without a soul.’

  Andrew pompously huffed his breath and flopped back, disappointment radiating. ‘Souls. What utter nonsense.’

  ‘You don’t believe me,’ Arkron sounded more amused than anything else.

  Andrew gave her a nasty look. ‘Umm, no.’ He sat up straighter, adopting a painfully haughty expression. ‘I don’t believe in souls, or immortal life or ghosts or any of that other rubbish that all of you people seem so obsessed with! I believe in the concrete surroundings of this world. Things that can be proven by cold, hard facts.’

  Arkron’s lips twitched. ‘Says the fellow who’s been at, oh, how many séances these past few weeks?’

  He snorted.

  Victoria looked away from him. She wasn’t one to dismiss such things so easily. ‘What does that mean, really? Not having a soul? How is that even possible?’

  Arkron settled back comfortably. ‘A soul is what carries you into whatever lies beyond. I’d ask Andrew, he knows what’s there. Souls are the energy in you, the part that is immortal.’

  The horrible clarity crashed in on her. ‘And Andrew doesn’t have one.’

  ‘Correct.’

  Her eyes burned hot. ‘So that means when Andrew dies…’

  ‘He will simply cease to exist.’ Arkron spoke over Victoria’s broken conclusion. ‘But that’s not the interesting part! Empties are special. They’re mediums, as you know. They’re the only creatures capable of sensing souls, communicating with them, travelling to the spirit Realms. And they can accomplish it because they are, in fact, empty. They don’t have a soul taking up that space inside of them, so they can make room for other things!

  ‘Andrew is a vessel, able to take in ghosts, able to be a voice. He’s able to open his mind to planes we can’t begin to comprehend. A normal human couldn’t produce dark ectoplasm like that. Only an Empty could have enough space to channel that.’

  Andrew was eyeing her dubiously. He was, unsurprisingly, not impressed with her words. ‘This is rubbish! Enough! You’re talking nonsense! Get out; you’re bringing on another headache!’

  Arkron stood in a fluid movement and drifted towards Marus, who had up till this moment, been standing quietly at the back. She ran her hands over his chest. ‘I’ll be in the palace. Come and find me when you finally want answers.’

  And then they were gone.

  Andrew swept up a vase standing on a table next to him and hurled it against the wall. Victoria jumped as it shattered. She gave him an aggravated look, yet he didn’t direct his eyes her way. He savaged his fingernails.

  She let him be and sat in frustrated silence till she could take it no longer. She turned to him. ‘Care to tell me exactly what you’ve been up to?’

  He bristled like a hedgehog. ‘What?’

  ‘You were supposed to be translating Sam’s writings, and here I find you with that mysterious group, sick to the point of unconscious, gagging up black stuff and falling into trances!’

  Andrew wrapped his arms round himself protectively. ‘I was curious. I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Curious! I swear, one day you’re going to kill yourself thanks to your curiosity!’

  He ignored her, still fuming. Victoria stood and took his arm, hauling him to his feet. ‘Come on, you need rest. You’re a mess right now.’

  Andrew was still unsteady on his feet, swaying and wobbling like a drunk, taking care with each step. Victoria finally managed to deposit him on her mattress. He groaned unhappily, eyes shutting once he felt the softness beneath him.

  Victoria let out a deep breath as she readied herself for bed. She felt strange, uncomfortable and she didn’t like the creeping feeling that was gradually gnawing away at her consciousness. It took her a moment to accept what she was sensing.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She wondered how long she’d been feeling it. How ignorant had she been her whole life to it? Had leaving the planet, leaving its oppressive watchfulness somehow made her become aware of the hint of its presence? Something out of the corner of her eye. Shadowing her.

  She shuddered. It made her feel a bit ill to think on. So she tried to push it from her mind as she collapsed next to Andrew. He was already asleep and she was, despite her shattered nerves, close to follow.

  Victoria awoke in darkness. Outside, a storm was wailing. Her heart thudded as she tried to work out what had awoken her. She’d long ago become accusto
med to storms; Scottorr and Scrabia had that much in common.

  She rolled to her side and her mind was suddenly clear. Andrew was lying on his back, eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling. At first, Victoria was worried that perhaps he was trapped in the throes of another one of his brutal headaches, but this was different.

  His chest rose and fell with a steady, shallow movement, as if just holding back enough to keep from panicking. Victoria didn’t know if he’d even noticed her watching him. He’d shown no signs.

  She placed a hand timidly on his chest. For a brief pause he did not stir, save for a catch in his breath. And then he did: slowly, reluctantly, shifting his eyes down to her; exhaling. His gaze held an expression she did not often see from him. Bleak and tinged with uncertainty.

  ‘You all right?’ she asked quietly.

  His eyes left her. ‘Yes. Fine.’

  She bit her bottom lip. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think you are.’

  For a second she thought he might argue, but he didn’t. He seemed deflated. ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he muttered at last.

  Victoria sat up some. ‘I know you’re upset by what Arkron said.’

  He huffed his breath haughtily. ‘If you believe all that nonsense about—’

  ‘Your whole view on life has been completely altered. It’s understandable for you to feel upset or…confused. No-one blames you for that.’

  Andrew almost snarled. ‘I don’t even believe what she said. How can I? Empty? Without a soul? Don’t be ridiculous! There’s no such,’ he swallowed, ‘no such thing.’

  Victoria took a deep, steadying breath. ‘But we both know that’s no longer true. You’ve seen spirits. Spoken to them! Whatever your views were before, they no longer fit.’ She spoke over his protests. ‘Isn’t it true in scientific research that you must be unbiased? What would science become if everyone simply ignored a new fact just because, up till then, it conflicted with their own views? Science would become a twisted, warped story where everyone’s comfortable beliefs are more valued than the truth.’

  Andrew made a move to argue yet stopped himself.

  ‘Up till now, you believed in no afterlife. And you’ve always been okay with that. Now…now it’s been presented to you not only as fact, but as…as something you can’t have and I know it has to hurt you.’

  Andrew finally turned to study her. He almost seemed to glow in the pale light. Pretty enough to catch her breath. He was not even aware of it.

  ‘I’m not… bothered by that,’ he said at last. ‘Before I did not consider the afterlife and I wasn’t concerned by simply dying and that being the end. Now that it is a…certainty…my views have not changed. I feel the same as I did. It doesn’t matter.’

  Victoria nodded; she didn’t much like it, but she could at least understand that acceptance in his mind.

  ‘But after what I’ve experienced, I cannot help but feel fear and pity for those who do have souls.’

  There was something in the way he said it that sent a chill running through her. She waited for him to continue in growing apprehension. He did not. ‘What do you mean?’

  Andrew gazed into space. ‘There’s something else I sense out there. Something dark and hungry. Any of those souls left behind, those not found by whatever this Light is? They’re food to be devoured. There is no stopping this darkness. No fleeing it. Souls are simply prey and the predator is out there and whatever chance of sleep or peace is steadily and quickly decreasing. That is what the spirits have told me.’

  Victoria didn’t know what to say. Her brain did little tumbles of fear. ‘What is it? Are you speaking of another spirit?’

  Andrew’s voice went quiet. ‘I don’t know.’

  They both lay in the darkness for a while. Victoria began to feel very small. ‘Andrew?’

  He looked down at her, eyes uncommonly soft.

  ‘Will you hold me?’

  He sighed heavily but shifted to his side and slid his arms around her shoulders in a powerful, oddly comforting embrace. Victoria coiled closer in against him. For a moment he rested his lips against the curve of her neck. She could feel the heat of his breath against her skin.

  ‘What do we do about it?’ she whispered after a time.

  Andrew seemed to struggle for he was very still. ‘I don’t know. But as daft as it sounds, I feel I’m supposed to do something. I have this ability for a reason. I may hate it, but I feel I have to use it.’

  Victoria smiled and pressed her lips to his arm. ‘I’ve never heard you talk that way. It’s nice.’

  He puffed his breath. ‘Why? Because I don’t sound like a selfish bastard?’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘No. Because you are willing to accept your destiny even after you’ve had all of your views so radically changed. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

  Andrew chuckled darkly. ‘Destiny…’ he sighed. ‘So, you think I should help them? All those lost souls searching for the Light?’

  She stared into the dark. ‘I think you’re their only hope.’

  Andrew took a deep breath. ‘I was afraid you’d say that. Poor souls, being stuck with me. Well, here’s to being responsible.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tollin listened to his breathing, focusing on how his chest rose and fell. A thousand years. How many breaths had he taken in that amount of time? He felt his muscles stretch as his lungs expanded. Tangy, electrified air pulled into him.

  I’m so old…

  His eyes closed. And he saw her. It had been thirty years since he’d seen her face; touched her hand. His mouth went dry and the familiar, painful ache returned to his chest. The warmth of her resting beside him was alien. It had never really happened, so why did he ache of it now? The soft drape of blonde hair, those teasing lips…

  What would he do if he saw her again?

  He shook his head. No. He was not allowed to think about that. He’d kept those thoughts locked tightly away. No matter how lonely he grew, or how much he longed for company or love, or just someone to bloody talk to, he kept those thoughts of Sam barred.

  He balled his hands into fists at his sides as brief thoughts he couldn’t catch in time flitted through his mind.

  His body spiked with too many points of pain and as Tollin rolled to a sitting position it took more out of him than he anticipated. He winced.

  He’d fallen today. Fallen quite far. And hurt like hell to land.

  Tollin’s body was more durable than a human’s, thanks to his dragon DNA, but that didn’t mean he was invincible. Stronger bones could still be broken.

  Moving; moving had been difficult. But lying helpless and stunned on the main island, where Craven lurked in any given dark corner, was not an option. Somehow he’d managed to drag himself back to his island and his relative safety. Then he’d blacked out. It had been then that the uncontrollable thought of her came; drifting in a frightening dark.

  That had been many long hours ago and he still was finding it difficult to move. His body healed quickly if he allowed himself time to rest, but bones took a long time, no matter what, and he’d been too exhausted to examine himself. His arm needed to be set, when he could manage. His ribs, perhaps.

  At least his spine had survived.

  Tollin had been attempting to find the electrical source of the island. He had meant to find it ages ago, yet something about this island…it made him so incredibly tired.

  Perhaps it was because there was simply nothing to do in a Realm such as this, yet it was alarming nonetheless. Unconsciousness took him by surprise too often and too easily. He would find himself leaving things unfinished, nodding off, sleeping sometimes for a decade without any intention or realisation he’d done so.

  Yes, he had to admit there was something sinister about such a sleep. It was a seductive, unnatural thing, pulling him down when he least expected it, encouraging him to waste his life away in slumber, as Craven did; pulling him down into dreams of Sam. Fantasies he did not
consciously acknowledge. In his sleep she was a dark, ethereal thing, pulling him in. It nearly made him ashamed.

  He stared out at the blackness, unnerved; unable to shake the creeping feeling he was being watched—by what, he did not know. Some unknown entity drifting out there, like a shark in the water, spawning paranoia deep in his mind.

  This Realm had a way of chipping away at one’s consciousness—one’s sanity, in a gradual, almost unnoticeable way. If he let his attention slip, his awareness lower, before he knew it was working at him. Making him stupid, careless, slow, forgetful. Like this bloody place was some drug and if he didn’t constantly fight against it—even in his sleep, he’d become too high to care. It was the only way Tollin could explain it. Only way he could explain Craven, and just how inhuman he was.

  Thirty years of it! There were times he found it hard to believe. Time in this place, it crawled by and bled together and there was no way to measure it despite the few pieces of technology he’d brought along. And even those he wasn’t sure he could trust for the hands on his watch would tick too slow or too fast when he did not pay close attention.

  Tollin didn’t know how long it would take before what happened to Craven would happen to him; he hadn’t discussed the length of his companion’s imprisonment. However long, he couldn’t allow it. He had to keep his wits about him till he could see Samantha Turner again. That was what he clung to to stay strong.

  However, he had been productive for the day, at least until the fall.

  He’d assumed the castle contained some core which—he couldn’t quite come up with an explanation at the moment—was the main source of power. How else to explain the humming crystals? If he could find a way to channel that electricity to his island, perhaps he could get the transmitter up and running. It was, really, his only hope.

  He’d been nervously poking about the place where Craven had made his den. And it was there he’d found the power. Or at least he’d gotten nearer. He’d unfortunately grasped hold of a particularly cruel crystal charged with energy and it had sent him flying back down the tower he’d been scaling.