When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy)

by Forbes, Amber Skye

  Theosodore sighs. “That may be true, but even if I wanted to, I can’t. Mr. Cromwell has already claimed you as his Exaltation, so for me to take your purity would do absolutely nothing. I must choose another. I didn’t know that at the time.”

  The mention of Oliver in such a callous manner sends a burst of anger through me that I thought would be impossible for me to muster. “Oliver has not laid claim to any part of me. I will not let him.” At least that is one thing I will not let happen to me. He has hurt me beyond repair, and to give in to the cruel demands of someone I still love would completely undo me.

  Now Theosodore’s jagged smile decides to make itself known. “You don’t have a choice in this matter, Miss Amelia. An Exaltation is not a mere concept, but practical divine intervention. Once Oliver fell in love with you, you were branded. It isn’t a mark you can see, and you will never be freed unless Oliver falls out of love with you, kills you, or dies. Then you will free yourself to be some other Shadowman’s fair game. For now, you are his.”

  Nausea sweeps me off my feet, forcing me to my knees to hold every screaming part of me together. Before knowing who Oliver was, this would have been a romantic concept, knowing that I am invariably tied to him so long as he is in love with me. I would have seen the idea as a form of marriage. Now it’s beyond frightening to know that as long as he is in love with me, I can never fully free myself from him. I pull myself up, indifferent to the ice soaking through my stockings.

  “Is there more to this?” I ask.

  Theosodore’s smile widens. “Oh, yes. Because you are branded, Oliver will always know where you are.”

  Nausea threatens to push me over again, but I steady myself against the shack and pull in deep breaths of biting air to stem the anger that threatens to burst through my skin. He will always know where I am. Because of this, I’m surprised he hasn’t killed me yet. He has had so many opportunities to do so, but I won’t wonder on that now.

  I look at Theosodore with narrowed eyes. “Then if you’re not here to make me your Exaltation, then why are you bothering to help me find my little brother?”

  “I care not for your little brother,” he says. “But your little brother is an excuse to confront the Shadowmen Alliance myself.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “I’ve known what they were planning since Oliver took it upon himself to propose the idea of an uprising. I joined Cathedral Reims to keep an eye on him.”

  I dig my fingers in the splintered wood, deliberately piercing my skin to replace the anger with momentary pain. “Why didn’t you stop him then if you knew what he was up to? Why allow him to continue building this plan? Have you known this entire time about the Shadowmen around Cathedral Reims?” I think back to Sash and Asch and how they bolted when Theosodore came to Colette and I. “You could have done something.”

  “I didn’t know about the Shadowmen around Cathedral Reims. If I had known, I would have snapped their necks. I have a power many of them wouldn’t trifle with. Very few Shadowmen are so powerful that they are feared, as Shadowmen powers are often equal to one another. This is why they took your brother. They believe he’ll provide them with a power as special as mine.”

  I don’t even care to ask Theosodore to clarify his power. He made that clear when he attacked me in the library. “If you’re so powerful, why did you not stop Oliver?”

  Theosodore’s smile transforms into a rigid line. “Because I too once toyed with the idea of a rebellion for the longest time, even after I decided to keep Oliver in my sights. But now that’s changed because the stakes are much higher than the Shadowmen realize. They will only be punished in the end should they follow through with this.”

  “What are those stakes?”

  “Freedom.”

  I want to ask Theosodore how he knows that their freedom is in danger when they themselves don’t seem to, but an explosion rips the question apart, replacing any of my thoughts with an echoing ringing. A large plume of smoke rises in the sky, followed by bloodcurdling screams. The mixture of screaming and ringing divides my world into small pieces, hurtling my entire being into a state of confusion as I grasp what I should be doing. There are more explosions, more screams, and the explosions increase in intensity. Everything is in a haze.

  Theosodore grabs my arm and hauls me into the shack, shuttering square holes that pass as windows with slabs of metal he finds lying on the dirt floor. There is only a small space between two slats of wood that make up the makeshift door. I see snow and wood and stone through these slats, then black cloaks. A gasp threatens to free itself, until Theosodore clamps a hand over my mouth and drags me back behind a pile of rubble made of wood, stone, metal, and other materials.

  “Thank Deus Shadowmen powers like mine are rare,” Theosodore whispers. “Or else Malva would have been torn from the seams by now.”

  What if it already has been? Oliver can control nature. Oliver knows where I am. For all I know, a root could be making its way through the earth to strangle me, the way one almost strangled Colette.

  “We’ll wait this out. It’s too dangerous for you to be out there.”

  “The rebellion has begun, hasn’t it?”

  Theosodore says nothing, telling me everything I need to know. I pull away from him, curiosity compelling me back to the slats. Theosodore doesn’t stop me this time. “It’s even more hopeless now to find my brother. He’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

  “You don’t sound so desperate to save him,” Theosodore says.

  I scrabble back behind the pile of rubbish as more cloaks trail by. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and other smells I can’t distinguish. “I have to accept it, don’t I?”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know that he’s dead.”

  “Yes, I do. If Nathaniel’s power is as special as yours, they will want it.”

  Theosodore plants a hand on my shoulder. For a moment I think he’s going to dig his fingers in and shake me. He doesn’t. The gesture feels sympathetic. “You’re a fool for wanting to give up so easily. Where is the determination I saw in your eyes during the trials, that defiance when I fetched you for Mother Aurelia? You had so much life in you, and now you seem to be content with despair.”

  I throw his hand off me, my nerves igniting with a spark of anger. “I am a fool, I’ll admit that. I’m a fool for continually hoping anything could change. And why do you seem to care so much, you who enjoys abusing sisters for breaking rules, for partaking in everything that is wrong with Cathedral Reims?” I find my voice rising, but with the screams and explosions outside, I am not concerned with being heard. “You were even willing to rape me, to forever hurt me so you could end your own pain!”

  Theosodore doesn’t react in rage. He smiles. “And you were willing to give yourself up to me, so you have no reason to be angry over my past actions.” He crosses his arms to put on intimidating airs that have no effect on me. “If there is so much wrong with Cathedral Reims, then perhaps you should have never considered joining. I care because I want to stop this. I care because I know what Deus wants, and they do not. But if you cannot bother to care, then I will leave you here as deadweight and Shadowmen fodder.”

  The anger threatens to tear me apart. In fact, my fury is so heightened that I can feel the fire moving beneath my skin. I want to slice that jesting smile off Theosodore’s face. How can a man who claims to be so devoted to Deus participate in such cruelty? He flirts with girls young enough to be his daughters, and then beats them for some mild infraction. Theosodore is a contradiction, someone who possesses an equal amount of love and hate that he can use together as weapons whenever he feels like it. I have no doubt that was his strength in life, to hide who he is by couching his actions with honeyed words. Whoever he was in life, I’m certain he was the type of man to beat his wife while claiming to do so because he loves her. But what makes him different from other men who do the same is that he doesn’t seem like he would be angry in doing so. He seems
to enjoy torment.

  “You’re so sick,” I tell him.

  “You’re angry. You’re not completely gone.”

  I could hurt Theosodore. I could hurt him right now. I feel the fire in me, and it can hurt him. “I have every reason to be angry.”

  “You haven’t given up then.” He rises and pins me against one of the flimsy walls. “You know as well as I do that giving in is not one of your traits. You know as well as I do that you would do anything for Nathaniel.”

  These words should come out as a scream. Instead they come out soft, yet certain. “I don’t understand you.”

  “And you never will. Now why don’t you use some of that anger? It’s your shield, Amelia. Use it to protect yourself so we can find you brother. I have no doubt that whoever Nathaniel is with, he is with someone Oliver would hate to lose, someone so integral to this plan that a loss would be devastating.” He pulls away. “And I never help unless it benefits me, just as I never hurt unless it benefits me.”

  “You’re still so sick.”

  “Hold on to that anger. It’s working rather well for you.”

  Theosodore glides over to the slat and peers through. His shoulders tense. Before I find out why, an enormous blast shakes the foundation of the shack, and a wind torrent throws me behind the rubble and nearly rips my hair out of my skull. The roof of the shack caves in. I look behind me. The edge of the metal roof narrowly missed my spine. It rests slanted against the rubble. If the wind hadn’t thrown me behind the rubble pile, the roof would have landed on me instead of tucking me safely in a space between it and the debris.

  Two familiar Shadowmen stand before us, smiles planted on their too-human faces. “We’ve been looking all over for you, Amelia,” Sash says, stepping amongst the rubble.

  “Remember, Sash,” Asch says, “he doesn’t want her dead. Just subdued enough so that we can bring her to him.”

  Theosodore rises from the wreckage, rubbing his skull that has a purple lump from the roof. “Why doesn’t he fetch her himself? He knows where she’s at.”

  Asch laughs as he walks over to Theosodore and matches his height. “That he does. That he does. But Purgatory is too busy keeping this city under siege. He has no time to bother with Amelia until after everything is through.”

  Sash grabs me by my hair and hauls me up until I’m hovering above the dirt with bent knees and my face is at his level. There is no tension in his hand. “What are you doing out here? You should be tucked away safely, praying to Deus or some such other nonsense that you convent people do.”

  Asch laughs. “Probably to rescue her dear brother.” His demeanor darkens. “Oh, but he’s dead, don’t you know that? Burned alive during that first explosion. It won’t be long before he turns. And we can use him.”

  Sash inserts his final input before I scream. “It’s a shame he had to die in such agony, but he fought back…and lost.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Theosodore is right. My anger is my strength. The rage boils inside me, filling me with renewed energy. The feeling takes me back to the barn where Colette tried to teach me how to control my fire. I almost had a grasp on the tempting flames then. Now the feeling is back. I focus on it, drawing the anger down into the skin of my palm, letting it heat my skin until it’s almost unbearable. All I have to do is snap my fingers and--

  I raise my hand and shove it in Sash’s face. He screams and drops me onto the dirt. I scramble away, back toward Theosodore. The angry fire races beneath my skin, thirsting to be used again. I keep my attention on it, feeding my anger and channeling it into the heat.

  Sash’s screaming turns to heavy pants. He pulls his hand away from his face, revealing a raw and blistered palm print on his cheek. He grits his teeth, throwing a vicious glance at Asch.

  “Can we really not kill her, Asch?”

  Theosodore doesn’t wait for Asch to answer. “Amelia, take Sash. I’ll deal with Asch.”

  Asch laughs. “You really think she can handle him?”

  Theosdore replies with a cunning grin. “Amelia and he have the same powers.”

  “He has strength to back up that fire,” Asch says, his hand sliding down his cloak and removing a dagger. “So what are you going to do? Manipulate me to death? I told Purgatory we should have killed you before you waltzed away from the alliance. But he’s soft and thought he could trust you not to meddle.”

  “We were good friends before our lives were claimed in Shala,” Theosodore says. He circles Asch, whose eyes trail him.

  Asch matches Theosodore’s grin. “Oh, and what changed?”

  “Deus changed me.”

  Theosodore is a part of the past Oliver refused to tell me. Did they die at the same time, caught for the same reasons, killed in the same way? There is so much I don’t know about Oliver.

  I have no more time to think. Theosodore lunges at Asch, and the air around us seems to bend, putting pressure on my chest. Their movements are a blur, leaving only one other person in the room to look at. Sash. I turn toward him, and he smirks despite his blistered face.

  “Thinking about your precious Oliver?” Sash says. “Or are you thinking about who killed your brother?”

  “You bastard!” I run toward Sash, a stream of fire flying from my hand. But he has already leapt aside. He’s so fast. “Were you the one who killed him?”

  Sash’s cool voice rises behind me. “I didn’t kill him alone.”

  I whirl around, growling as I slash the air with more fire. But my blast meets Sash’s own fire. Our two streams of fire and heat collide, the pressure of his pressing against me like a waterfall. I can feel the muscles rippling beneath his skin as though they’re a part of his fire. He’s too strong for me. Almost as soon as I realize I can’t win, I am thrown back by the force.

  I want to cry for Theosodore’s help, but he’s too busy dealing with Asch. For a brief moment, I can see his face. He looks disoriented, like he’s forgotten where he is.

  There is no choice but to run. I give up all semblance of defiance and bolt through the door and down the dirt road. I haven’t taken twenty steps before I can feel the warmth on my back that means Sash is close behind. I look over my shoulder just in time to see the stream of fire Sash has thrown. I dodge to one side and only scarcely get my head out of the way. The fire catches the tuft of hair at the end of my braid, freeing my hair so that it flies behind me in waves.

  Sash lets out a riotous laugh. He doesn’t even sound winded. “Do you want to know what we did to kill your brother?”

  I concentrate on the explosive sounds of fire to block out his voice. Even so, my anger is rekindled, and fire is boiling again beneath my skin. My blood is the butane and my actions are the spark. What did life do to Sash to make him this way?

  “Well, I’ll tell you anyway.”

  A cry of protest bubbles in my stomach and stagnates there. All I want to hear are the thumping of my chest and the slapping of my feet against the ground.

  “It was simple, so simple. He was locked in a metal shed, clawing and scratching like a caged rat. He’s a fierce little kid, I’ll give you that.”

  I don’t want to hear this I don’t want to hear this I don’t want to hear this.

  Sash’s voice distorts, along with everything else but the road underfoot. The shacks blur into the shadows of my mind. I cling to the strings of pain that rise through my legs and fill my lungs. They connect my feet with the road. With my escape. My only hope is to run longer than Sash is willing to follow. Chasing me is a game for him, but I feel certain Oliver needs him elsewhere. If I can only outlast him.

  A loud rumbling breaks through the shadows, hurling me back into the present. There is heat dangerously close, and I make a hard turn to dodge another ball of fire. After it passes I realize the rumbling is coming from below me, moving through the earth like thunder. And I can feel him searching for me. Oliver—no, Purgatory—must be tired of Sash’s game. He must be preparing to send roots through the ground to stop m
e, or impale me.

  I’m going to die not nailed to a cross, but to a vein that keeps the earth alive. I’m going to die with the story of my brother’s death on my mind. With that dark thought, my mind latches on to Sash’s sickening details.

  None of this matters, though. I will be joining Nathaniel shortly.

  “—and I combined my power with another Shadowman’s power to turn the shed into an oven.” He chortled as he spoke. “An oven with him inside. I wish I could have seen him at those last moments. But it got too hot, and the whole thing exploded. Nothing left to see, unfortunately.”

  With a scream in my throat, I stop mid-stride and turn to hurl a mass of fire at Sash that creates a wall of smog, obscuring our views. The earth still rumbles. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  I watch until the smoke clears, and Sash strolls easily forward. His smirk is plastered to his peeling face. Black blood seeps from fissures in his cheek, flowing down to his chin and dripping to the ground. I’m trembling, though my feet are planted firmly in the dirt.

  “Your brother is your weakness, isn’t he?” He stops only a few feet from me. “That would make for an interesting Malady. You’re quite good with your fire, too. Not as good as me, of course.” He peers into my eyes. “But fire wouldn’t be your power. It’s weak.”

  Fire hums in the palms of my hands. I want more than anything to press my hand into his face again. Something, however, keeps me pinned to the road.

  “I can’t figure it out,” Sash says. “I suppose Deus will judge that.”

  My tongue grows sharp. “And what is your Malady?” Even with so much rage inside me, I can’t help wanting to understand him. Wanting to understand why he is the way that he is. How he could kill sweet Nathaniel. “Is Claire your Malady? She’s dead, isn’t she? At least, I’ve heard you talk as if she’s dead.”

  A tiny flame appears in Sash’s palm, one whose sharp dance threatens to rip off my skin. “Don’t speak of her.” The flame shrinks. “Ever. If you mention that name again, I will kill you and leave your remains for the world to see. I won’t care what Oliver ordered me to do.”