“Just the Cruor spirits? What about the spirits of other elementals?”
“When a Cruor meets their ultimate death, they are the least willing of any immortal to cross over. They use their power of influence to save themselves, to inhabit a new life. When that happens, it’s too late. We can’t move the Mort then, not without risking the human’s life.”
“Possession?” I whisper, chills prickling the tiny hairs on my arms.
Before William can respond, a blue pickup truck screeches to a halt just a few feet ahead of us. It revs, circling us, moving faster and faster, ripping the earth beneath its tires, polluting the air with the pungent taste of gasoline and upturned soil.
I shouldn’t know what the strange machine is, but in my heart I know, and I feel closer to Anna. I feel close to home, and I don’t want to separate from it, though fear picks up in my chest as the truck whips past. I can feel the way the truck displaces the air, my clothing shifting against my body and hair lifting.
Pa’s truck.
Pa’s the one who endangers Anna. He can’t be left alone with her.
“I’m going back,” I say. “I can feel it—I’m going back to Anna!”
William grasps my wrist. “It’s not real, Cordovae. You need to focus. I promise you will get back to her.”
“She needs me now,” I say.
“Trust me, Cord, please. You need to fight this.”
I narrow my eyes. “Trust you?”
My hand goes cold; Tess is gone from my side. Across the field, she stands by a dark figure—one of the fanged Morts. She digs her nails into the figure’s scalp, and their collective form vibrates, their edges blur. The Mort explodes into black particles that fall like charcoal snowflakes to the shadows between the roots of grass. The truck circling us fades.
Tess returns to our side, panting, eyes shining and alert. “See?” She sucks in a breath. “Illusion.”
Mama warned me about letting my overactive imagination cloud my judgment—but I don’t think this is what she had in mind.
I just stare into the space where the truck had just been, shaking my head. “It seemed...so real...I guess I’ll believe anything these days.”
“It happens to everyone in the beginning,” William says. “You will become stronger.”
“How long?” I ask. I need to know. “How long until I get back to Anna?”
“As long as it takes,” Tess says sharply. “You will be here until the numbers are manageable. Believe me, we are all working as quickly as we can. None of us want to be trapped here.”
“Trapped here?”
William gives Tess a sidelong glare. It’s a moment too long before his attention returns to me. “If we do not move the spirits quickly enough, they will prolong the war. And the longer you are here, the higher the probability that you become stuck.”
I step back. My heart might as well have stopped in my chest. “You never told me that.”
Tess sighs, but it is not her usual irritated sigh. Tonight, her sigh sounds sympathetic and thoughtful. “It protects the balance. The longer we are here, the more influence we have on this time. If we try to return after influencing this time for too long, we can throw the newly-created paths off balance. And imbalance is the breeding ground for evil. It’s part of what created this mess in the first place.”
“How so?” I ask.
Tess looks to William, then back to me. “You can’t get all the answers you want in one night, or we’ll never finish. You need to focus. Tonight will bring you one step closer to your daughter. Just keep that in mind.”
Closer? What does that even mean? Days? Years?
As much as they try to pacify me—to tell me not to worry—it is impossible. Part of me doesn’t want to believe them, but as much as my heart begs for a reason to distrust them, my soul knows everything they have told me is true.
There’s nothing I can do now. My ancestors are among these people; if they are killed, I will not exist.
Anna will not exist.
New determination takes root, and anger burns toward the Morts for giving me false hope with their illusions. I take the wind chimes William has given me and tie them around my waist, making a thin rope belt that clinks when I move.
Yes, this is war.
Morts weave through shadows, creep across the horizon, and crowd together at the edge of the forest. I will kill them and anyone else who stands in my way.
I exhale through my noise and tilt my face slightly toward William. “Just tell me how this works.”
“First step is learning defense,” Tess says. “Watch.”
She runs to the far side of the field and spins before kneeling to the ground. The wind chimes in her hair draw a Mort from between the trees. Tess stays still as the Mort approaches her. Panic rises in my chest.
“What’s she doing?” I ask William. “Is she hurt?”
“Shhh,” he says. “Watch.”
My whole body is shaking. The Mort isn’t more than a foot away from her, and she hasn’t done anything. His sights are set on her.
“The chimes call them out,” he whispers, “but they are afraid of us. They won’t stay long once they see us.”
As though to illustrate William’s point, the Mort turns quickly. He glances in every direction. He backs away, looking everywhere, then turns and runs back into the shadows between the trees.
Tess stands and walks back over to us.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She laughs. “Of course.”
“What happened? Why did he just walk away?”
“He saw you and William.”
“But not you?” I ask.
“Our wings can shield us—make us invisible to them. It helps when outnumbered by the Morts. They don’t fear us as much then. It can also be used to trick them into coming closer.”
“But our wings aren’t visible at night,” I say.
“Exactly.” Tess’ grin is so wide it brightens her whole face, and I think how I like her better this way. “While others cannot see our wings at night, what they offer us against the Morts is something greater. They cannot see what our wings protect. You have to learn to feel them and be one with them.”
William’s hand comes to my elbow. “But they won’t cloak you from anyone but the Morts. So be careful with it. And you’ll have to get a better sense of your wings before you’ll be able to accomplish this effectively. There’s a learning curve—you won’t know if you’ve done it wrong until it’s too late.”
“So perhaps it’s more important you teach me to fight.”
“Of course,” William says.
He steps behind me, his stomach pressing against the top of my back, reminding me how unbelievably tall he is. If he were anyone else, I would feel vulnerable with him so close. But it’s different with William. With William, I just feel...safe.
He sweeps my hair over my shoulder, and it spills in a river of red past my right breast. My center of balance falters, and I sway a little, but he holds me up.
“Easy, there, Mimosa,” he says.
“Mimosa?”
He chuckles. “You smell like the yellow flowers of a silk tree.”
I hope that’s a good thing, though I shouldn’t care one way or another. I’m not here for handsome men to tell me I smell nice.
“I’m just nervous,” I admit.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
And I know it’s true. I hold my breath as he rests his hand on my shoulder and his other hand grazes my side as it comes around my body to rest on my stomach.
“God, your shoulders are tense. The Morts are going to smell the fear on you before you get anywhere near them if you don’t get it under control.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Fear isn’t exactly a choice.”
“Sure it is,” he says. Then he leans in closer to my ear and whispers, “Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, swallowing around the lump in my throat, hoping my trembling is not so obvious to
him as it is to me. Uneven and shaky breaths tumble past my lips.
“Relax. Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” I mumble.
“Focus on what is. There is nothing else.” His breath is warm on my ear, the feel of his deep voice reaching down to my stomach where his hand rests. “Here,” he says, pressing a little firmer, effectively pulling my body closer to his. “This is your energy. When you find the Mort, you will feel everything here.”
I think he is trying to help me calm down, but his body so close to mine does anything but. I open my eyes and look down at his hand, noticing for the first time the scars across his knuckles and wondering where he got them. His hands seem so large resting on my stomach.
“Feel what?” I ask. Surely he isn’t referencing the desire spreading through my body, this odd attraction I feel whenever he stands too close. But at the same time, it’s an uncomfortable feeling—a feeling I’m not ready for.
“You will know what to do,” he says.
“How will I know when I know?” I ask. “How will I know what to look for?”
His thumb caresses my abdomen. “You’ll know.”
Tess lets out an irritated huff. “I think she gets the point, William.”
The moment I turn toward her, she flicks her gaze skywards, arms crossed. I look to William, hoping his response will decode her reaction.
He steps back, his expression darkened. “She didn’t come to me with the training you did.”
“Oh, that’s part of the training now?” She smirks. “The person who trained me before you must not have gotten notice. You realize we only have five hours until sunrise, and more than five hours of work to do.”
I furrow my brow. “Why does it matter how much we do?”
Tess closes her eyes. “We need to move the spirits faster than they repopulate, or we’ll never finish.”
Never finish . . .
Her words halt me at my core. I need to get back to Anna. I can’t be trapped here forever.
“How long have you been here?” I ask her.
“Nearly two decades.”
My hope deflates. If there was a way back, wouldn’t someone have found it by now?
“There will always be more elementals dying, more Morts entering this space.” I slouch where I stand. “We’ll never get rid of them, will we?”
Tess’ expression is cold and unmoving. “Not if we stand around talking all night.”
My eyes implore her for something more than a catty remark, and, for a moment, her expression softens.
“We do what we can.” She points to my scrawny arms and adds, “Let’s just hope you’re stronger than you look.”
I have to admit, she is far more muscular than I am.
Then, just as fast as her compassion has come, it’s gone. Her face grows serious. “Time to work.”
January 1692
Tess tells me to run. Run, and think about where I want to be. That’s how I got here. That’s how I get where I’m going.
But it’s not how I got here. I never wanted to be here. I just wanted to be with Anna.
“Run, now! Go, go, go! This is it!”
I know Tess means for me to run toward the Morts, but I try running back to Anna. I don’t know where that is—I can’t picture the place—but I keep running, feet pushing off the ground, thighs burning, weeds thwapping my shins. I run until my belly gets the feeling of being suspended in air. I run until I burst through the forest and into this same field. Again and again.
On one of my passes across the field, I see my old room. I see the peeling paisley wallpaper and the dull yellow headboard and my threadbare quilt and Mama brushing my hair. I push myself hard, want it with every fiber of my being. But still I pop out on the wrong side.
This side.
Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades, my lungs burn desperately for oxygen, and my damp, apple-red hair sticks to my scalp. The sweat keeps me cool and makes me feel alive. Alive, but weak. I thought being Ankou was supposed to make me stronger? How can it be that I have more power now but feel just as powerless as before?
I’m meant to save humanity, but it’s humanity who endangers my daughter while I am trapped here, unable to protect her.
Panting hard, I turn back to look in the direction of the open field I just ran through. I’d run straight across, from the north end to the south, and popped right out the north end again. A loop.
“Stop,” Tess says. “That’s not going to work. We don’t have time for this.”
“Why”—I suck in a breath—“not?”
Tess tugs at her earlobe. “I don’t get you, Cord. You knew your daughter for what—all of an hour? Why do you care so much?”
Her words struck a nerve. I loved Anna before I ever even met her, even more so when I first laid eyes on her. But I couldn’t expect Tess to understand that. “What more reason do I need than that she is my child? Any mother would do the same.”
Tess’ arms tightened across her chest. “Yeah. So they say.”
Maybe she was right. Mama had given up on me. But that was different. “Most mothers, then,” I added. “Most mothers love their child instantly and intensely.”
“Must be nice,” Tess mumbles. “But it’s still selfish of you. If you leave, what will happen to Verity? Or do you not care anymore?”
If Verity knew, I’m certain she would rather I save my daughter, but that’s not to say I don’t care about the woman.
“I don’t understand why you need me anyway,” I spit back. “I’m just getting in your way. You could get more done if you weren’t busy training me. You can handle the Morts without me. The Universe could find someone else to help you. There—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Tess says sharply. “If you don’t focus, you’re going to put us all in danger. That means no future for you or your daughter.”
I rock back, my head spinning and my breaths bursting, finally understanding this situation. This isn’t a way back to Anna. It’s the only way back to her. If I return now, there will be no Anna to return to.
William trots over. He’s been running all night, too, but his runs have been more productive than mine; he’s taken at least a dozen Morts by surprise. His shirt, soaked in sweat, is thrown over one of his strong shoulders. His body is perfect—lean, firm, smooth skin...
His beauty is terrifying.
I can’t make sense of my feelings, of how attracted I am to him and yet how uncomfortable seeing him makes me feel. Staring at him makes me wonder if the golden sheen of my skin in the moonlight is as stunning as his or as elegant as Tess’, or if, to them, I’m just another person. To them, has the terrifying beauty of the Ankou lost its magic? I could never have dreamed of something so stunning. It’s walking, living, breathing art.
William places his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not just about where you want to be. It can be about where you don’t want to be. Wishing you were anywhere but where you were.”
Offended, I pull away. “I did not wish to be taken away from family. I am not you.”
I don’t know if I’ve insinuated accurately, but I must believe I have. His eyes search mine, and I know there is a hurt there, a hurt his expression cannot hide, though his anger is building around his jaw line. He’s keeping something from me. Hiding something.
“Am I wrong?” I ask. I can’t control myself. All my pent-up hurt throttles straight at him, as though he is to blame for all of this. Perhaps he is. “Maybe you just don’t care if we get back because you’re already stuck here! Come on, William, tell me—how long have you been here?”
“What does it matter?” he shoots back. “Not everyone wants to run away from the opportunity to help others. Maybe some of us want to stay here. Belong here.”
I shrug, wishing I could just erase the entire conversation. I hate him and admire him at the same time. I force my mask of anger to stay frozen in an attempt to seem unaffected by his anger.
“We have a plan, Cord,” William says. “And
you need to honor it.”
“I understand—”
“Do you?” He narrows his eyes. “Because I’m starting to wonder if you’re capable of having a plan, or if you are completely run by your impatience, impulsivity, and selfishness. You’re all over the map, and we can’t afford for you to get us killed!”
For William, life is about saving Salem. For me, it’s about saving my daughter. One singular person in a sea of many. Perhaps that does make me selfish. Or perhaps it just makes me human. I don’t expect him to understand that.
I hate when William’s mad. Tess’ anger I can handle—she’s always angry, even when she’s not. But when William’s upset, I start to think it’s my fault.
Tears blur my vision, and I hate that I’m crying, that my weakness is so apparent. “I didn’t ask to be brought here! Stop blaming me! Blame your god or whoever created this mess!”
“Yeah, well, it does make me wonder.” He shakes his head and sighs. “You are capable, you know. You were chosen for a reason, even if none of us can see it yet.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. “I think.”
“I know it’s difficult, Cord, but try to focus,” William says. He’s softened now, and I wonder if it’s because he feels bad or just finds me too pathetic to scold anymore. “We’ll try it again, all right? Focus on the Mort and run, thinking of them, until you lock.”
“Fine,” I say, residual anger still bubbling in my gut.
Tess has already moved three Morts and, while William was talking, locked onto a fourth. I spin away from him and take off.
“Fine,” I say again, under my breath. “Fine, fine, fine.”
But my frustration and fear don’t make me want to fight harder as much as they make me want to find a way around this situation. I can’t risk getting stuck here. I need to get back to Anna. Now.
I break through space—through time and distance, through the blur of grays and blacks and green—and collide into one of the Morts, knocking him down onto the crisp grass. His face is inhuman; his nose more of snout. Had he been a Strigoi once?
My abdomen tingles, and the energy rushes through my body and out my fingertips. I dig my nails into his head as I’ve seen Tess do. My fingers go cold, but he steps away. He pauses, his grin like a jack-o-lantern before he runs off.
COME, THE DARK: (Forever Girl Series Book Two) Page 8