COME, THE DARK: (Forever Girl Series Book Two)

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Even after night has settled, I must stay indoors, waiting until the windows in town go black, until all that remains is the sulfur of snuffed candles. Though my doors and windows are shut, the cool breeze carries through the crack beneath the door, bringing with it the smell of night, the musk of animals in the forest. Each shift of temperature plays over my skin as the dark cools the earth.

  I’ve always felt trapped in Salem—and within myself—but now I am also trapped by the acuteness of my senses.

  When the dark has come, I sneak out to the forest trails, ready to make my way back to William and Tess. Tonight, the moon is as bright as the sun, but the world is shadowed in a bluish cool.

  The Morts are everywhere, peeking from behind bushes and cluttering the open spaces as though they themselves are the trees that make the forest. An owl screeches in the distance, but it sounds closer, right in my ear. I freeze, looking around. At my feet, a dead bird. I look closer, frowning. Verity would call that bad luck. But I don’t have much time to think about Verity, because just as I’m stepping around the poor thing, a pain stabs in my stomach. I brace myself against an old oak, coughing.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Lightning flashes in the sky, but the air is innocent of rain. My legs tremble, and I get a sudden head rush, like thorns prickling my brain. I stumble forward, trying to remember which way to go, which direction I’ve come from and how far I am from the clearing.

  The river is to my right, but I don’t remember how far I have gone or where on the path I had turned. If only the music would return...if only it would whisper my name...but there is only silence. There is no calling, no draw—only burning pain, spreading from my stomach up into my throat.

  I cough again. This time, I cough up blood that relieves my dry mouth and cracked lips. The nausea and pain drop me to my knees. I scan for the fire, for William or Tess. Unable to make the distance back to my house, I claw my way off the main path. I’m overcome by a thirst and hunger so strong that I cannot tell one from the other. I can’t think straight with all this pain. I don’t know what to do.

  “William?” I say, but my voice only allows a whisper. “Tess?”

  I don’t know why I would even bother calling their names. I only know I can’t do this on my own. Not this, not any of it. Normally I would hate how my helplessness makes me appear weak, but right now I’m in too much pain to care.

  One thing does not change: I don’t like needing anyone’s help, especially not the help of people who can’t possibly understand my plight to return to my daughter.

  Something creaks behind me. I turn my head, only to catch a glimpse of a man standing at the edge of the forest trail, a lamp-shade swinging in his grasp.

  The diffused candlelight illuminates the face of Reverend Parris.

  He can’t see me. The light doesn’t reach this far along the path.

  I roll into the underbrush, grass burrs pricking into my calves, thighs, and the side of my back. A whippoorwill flies out into the forest. All the noise—the rustling of leaves, the flap of wings—grate in my ears. Surely I’ve drawn Reverend Parris’ attention, but when I dare peek again, he is gone. Afraid to move, I curl up in ball and try to quiet my rapid breathing.

  My shaking stirs the leaves of the underbrush, but I don’t know if I’m shaking from the pain and nausea or from the fear. The world blurs and darkens.

  * * *

  “Holy fuck.”

  Tess’ voice is the first thing I hear as I’m returning to semi-consciousness. I know it’s her because her voice has been imprinted in my mind since the first time I heard her speak. Even for all the anger and vulgarity of her tone, there’s always that innocence behind it that makes me wonder about her.

  Trying to bring my vision back, I blink, but everything is dark. I’m lifted. An arm under my neck and another under my knees. My sense of space spins and tilts with each heavy step. When the scent of an ocean breeze washes over me, I imagine William is carrying me. His breathing is steady and masculine, and his hands are rough and worn. I’m certain it’s him. When I am set down, his voice confirms.

  “Drink quickly,” he says.

  Still I cannot see. Something cold with a metal tang is thrust to my lips, and a sweet fluid rushes into my mouth, the ache cooling first in my throat and then in my stomach. Strong hands ease me to lie back onto something soft.

  Slowly, my vision returns. The room is a haze. It’s not much different than my own home—Abigail’s home—except there’s no door for a bedroom. No tables, no chairs. I’m lying on an unmade cot, and there’s a small basin on the dirt floor beneath the window. A sword leans against the wall nearest a door made of warped boards.

  “Where—where are we?”

  Tess flops Indian style on ground beside the bed. “At the corner of you’re an idiot and we’re saving your life.”

  Grateful, I look to William, but as soon as his eyes meet mine, my warming cheeks alert me to turn away.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  Silence. I’m forced to look at him again. His jaw clenches, and his eyebrows pull lower over his eyes. He walks over to the window and grips the windowsill hard with his hands. Tess puts her hand on my forearm, drawing my attention and giving me a quieting stare.

  What did I say to upset him? As I sit up, I get another bout of dizziness. I put one hand to my head, trying to stabilize my vision. “What happened?”

  William spins toward me, his fist pressed to his mouth. He drops it away again. “Did you stop to think of someone other than yourself? Did you think, for even a second, that maybe you ought to wait for us to call on you, as we said we would?”

  Of course I had thought of someone other than myself. I was thinking of Verity.

  I open my mouth to speak, but William stalks toward me, not stopping until he reaches the end of the bed. “You could have gotten yourself killed, or worse, exposed our kind.”

  “Nice to know your priorities,” I choke out.

  “You want to help your daughter? Do us all a favor—use your head.”

  He stops there, his stance wilting. I swallow. The silence is loud in my ears. I want to be anywhere but here, but I don’t want to move, don’t want to draw attention to myself.

  William sinks into the edge of the bed, leans forward, and rests his elbows on his knees. He drops his head into his hands, then looks at me, his eyes softer now. “I’m sorry. But Cordovae—what were you thinking?”

  “I had to talk to you.”

  “Next time, wait. We were coming for you. We will always come for you if you just wait.” He reaches over and places his hand on mine. I want it to stay there forever, but I can’t even look at him when he’s touching me without feeling an attraction I should not feel.

  I’m immediately overcome by anger with myself. I shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way. I barely know this man. I’ll be leaving soon. We both have more important things to worry about, and I have no reason to think the attraction is mutual.

  “Sorry to get cross with you,” he says when I don’t respond, then he stands and strolls a few feet away again.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Tess’ home. Miles from the settlement. It took most of my energy to get us here in time to save you. If you hadn’t drank the nightshade in time...”

  “Nightshade?” I repeat, unable to hide the panic in my voice.

  My mind flashes back to the Pa of my childhood. Camping. Warnings about what plants to eat and which to avoid. Nightshade could kill me. How can I reverse this before it’s too late? Before I’m dead? My lungs constrict. I’m too panicked to breathe.

  “Why on earth would you give me nightshade?” My words come out all wobbly from fear.

  “That is what the Ankou eat,” William says. “The plants and berries poisonous to humans sustain the Ankou’s life and abilities. These things are not harmful to you now.”

  If the Nightshade doesn’t kill me, I’ll believe him. In the meantime, I’m still
hesitant to eat or drink anything else they give me. I push my apprehensions aside, knowing there is no time to waste.

  Tess heads for the fireplace, her dark braid swaying near the small of her back. There’s something different about her tonight, but I can’t place it. “We must work fast. Cord needs to return by morning,” she says. “We can’t risk their suspicion over her missing.”

  Now I have a nickname, apparently, but I hardly care. In fact, it makes me feel a little more at home.

  “What if she goes into another collapse?” William asks. “She can’t possibly have completed the first one.”

  Tess shrugs. “So they might think she is ill and no one will want to go near her. If she keeps her curtain up and her cape on, it should be fine. What is important is that they are not out looking for her.”

  Something about the way she says this draws attention to her mouth. Her bottom lip is fuller than the top, like she is perpetually pouting. I’ve figured out what’s different about her tonight: her lips are stained red. Maybe from that radish on the counter...but why would she do that? It makes her look old, and this is not a world where a young woman should be in a rush to look older.

  William swallows and gives a single nod. “Warm something for her to eat.”

  “Something human,” I clarify. “Or is that not allowed?”

  William chuckles. “That’s fine, Cord.”

  I sit up, the moment sudden and cold on my skin. I feel...better. “What happened to me back there?”

  Tess pours some dark liquid and cubes of meat into the iron pot over the fire. “When you awake for the first time after a collapse, you need to get the right herbs into your system immediately. I didn’t sense you’d awakened until it was too late.”

  “I’ve been awake all day.”

  Tess shrugs. “Guess we’re lucky you made it as long as you did, then.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, irritated. “You guess we’re lucky?”

  Perhaps I am thinking too poorly of Tess, but part of me wonders if she really didn’t sense I’d awakened until just now, seeing as how it sounds like they are supposed to be able to sense such things.

  William places his hand on my outstretched leg. The touch creates a flutter in my stomach. “Tess is new to this, too. Don’t let her fool you. When we did finally get to you, we had to wait for the man who followed you to leave. We can’t risk anyone seeing us.”

  But apparently they can risk me dying.

  These are the people I’m fighting for? Well, if that’s what it takes to get back to Anna, so be it, but they won’t get any more from me than I’m obligated to give.

  “If you want my help,” I say, “then you’re going to have to answer some questions.”

  I think I’ve been pretty easy-going up until now, but as my shock and confusion erode, I find myself getting angry.

  William’s brow furrows. “What kind of questions?”

  “For one, it’s bright as day outside right now. In the middle of the night.”

  “Our kind are able to see at night as though it were daylight,” William says. “It is to help us hunt.”

  “Should I suppose it’s also normal for our kind to touch a molding loaf of bread, and it...it...”

  “Heal?” Tess supplies.

  “Yes,” I say. “A friend of mine witnessed me doing so this morning.”

  William shakes his head. “Healing things, especially things made from the earth, is one of the gifts of the Ankou as well. But you absolutely cannot let people see you do it.”

  “It’s not as though I did it on purpose,” I say. “Perhaps you two should tell me what to expect. I can’t hide things if I don’t know what to hide.”

  “It’s sounds as though you aren’t worried your friend will say anything,” Tess says, but it’s more of a question.

  “She won’t. But a Mort followed her when she came into my house and again when she left. In the short time of our visit, it seemed to be drawing closer to her. I came looking for you both to ask what to do.”

  Tess stares off into space as she uses a large wooden ladle to stir the food in the pot. The salty aroma of beef and the sweet smell of wine waft toward me, but the stirring in my belly tells me the liquid is not wine.

  After a moment, her focus returns to me. “I wouldn’t feel good about it, either,” she says. She’s tugging her earlobe again. “Especially if that woman knows what you are capable of. If the Mort overtakes her, it could mean death for you both. And the Mort won’t stop there.”

  Her answer isn’t comforting, and I shrug, unsure of what to say and feeling a little defensive.

  William closes his eyes and shakes his head. “We need more time, Tess.”

  “Time for what?” I ask.

  Tess sighs heavily. “More time to train you before you start moving spirits. But,” she says, “we don’t have time. We can teach you what you need to know to help your friend, but you might not learn quickly enough. That could cause problems for us, but we can’t exactly run off to fix this for you now.”

  “Why not?”

  Williams frowns. “Tess is right. It will draw too much attention if we enter your town now, especially if we are moving Morts while we are there. We can’t risk our lives for that—we need to make sure we survive long enough to handle all the Mort population, not just one. That requires time and strategy. As for your friend, you might be able to save her discreetly on your own, once you know how, but you haven’t had any training yet.”

  “Right,” Tess says, “and we’re supposed to wait until two weeks after a collapse before we start, but if this woman knows your secret and there is a Mort seeking to possess her...” She freezes when her eyes meet William’s. “We can’t wait.”

  Good. I don’t have time to wait, and Verity doesn’t have time for me to wait, either.

  “What about this ‘collapse’?” I ask.

  “It’s like hibernation for the Ankou,” Tess says. “It happens every time you sleep. You—”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s going to happen every time I sleep?”

  William chuckles and removes his hand from my shin. “You’ll only sleep once a decade. The collapse can last anywhere from a fortnight to a month, and when you awake, you’ll need to feed immediately.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask.

  Tess sashays over with a wooden bowl filled with a burgundy liquid and meat. “Here,” she says. She sits beside me again with her own bowl of food. “When a human is turned Ankou, they always have a collapse their first night. I thought we’d be able to get to you before you awoke, but you only slept a week.”

  Only a week? I thought it was only one night. “Well, that’s just...lovely.”

  She rolls her eyes and takes a few bites of the stew then passes the rest to William. She points to my food. “Eat,” she says. “Gain your strength. We have much to do tonight.”

  January 1692

  We’re standing in a field that stretches toward clouds hovering like smoke on the horizon. Standing as prey though we aim to be the hunters. I’m noticing for the first time the way my skin sheens gold in the moonlight. It almost makes up for those ugly veined wings that plague me in the light of day. It’s strange that I can still feel my wings, even when they are not visible. They make me feel ugly, even though no one can see them now—not even me.

  This I can handle, though. It’s William that makes me woozy.

  The golden sheen on his skin affects me differently, more mesmerizing. Or maybe it’s the way his lightweight clothes drape on broad shoulders or fall to bare feet. His attire is ideal for combat, but consequently also ideal for showing off his perfect physical condition. I have to stop my mind from wandering; he looks so heavenly that I can barely think straight.

  What would Verity make of tonight? Clear skies, she says, signal good luck. The lack of birds, however, would be unsettling. I sigh deeply, trying to push thoughts of my dear friend away. I can’t worry about her tonight.
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  In the distance, beyond the cold, whitewashed field, a deer faces me before leaping into the darkness, into the forest, into the safety of trees that obscure her from view.

  William approaches me in that way of his—that open body posture that makes me feel instantly comfortable around him, and the steady eye contact that makes me feel both uncomfortable and trusting at the same time. The sword strapped to his back—the hilt peeking over his shoulder—makes him look even stronger, even more capable of keeping me safe until I return to Anna.

  I catch my breath just as he reaches me and hands me a small pouch.

  “Open it,” he says.

  So I do.

  Inside are three small wind chimes. He’s wearing the same ones on a cord around his neck. My heart skips a beat, thinking at first it’s a romantic gesture, but then Tess’ chimes clink as they dangle at the end of her silky black braid.

  “Don’t get them wet,” William says simply.

  “They won’t work when they’re wet?”

  He grins, stretching, and takes an easy breath. His gaze falls back to me. “Just don’t get them wet, all right?”

  “I’ll take that to mean I don’t want to know...So what’s it for?”

  “We wear them when we hunt,” Tess says. “It calls out the Morts.”

  The twinkle of the chimes reminds me of home—of the place where Anna waits for me. For a moment, I imagine the field flooded with red poppies. They’re turning black. They crumble like dust and disappear from my mind. There’s a cradle in the distance, a baby crying, and then it’s all gone, and it’s just me standing here with Tess and William. The vision had seemed so real, so unlike my usual daydreams, that I’m startled.

  “Something’s wrong,” I say.

  Tess takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You will overcome these feelings. Stay strong.”

  William steps in front of us, his broad shoulders blocking my vision of the field beyond. “Seers who join the Ankou are more sensitive to the influence of Cruor spirits. They will play tricks on your mind, but you must fight. You must separate your past from your current reality.”