The Airel Saga Box Set: Young Adult Paranormal Romance

by Aaron Patterson

  I stood and tried to reason, each irrational dream thought coming as a surprise, comic strangers that couldn’t possibly have issued from my own internal process. I let these apparitions of possibility parade absurdly before me until finally I decided there was only one thing to be done—whatever needed to be done. And the only thing I could think of after that was a single, risky, harebrained thought.

  Maybe death is the only way out of a bad dream.

  I heard pages turning.

  The rustle of feathers.

  I heard that strange but friendly voice in the recesses of my mind whispering to me. I could pick it out from my other thoughts; I could tell when something wasn’t Airel. I had to listen.

  “Be careful, Airel. Things are not what they seem.”

  I ran. I ran straight at the iron bars of my cage, slamming my shoulder into them, screaming in rage and frustration as I did. It hurt. I had expected them to do anything other than that. What, I didn’t know.

  My little cage rocked, groaning in protest, and I felt my world turning horribly.

  I could feel the rhythm of the swinging I had created and I decided to exploit it. I pushed hard, throwing my weight into the wall. The cage leaned crazily on its side, and I caught glimpses straight down to the concentric maw of writhing rocks below.

  I felt a shudder. The single limb that held me snapped dead, the sound of a rifle shot ringing out.

  I fell.

  The cage tumbled, turning over and over, flashes of black shard reached up for me from below; it all happened too fast and I screamed, both hoping and dreading that someone would hear me crying out for help.

  But really, I knew the truth. There were none who could help me. I was different: just what I’d always wanted to be.

  The explosion of wood was deafening on impact, and the clang of iron against stone ran right over my ears like a truck on the freeway, drowning out my screams. But the dream would end now. I would awake; I’d be snatched right out of here and thrown back into myself.

  But there was pain. This couldn’t be a dream.

  The impact hurt badly, and unsurprisingly, I was injured. But it meant I was alive, if nothing else.

  I lifted my head to survey the destruction. The bird cage had left wooden shrapnel in a large radius around me. Some of the bars lay at my feet, twisted and bent.

  I checked myself for damage and discovered that I had a serious problem. My left arm was shattered, hanging and ripped almost completely off near the elbow. Blood squirted out with each heartbeat and I could see the bone sticking out yellow-white, like a tooth. Blood ran down my arm and dripped off my fingers.

  I was going to bleed to death.

  The panic I thought would come never did, though the pain was so sharp I could feel myself going into shock. In a matter of minutes, I would be dead in this godforsaken place, alone and confused, not knowing how or why I was here, or even where here was. As numbness took over my wounds, ambivalence cast its shadow over my heart and I became carefree.

  Then another shadow, emaciated and malign, reached for me. Thick nausea washed through my gut, cresting in my throat, and I gagged. I sat in the pile of debris I had made, keeping my wrecked arm from falling completely off by holding it with my good one, and my back was turned to the shadow as it crept up my body, as it wickedly tasted of me.

  I could smell the stench of rotten flesh and mold. It was so strong I could taste it in my mouth; it was vile. Clicks and gurgles effervesced from this presence, sending shivers through me. I didn’t want to look at it. But I was compelled; I had to know. Something within me demanded I turn to face whatever was there. I turned.

  The thing was cloaked in waxy blackness, its hood pulled low. All that could be seen beneath the hem was a pair of blood-red eyes. Wetness dripped from the lip of the hood, making a puddle on the black ground. I was frozen, unable to look away.

  White and withered hands reached up slowly, pulling the hood back, revealing a dark nothingness; an empty void where a face should have been. It managed a grotesque laugh in spite of this, beholding my arm with pleasure, drooling clotted black slime down the front of its robe, leaving a long, stinking stain.

  I felt something move at my hip and I jumped with fright. I wrenched my gaze away from the figure before me to find my fingers brushing against my leg. My arm was whole again, the blood now dry. I let go of my arm, stretching it out to test it. It was as good as if it had never been broken, never gushed blood or hung by a thread of flesh. I flexed and wiggled my fingers. There was no pain; not so much as a scar was left where the bloody mess had been.

  The thing screeched like a dying owl and splattered me with brown snot and slime. I recoiled, crouching down, ready for the attack. It came right at me, and I reached out to resist.

  But as soon as I did, a shining white light, pure power, exploded between us, throwing me backward. I landed some distance away from the screeching thing.

  I looked up to see it rushing toward me with unreal speed, a big black stone in its hands. It raised the rock overhead, meaning to crush me. I rolled, but not fast enough. The rock caught me on the side of my head, wounding me badly.

  I saw pureness, nothing but clean whiteness, a tabula rasa. And then the strange world vanished painfully.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  I WAS ALIVE. SOMETHING was scratchy against my skin. I opened my eyes and tried to orient myself. I was not in a world of black mountains or shrieking monsters. I was on my back on the rough, weedy, straw grass of the practice field, and the whole football team was ringed around me, staring like I was the freak du jour.

  My head throbbed. I reached up to touch the bump that was forming on my forehead, the one I had sustained from the bleachers in real life, the fatal wound I had suffered in a nightmare. It was one and the same. And it hurt. I was a little freaked out as the last vestiges of the dream ebbed, a riptide slinking away as foamy reality washed in above, dominant.

  “Are you okay, Airel?” The voice, a rock crusher, could only be Coach Dennis. “Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” He looked down at me with a concerned scowl on his face, not so much in concern for my well-being as much as for the well-being of his team’s practice session. I could tell he wanted to command me not to pass out again. Football was serious business.

  “I’m fine,” I shouted. I sat up and tried to reboot myself. “I’m fine,” I said, trying to stand up. The dream clung to me by my fingertips; I was still scared out of my wits. But that quickly gave way to embarrassment as I stumbled and someone caught me. “Just slipped. Hit my head,” I lied, looking for emotional cover. I glanced around quickly and saw that the blond man was gone. I wasn’t surprised. I wondered if he was just a figment of my imagination, but then, Kim had seen him too.

  The coach said, “I’ll have one of the boys walk you to the nurse’s station to get looked at.” He snapped his fingers at his minions and then looked me dead in the eyes, pointing his fat index finger at my welt. “Never mess with a head injury.”

  Michael said, “I’ll take her, Coach.” He was already at my side, lifting me into his arms like a helpless victim—or like a Roman bride, God help me—before I could do or say anything.

  My mouth was not responding to my will, but my arms wrapped around his neck. That was a reflex. After all, what if he dropped me? Yeah, right. Kim wore a stupid grin on her face that suggested I had fallen on purpose just so I could get carted off in Michael’s arms. Yeah, Kim, it’s a total conspiracy—and I’m not actually your friend, either.

  Coach barked one last order at Michael. “Fine. Come right back, though. We have two more drills before the end of practice, and you need to run them.” Michael nodded, and I could smell the sweat from his skin. I didn’t mind it. Everything about him smelled good anyway, and I couldn’t help but get carried away with the fact that my dream guy—heck, any girl’s dream guy—was not only paying attention to me, not only close to me, not only holding me … but he wasn’t afraid to sweat on me, either.


  Michael whispered just low enough for me to hear. “You should be more careful. Next time you might break your neck.” There was a delicious smirk on his face.

  I tried to sound mad, but it came off weak. “I’m fine.”

  “Hm.” Michael snorted. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  I gasped in feigned shock. “Don’t go around quoting MacBeth. People will think you’re a total nerd-ola.”

  He just smiled and kept going, carrying me like a knight of the realm would carry a maiden from the dragon’s lair.

  “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk just fine on my own.”

  “Sure you can, but it’s more fun this way.”

  I was in heaven, feeling his strong arms enfolding me. In spite of everything that had happened in the past few days, all the chaos and weirdness, I felt secure in his arms. I could have died happy on the spot. I did not want him to let me go, not ever.

  “We wouldn’t want you to slip and fall again,” he said softly, his face very close. “That could be embarrassing.”

  Oh, nooo. We wouldn’t want me to be embarrassed. All else was gone, forgotten. I just really love the whole entire world right now… I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, to help him. If I were a daring girl, I might have dared to rest my head on his chest, but that wasn’t going to happen. At least, not yet. “Yeah, well, just walk, mister, and try not to drop me if you can manage it.”

  “I’ll be fine. You’re only what, a couple hundred pounds?” Before I could react and pretend I was going to smack him, he blurted out, “Just kidding.”

  Kim ran ahead of us, catching up from flirting with James, and opened the door to the nurse’s station. She broadcast her impish smile as we passed, rolling her eyes obnoxiously.

  Michael set me down on my feet, and for a moment we were in Rome, I was Audrey Hepburn and he was my handsome hero, and I had just told him I wanted to walk in the rain. I wanted to pull him closer to me, but I didn’t dare.

  I decided to sit down just to be safe. He sat right next to me. My heart flew. He looked at me with concern, staring into my eyes. Our faces were only a few inches away from each other and I could feel his breath. He smelled like Powerade and laundry soap and late-summer heat.

  His eyes held me in a lock that I couldn’t break as they searched for something. I couldn’t tell what he was trying to find. “Thank you,” I said in a soft whisper. It was like a kiss. I was all too aware of how I must have looked, with a goofy-looking face and a big fat lump on my forehead. I flushed and turned away, breaking the spell.

  He stood up and said, “‘Kay, then,” waved his perfect hand at me, and left. I didn’t know what to think.

  Kim plopped down with a sigh in the chair he had only seconds ago occupied. I was a little jolted by that sacrilege. “Fell?” Her voice was sugary sweet and her eyelashes fluttered. “What a load of crap. You passed out because you were scared to death.” She was pointing and poking at me.

  “Dude, ow. Chill.” I grabbed her pointy finger angrily and shoved it back at her. I was a little offended at how my fantasy world had been so suddenly and rudely popped. She of all people, my best friend, ought to have known that I needed time to come down from that high. Dang it.

  My life was a struggle again and things were impossible, unexplained, and dangerous. And then front and center in my memory was the face of a cold-blooded killer. It all came pouring back over me.

  The killer had found me at home, left a calling card, and now he had been watching me at school for who knows how long. I felt like my back was either up against a wall or like the wall had jumped onto my back and I could not get it off. There was nowhere safe anymore.

  “Airel.” Kim sounded like she knew what I was thinking, and I realized I was holding my head in my hands. “He’s stalking you. We should go to the police. I mean like, now. This is getting a little out of control, don’t you think?”

  “We can’t, Kim. I don’t have a good reason. I mean, he knows something about me, and …” I caught myself and clamped my lips shut before I could say anything further.

  “Knows something about you?” She looked like I had just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

  What was I supposed to say? That I could heal, that I had some kind of power? That this stalker killer guy might be the only person who knew what was going on with me? That I needed to let him find me? Or that I needed to find him so I could get some answers? “Kim, I—”

  “I’m assuming you hit your head pretty hard because you’re not making any sense, Airel. This is not a game. You could get killed. Is that what you want?”

  I looked away. It occurred to me that the killer might be some other kind of villain that I had not yet considered. I let my imagination go for a sec. What if I were some kind of freak science experiment gone wrong? God only knew what kind of research some of these big pharma companies were doing, and who knew what kind of things the CIA might be up to. I felt crazy, but what if this dude was sent to bring me in? What if he was my handler, my boss? Crazier things happened Out There. I looked back at my best friend.

  “Kim?”

  “Uh, yeah, crazy girl?”

  I considered everything one last time. “Never mind.” I couldn’t even begin to explain, and I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.

  She reacted by recoiling from me, mouth open in disbelief as it dawned on her that I was totally shutting her out, and for the first time ever.

  The school nurse walked in just in time. The last thing I wanted to do was drop the bomb on my best friend that I didn’t feel safe telling her what was going on with me. But I had done just that, and I didn’t even use one word. Kim stood up and stormed out in a huff. Oh boy. That will take some time to fix. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I decided right there to figure out what was happening to me on my own. Even if it meant putting myself in danger, I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it—especially my Kimmie.

  As I followed the nurse into the exam room, my heart was flipping around inside me, doing cartwheels. I had just trampled all over my best friend. But necessity, or survival, focused my entire mind. If I could only solve this riddle. I was trapped inside a game I didn’t want to play.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  I SAT ON YET another exam table wondering what it all meant. Perhaps I was sicker than I knew. The dream of the cage—now that I was alone—mocked and haunted me. I could feel black dust filling my nostrils, the stench of the demon as it hovered just inside the fringe of my memory.

  I felt really bad about Kim. She was a good friend and I was probably being unfair to her, but I wanted to keep her at a safe distance from this—from me—for a while.

  Fluttering.

  The sound of pages turning in a book.

  She, I called her. Kind of like Mom, but not. More like a feminine voice of wisdom, as if those who had preceded me in this life were a cloud of witnesses in array, waiting for me at critical points on my path, ready to counsel me. Whenever I heard She speak, I felt like I was hearing truth. And I could not deny that I was indeed changing. I knew the change would be permanent, whatever it was, for better or for worse.

  What the heck was I going to tell Kim? Where in the world would I start? I knew that no matter what, she would always be my best friend. But I hesitated. I felt like there was too much at stake. It wouldn’t be long, I could feel it, until these fears—fears that were unspeakable now—were made real.

  Michael. I could tell him, couldn’t I? Not that I had any logical or sane reason to trust him, other than the fact that I was beginning to fall for him. That wasn’t it, though. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel like I could tell him anything without reservation.

  Miss Parks, the school nurse, flashed a bright light into one eye and then the other. That brought me out of my daydreaming. I normally liked to daydream, but lately I had lost control of my thoughts. “You look fine,” she said. “Nothing more than a bump on the head, as far as I
can tell. Are you feeling better? Do you have a headache?”

  I didn’t have a headache or even feel bad. A terrible thought came to me. What if the nasty throbbing welt on my forehead heals and disappears right in front of Miss Parks? I figured it would be smart to fake a headache, because most people in my situation would have a whopper. I winced and put my fingers to my temples. “Yep. My head feels like it’s stuck under a school bus. Do you have anything for that?” Hey, Miss Parks, don’t worry about it. It’ll heal here in the next few seconds … just watch.

  She smiled a school nurse’s smile, conciliatory and shallow. “I’ll get you some Tylenol. That should help.” She hurried into the other room.

  I stood up and walked toward the door so that when she got back, I could get out of there as fast as possible.

  Miss Parks came back into the room, handed me a little packet of Tylenol, and put her hand on my shoulder. “Take two now and two more in a few hours if you still have a headache. And try not to faint the next time you see a bunch of boys in football uniforms.” She giggled.

  I faked a light laugh. “Thanks for the Tylenol,” I said, turning to go.

  I opened the door. First I saw green and gold, then a football jersey, then Michael. He must have hurried back from practice after it ended. I grinned compulsively at him like an idiot and then tried to wipe it from my face, hiding behind my hand. But that only made it worse.

  He looked incredible. I tried to tear my eyes away from his, but did a double take. Something in his eyes refused to release me. It was shock, amazement—and then fear. “Airel,” he said, “wow. You heal fast.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  1250 B.C.—Arabia

  KREIOS TOUCHED DOWN ON the doorstep with a light crack of static electricity. His old friend Yamanu sat on the front porch of his little shack. It nestled among the undergrowth of a deciduous forest, its roof swaybacked under the weight of years. Not far off, tall corn, ready for harvest, rattled in the cool night breezes. Yamanu sat in a wooden rocking chair smoking a pipe, and probably, Kreios thought, dreaming of the old days in another world. Kreios walked up the three creaky steps, took a seat next to his friend, and sat down without a word.