When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy)

by Forbes, Amber Skye

  The flame shrinks again. This draws my attention more than Sash’s threat does. “How did Claire die?” The flame is now a tiny point in the middle of Sash’s palm. Claire is his Malady.

  Sash screams and tries to hurl his fire at me. Nothing happens. “Shut up! Stop speaking her name.” He slams his foot in the dirt, sifting up a small dirt cloud that settles on his black boot. He seems smaller, weaker.

  I draw myself closer to Sash. “Claire must have been a beautiful girl. What did Claire look like?”

  Sash throws himself against me and pins me to the ground. He wraps his hands around my throat. His grip is weak, though, like he can’t draw even an ounce of strength that it would take him to end my life. “Stop! Just stop!” Pain radiates from his tone. “I will make your death so painful that your Shadowman life will be unbearable. Your only hope will be suicide.”

  Sash gives up on all semblance of being snarky and begins to sob. The pitiful cry of a Shadowman.

  “I won’t stop. You killed my brother.”

  Sash’s sobs heighten, his hands releasing my neck and his chest rising and falling with misery. His pain twists my heart, and I know then that my weakness is that I care too much. Every part of me is screaming to kill him, but his pain taps into my buried sympathy, and he becomes a helpless child instead of the murderous Shadowman I know he is.

  “You’re just a child,” I say, my tone unexpectedly soft. He seems to have forgotten what he wanted to do to me. “Just a child. You have had so many chances to redeem yourself, to let your soul heal, and instead you chose to make things worse.” I pull myself from beneath Sash, leaving him on his knees. His face is downcast.

  “I have no redemption for you, though.”

  For his own sake, Sash will be better off in nothingness. There will be no pain for him. No grief. No Claire. No Shadowmen. Nothing. I close my eyes and build the fire beneath my skin. Sash made my brother suffer, but this doesn’t mean I have to make him suffer. I will make his death painless and full of mercy.

  “At Cathedral Reims, I learned that forgiveness is the epitome of what it means to be human. But I can’t forgive someone who murdered a person so precious to me. I would have severed my limbs to grant my little brother happiness.”

  I bend down to Sash’s level, the hot fire ready to burst from my flesh. “I don’t know what happened in your life to make you this way. Though I will never forgive you, I implore you to forgive yourself. Whatever happened to Claire, I’m certain, was not your fault.”

  Sash’s sobs stop almost as suddenly as they had begun. The seething hatred returns to his eyes, and, quicker than the tail of a scorpion, he leaps atop me. The action sends the fire back beneath my skin, freezing it in the pads of my fingertips. His hands fly back around my neck, and this time, there is burgeoning strength in those sinewy muscles.

  He lets out a single laugh. “Forgiveness? The concept is foolish.”

  Under his tightening grip, my breaths come out short and painful. My limbs flail about as my fists try to make contact with his body. My strength is leaving me now, and my arms fall heavily to the ground. Tears fall involuntarily down my cheeks in hot streaks. Sash bends over and licks my cheek. My stomach lurches.

  “Such lovely tears. I wish every day for such a release. To mourn my losses.” He twists the skin of my neck, the taut muscles of his fingers digging into my throat. Then he pauses for a second to bend down to my ear and whisper. “My Malady is that I am forever heartbroken.”

  The sky above Sash appears calm, now, and Sash himself is beginning to fade into darkness. All feeling is gone from my body, and it is only in the last flicker of light that I notice the hands. Two large, burly hands are wrapped around Sash’s neck. They twist with sudden force, and Sash is lifted away from me in what seems like the same motion. His eyes have lost all their ferocity.

  With the pressure released, instinct inflates my chest with air.

  I can only feel sorry for him, his Malady pounding in my mind.

  Why would Deus grant Shadowmen with immense powers and then burden them with Maladies that can make using those powers difficult? Then again, why would Deus force cruel Exaltations upon them? Will they truly be free if they meet the terms of their Exaltations? I don’t know, but after seeing Sash’s suffering, the true enemy may not be the Shadowmen after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I killed Asch,” Theosodore tells me as he gathers himself and flexes his meaty fingers.

  He gives Sash’s crumpled body a swift kick, making me wince. Sash’s death saddens me. I know what this means for him. He will never exist again, in any life. There will never be another boy like him. Ever. He may have murdered my little brother, but I wish I knew what he was like in life. I wish I would have understood him more.

  No tears come for my little brother. There isn’t time to fall prey to heartbreak.

  I follow Theosodore as he walks away from Sash’s body, his stride uncertain.

  “How did you manage to take care of Asch?” I ask.

  “I stabbed him through the skull.” Theosodore’s jagged smile appears, twisting my stomach. “Oh, he took a few of my memories in the process, but I gained them back after I killed him.” The smile disappears. “What do you plan to do now? I still have business with the Shadowmen Alliance. I will kill every last one of them, even if it takes me all day.”

  I wince again. I have become sensitive to death, even for those who are supposed to be my enemies. They were humans once, who loved and hated, laughed and cried, just as the living do. I want to stop this. I don’t want anyone else to lose their lives. I’m certain Nathaniel would want the same. He took care with even the smallest of creatures, after all. He never had the heart to crush even a cockroach.

  Colette told me she believed I could talk Oliver out of this. Do I still have that chance?

  “I’m going to find Oliver,” I say.

  Theosodore sighs. “I suppose I can’t let you go alone. Mother Aurelia would do Deus knows what to me if she found out you were murdered under my watch.”

  “How generous of you,” I deadpan.

  “I say we follow the quakes.”

  I forgot about the rumbling. I haven’t been impaled yet, thank Deus.

  “What is he doing?” I ask.

  When we come upon the ruins of the shack, the scene before us answers my question. A maze of roots chokes the surrounding apartments, rising to the sky like giant beanstalks. To my horror, there are people speared on the ends, slick blood flowing down the roots. I heave what little I have in my stomach on the dirt. I look up at Theosodore. He clicks his tongue, his hardening eyes taking in the damage that Oliver’s fearsome powers have caused. He closes his eyes, then snaps them open.

  “We’ll head toward the main road. The quakes seem to be coming from that direction.”

  Theosodore leads me through the tiny alleys. As we cross each back road, I note the vines and roots that trap everything in a cage. Stragglers pick their way among the chaos, their faces glazed over with numbness. There are people strung among the pandemonium, their mouths open in dead screams, their heads dangling askance, and their eyes painted with the colors of death. And the Shadowmen Alliance will most likely spread their horrid rebellion all across Warbele until they have the entire country under their duress. I shudder to imagine what will happen from there.

  The final back road that leads right onto the main road bears a more grim reality than the ones farther back. Oliver’s nature doesn’t hold this road under siege. Instead the road is littered with crushed bodies. My knees weaken. I can’t hold myself up. I fall to the road, trying to suppress the scream and the tears that want to overtake my body. The witch burning crosses my mind. This is more than just an efficient way to kill witches. This rebellion started the day of the burning. Those witches were a mere example of what people’s hatred toward them does. Witches are out in the open now. People can no longer pretend witches are just monsters under the darkest of beds. What better wa
y to oppress the oppressors than through fear?

  “Are you done wallowing in pity?” Theosodore asks.

  I look up to find his hardened stare boring into me. “How can you not feel anything when you look at all of this?”

  “It’s my Malady.”

  “Some Malady,” I say, wiping the dust off my coat and standing.

  “I suppose I was just lucky.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, I trudge forward in anticipation of what the main road holds. From where I stand, enormous thick roots skewer the sky. Cathedral Reims appears untouched, its various turrets, spires, and towers devoid of plant life. It seems safe, for now.

  Theosodore squeezes into a narrow alley. Just as I follow behind, a voice crosses through my mind and stops me.

  Amelia, help.

  The voice is Colette’s. Malva disappears, replaced by a vision of a shack guarded by several Shadowmen. Inside the shack is Colette strapped to a chair, some unknown Shadowman speaking unheard words, and then beating her. The vision moves to the corner of the shack, revealing Gisbelle. What surprises me most, however, is not Colette’s sudden change of scenery from a vine cage to prisoner in a shack, but that Gisbelle is cradling my little brother. I suck in a hiss of air. He isn’t dead. He isn’t dead! There is light in his bright blue eyes. I could cry. I could scream. He is alive. Dear Colette, how could I ever have doubted you?

  Colette’s voice enters my thoughts again. On the last road. You’ll see the shack.

  The vision disappears, Malva appearing around me. Theosodore has a firm grip on my shoulder. I shrug his hand off.

  “That was Colette,” I say. “She and Nathaniel are being held hostage.”

  “So the boy isn’t dead.” Theosodore groans. “Oliver will have to wait, I suppose. I can’t have you getting killed on my watch.”

  We hasten through the narrow alleys, fly across the root-choked roads, and find the shack Colette showed me. It is at the end of the last road, right on the point of the endless field soaked in snow. Just as the vision showed me, two Shadowmen guard the entrance, a flimsy door that could be blown down by a single breath. I start forward. Theosodore blocks my advance with a hand.

  “I know you can control your fire, but let me assess the situation first. Some Shadowmen are far weaker than others, and I can sense that these are. They’ll be easy to manipulate.”

  The more I learn about Shadowmen, the more mysterious their world becomes. “Your power isn’t effective against every Shadowman?”

  “The stronger the mind and will, the harder I have to work, or else Asch would have been easy to do away with.”

  I stay hidden in the narrow alley behind a pile of wood, keeping myself discreet as I peer at Theosodore. He approaches the Shadowmen. Once they see him, they start up. For a moment I think a battle is going to ensue, until Theosodore flips his wrist and the Shadowmen walk away as if their shifts are done. They cross my path, distant looks on their bone-pale faces.

  Theosodore gestures to me with a crook of his finger. “Now stay behind me,” he whispers. “There are a few Shadowmen inside. They’re not as weak as those. Try to avoid confrontation, if at all possible. We will fetch Nathaniel and Colette and leave. We’ll determine what to do from there, but our next objective has to be Oliver.”

  The increased frequency of the quakes shows that Theosodore is right. There can be no more detours.

  Theosodore presses his side against the door and peers through a crack. He nods once, then kicks the door down, drawing a gasp from someone, followed by a terse, “Kill him!” The voice belongs to Gisbelle.

  There are only two other Shadowmen besides Gisbelle and Colette, and from the blasé look on Theosodore’s face, he isn’t concerned about his ability to defend me. He nods toward Gisbelle, and I race out behind him, prepared to defend myself.

  Gisbelle screams a “Get out of here, you bitch!” but she doesn’t do anything beyond that, not with Nathaniel cradled in her arms, so I decide to take care of Colette first.

  Colette is not only tied to a collapsed bed, but also gagged. I have to undo the ropes first with a thick shard of glass, and then cut the gag to release her.

  “Amelia!” She throws her arms around me, and for a moment I can ignore the smell of death on her and imagine that she smells like clover. She pulls away, her demeanor growing grave. She looks at Gisbelle. “We have to get Nathaniel and run. Gisbelle herself isn’t very powerful, but--”

  “But what?”

  “I think you can assume what her powers are. Human men find her hard to resist. She will use them as shields should she have to.”

  “But there aren’t any around.”

  “That doesn’t matter. She has bound several to herself, and they’ll come when she calls. We can’t allow any more people to be harmed.”

  Outside, Theosodore fights the other Shadowmen. They’re stronger than the two that guarded that shack. His brow is furrowed in concentration.

  Breathing in, I allow Colette to lead me over to Gisbelle, who sits crouched in a corner on a pile of dirty blankets. She cradles Nathaniel as if he is her son. He looks at me with a tear-streaked face, his lips pursed.

  “Get away from us!” Her features are akin to the features of a lioness mother. She rocks Nathaniel, shushes him, and says, “I’ll take care of you, you sweet creature. Those girls won’t hurt you. I won’t let the Shadowmen hurt you.”

  Her arm crosses a streak of sunlight that drapes across the dirt flooring. It is burned, her black sleeve tattered. “You saved him, didn’t you?” I ask.

  Gisbelle narrows her eyes. “No thanks to you. You wretched excuse for a sister.” Nathaniel whimpers. Gisbelle coos, stroking his hair with her slim, white fingers. Her eyes are soft. “There, there, dear boy. She won’t hurt you.” Rage simmers away the gentleness as she looks back at Colette and I. “How could you be so careless? They were going to kill this child. He would have suffered!”

  Colette steps back, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. “I don’t understand.”

  “You wouldn’t, you traitor.”

  “I don’t understand because the Shadowmen want Nathaniel for the power he may potentially have as a Shadowman,” Colette continues. “Why are you so opposed to this?”

  Gisbelle looks to Nathaniel, then to Colette, then to me. Her eyes widen as her frown deepens. Is she fighting some internal monster? Colette closes her eyes and moves her lips. She’s channeling something to Gisbelle, a vision, or some sort of memory from the distant past. Gisbelle cries out, pushing Nathaniel’s face against her bosom.

  “You had a son,” Colette says, keeping her eyes closed. “Your husband died when he was an infant, so your son was the only thing you had. He was murdered at fifteen.” Colette relays Gisbelle’s past with unflinching detail. “Someone accused him of being a witch, though he wasn’t. Witches cannot beget other witches.” Now that is something I did not know. I suppose Deus has some mercy. “The priests were trying to draw the fire out of him. They tied him up and threw him in a lake. He sunk and never rose.”

  Gisbelle shrieks. “Shut up! Shut up! You wretched bitch! You conniving tramp!”

  Nathaniel’s whimper heightens, and Gisbelle’s tone changes. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean you. You’re safe.”

  Colette snaps her eyes open. “Her need to mother is her Malady.”

  “And she’s using Nathaniel to replace her son,” I say.

  Colette nods. “I’ll try to distract her so you can get Nathaniel. Once you get him, you need to run. Take him back to Cathedral Reims. I think he’ll be safest there until all of this passes over.”

  So much for not wanting to take another detour. “All right.”

  Colette closes her eyes again and makes another connection with Gisbelle. With Gisbelle’s Malady, I doubt she will be able to connect to her marked men any time soon.

  Maladies. What wretched things.

  Colette starts speaking while I draw upon Gisbelle. “No one ever knew you were a witch.
You committed suicide after viewing your son’s bloated body as they pulled him from the lake.” Gisbelle screams again, digging her fingers in Nathaniel’s thin arms. Nathaniel cries out in pain. All I have to do is get her to release him, and I can grab him, and we can run. “His name was Tobias. You shortly drowned yourself thereafter. They never retrieved your body. You turned into a Shadowman and were found by Asch.”

  Gisbelle shakes Nathaniel around as she cries, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Nathaniel whines more, and for a brief moment Gisbelle wants to soothe him. Colette’s connection, however, seems too strong.

  “Asch is dead, Gisbelle. I cannot connect to him.”

  Screaming, Gisbelle lets Nathaniel go, the connection to her Malady gone, and flies out at Colette, all sharp nails and snarls and wild eyes. Nathaniel prevents himself from falling by leaping away and landing on his hands and the tips of his toes. I pull Nathaniel up, allowing him no time to process the situation.

  “We have to go, Nat, now!” I grip his wrist and run out of the shack. I don’t see Theosodore or the other Shadowmen, but what I find is even worse.

  True to what Colette told me, Gisbelle has called upon her marked men, and they barricade any chance I have of escaping to Cathedral Reims.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They’re all ordinary men: fishermen, fruit sellers, store clerks, accountants, and perhaps a pastor or two. Their eyes are glassy, their bodies tall and strong as they press together to form an impenetrable barrier. They don’t appear hostile, but they are the oppressors the Shadowmen want to get rid of.

  Nathaniel sniffles. I squeeze his hand, and the men press in on us, forming a circle that we’re trapped in the middle of. I don’t want to harm these men. I may have to, but I’m not certain how I can do this without killing a single one. They’re too close together, getting too near to us.

  That feeling of wanting to collapse and give up creeps back into me, but as my little brother presses himself against me, defeat is not an option. Nathaniel is alive, not dead like Asch and Sash claimed. I have to fight with every last cell in my body to keep him alive. Nathaniel did not choose this life, did not choose to be caught up in something I could have prevented so long ago.