God—Emmanuel. Save me. I will do whatever you ask. But please please please save me….
My skin radiates with heat. My face burns—my lungs burn—everything burns. My heartbeat pulses in my fingertips, and I inhale the stink of gasoline. Smoke fills up my lungs. I cough until my chest hurts, and my coughs choke into labored breathing, and I’m gasping, my body clawing for any particle of oxygen.
And I try—I try to inhale—but I can’t—even—breathe—
Consciousness is slipping away. And a familiar tune takes its place. Music plays from somewhere faraway, and yet, right here, inside my mind. Familiar and achingly haunting. And I try to place the words until they finally come to me like a distant echo.
O come, O come, Emmanuel…
Another cough. My lungs. They burn. But the song won’t stop.
…Disperse the gloomy clouds of night…
Black spots creep at the edge of my vision.
…And death’s dark shadows put to flight…
And then there’s nothing but rejoice rejoice rejoice rejoice and a faint ringing in my ears and the slow thud of my heartbeat until I surrender to complete silence.
Darkness.
And death.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
When I open my eyes, I am standing in the apple orchard, the sun casting coral hues across the fields and the trees almost glowing green. Long grass billows around my knees, shimmering in the light. The sun is so bright, so incredibly bright it makes my eyes hurt.
Someone walks toward me, wearing a cloak more radiant than the light behind him.
EMBER.
The strangely familiar euphoria fills me at the sound of his voice. And I’m elated. The very definition of joy overcomes me. Welcoming and love wrap around me until I don’t think I could ever feel more welcomed or loved anywhere.
This is what I’ve been looking for.
This resplendent Being in front of me is the One who’s been calling me, drawing me in all this time.
EMBER.
And I want him to say my name again and again and again. I want him to speak and never stop speaking. I want him to take me in his arms and never let go.
EMBER.
He’s standing right in front of me now, looking down at me with a gaze so piercing, I know he can see into my soul. I’m seized by the power of his presence. And I fall to my knees, because, standing in the glory of this…Being, it’s all I can do.
His hand rests on my shoulder, and everything I felt seconds ago––the joy, acceptance and love––magnifies. Ten. Thousand. Times.
EMBER.
Yes?
PREPARE THE WAY.
For what?
FOR MY PEOPLE.
People? What people? I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t remember where I came from. All I know is that beauty is all around me. Everywhere. Contentment fills me up like fresh water, flowing over the sides and spilling all around me.
I am in paradise.
OPEN YOUR EYES.
They’re opened.
OPEN YOUR EYES.
I try but it’s too hot. Heat. Heat everywhere. On my skin, my eyelids, my lungs. And then I’m falling. My arms automatically flail out to grasp anything to stop my fall, and then I land on my back on the hard ground. The air is knocked out of my lungs and my eyes fly open. The apple orchard has vanished. Everything is a gray blur instead of resplendent light. Forest Turner appears through the haze. He pulls me into his arms, his eyes wide.
“Ember!” I can barely hear him through the ringing in my ears. “Oh, Ember. I’m so sorry.” And his voice is raw and pained like he’s been crying, then he pulls me to his chest. The movement is too quick. The blood drains from my head too fast. Darkness invades my vision.
And again.
There’s nothing.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
No dream this time. A soft voice draws me out of darkness. My face hurts. My leg throbs. Too painful to breathe. I blink my eyes open to find Forest looking at me. Behind him, bright fluorescent lights blind me and I blink my eyes closed.
“Can you hear me?” he says.
I nod. Something’s covering my mouth. I reach up to smack it off, but Forest stops me.
“It’s a medicated mask. Your lungs were singed from the heat of the fire. It’s helping your lungs heal.”
The fire? Everything comes tumbling back into my memory like a nightmare, and I jolt up.
“Hey,” Forest says, covering my hand with his. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
I lay back down, my heart still pounding at the memory of my near-death experience.
But I didn’t die. I was taken to another place. A place of perfection and beauty. I want to go back. Why can’t I go back? Why have I been dragged back to this hellhole?
I peek at Forest. “What happened?” I croak.
“Turns out having you burned wasn’t exactly the popular thing to do.”
I cough. Inhale. The medication coming through the mask feels so soothing to my lungs.
“Also,” he says. “Rain—”
“That arrogant son of a jackal—”
“—had proof of your innocence.”
I blink. I don’t—I don’t understand.
“He turned me in…” I wheeze. “And now…he…helped me?” What’s his shoddy deal?
Forest nods.
“And Titus…listened to him?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “And Titus pardoned you, Ember. Because everyone wants you alive. He’s allowing you to go home.”
All his words jumble in my head, and I struggle to piece them together. “I’ll believe it…when I’m home.”
“I think he means it this time. I mean, he placed you here, in the most renowned hospital in Ky, receiving the best medical treatment imaginable. Your leg’s already mostly healed. And soon your lungs will be as good as new.”
“What about my family?” I rasp, looking at him. “Did he—”
“They’re fine. Titus didn’t touch them. They’re still at the orchard, waiting for your return.” His smile lifts every single doubt from my mind. Tears prick my eyes, and I collapse on the bed. He combs his fingers through my hair. “You’re free of guilt. Your records have been wiped clean. This time, Ember, I’m really going to take you home.”
Home. The thought should calm me. I should be excited. But, even if I did go home…will anything ever be the same?
Though he betrayed me, Rain’s words still echo in my mind: Will you ever really be free? After all you’ve seen here, will anything be the same?
And then the vision comes back to me with full force. The love I felt. The Being beaming brighter than the sun, telling me to set his people free. Was any of that real? It had to be. The Presence…I felt it.
“What’s wrong, Ember?” Forest takes my hand in his and squeezes.
“Nothing. I just…had a weird…dream.” Forest wouldn’t understand. He would say it was the life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing. But I’d never felt more alive than I did when I was dying. I’d never experienced so much beauty. So much acceptance. So much…love.
PREPARE THE WAY.
For what? His people, He said. But how? My stomach tightens at the uncertainty, the command to do something I don’t fully understand. But right now all I can think about is going home.
Although I’m not as happy about going home as I should be. Honestly, I feel robbed. I feel like I was just tortured for Titus’s amusement. Like maybe he’s just letting me go now because he thinks I learned my lesson. He thinks he put me in my place, and I’ll never ever challenge him again because look what happens when you challenge the chief.
He burned me to claim his place as Alpha.
But I almost died today. No thanks to Titus. No thanks to Rain. But, hey. I’ll go home. I’ll pretend like everything is fine, like I didn’t just almost lose my life at the hands of my psychotic brother. I’ll pretend…until I have the perfect opportunity to strike.
***
Again.
We pass through the cupola.
Again.
We drive across the Outer Ring.
Again.
I’m failing to feel as excited as I have the past two times I almost went home.
Surprisingly, no Defenders stop us this time. I glance at the Rebels Circle, the place where I was supposed to die. And I have the sudden urge to throw up. I turn away and shove down this terrifying, sick feeling invading the pit of my stomach.
“So…what did Rain tell Titus that helped earn my freedom?” I ask Forest.
“He somehow found the footage from your apartment before the cameras blew out.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what he did to make it look like Walker was never there. But whatever he showed Titus won the chief over.”
How the shoddy inferno did he manage that?
“Whose side, exactly, is Rain on?”
“His own,” Forests says. “Rain is always out to promote himself. He tried to suck up to the chief by turning you in. When that didn’t sit too well with the majority of Frankfort, he saved your neck.”
“Son of a jackal.”
“I know—I know you must hate him now, but just know you kind of owe him a big thanks.”
I choke out a laugh. “I’ll never thank him. And please don’t ever try to settle things between us.” I look at Forest, dead serious. “I’m afraid if I ever see Rain again, I’ll rip his esophagus out with my bare hands. It’s because of Rain I almost died.”
“It’s because of him you’re still alive.”
Of course. Of course it is. Rain took me to prison. Then he rescued me from prison. Rain betrayed me to Titus. Then he rescued me from the Rebels Circle. It seems he enjoys using my life as a means to gain more popularity among the Patricians.
Ugh. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about Rain. And I don’t want to feel sick. I’m going home and I should feel pleasantly excited. So I force all thoughts of Rain out of my head. And I look out the front window at the snow-laden city of Ky.
The vehicle whirs down the interstate for a few minutes, much faster than the prison bus that brought me here, then takes a few turns down alleyways toward the Community Garden. When we arrive, the gates creak open, and we slowly drive down the gravel road through the fields. All bitter thoughts dissipate like the morning dew at sunrise, and my heart floods with warmth at the sight of my home.
A fresh blanket of snow covers the ground. Field hands wearing heavy winter clothes walk down the road. Some look at my vehicle as it passes by and tip their hats in respect. I wonder why until I remember the windows are tinted. They think a politician rides in the vehicle instead of one of their own. Well, I guess a politician is riding in here. We drive through the square, then take a turn down the road that I walked every evening to drop our rations off. The road Leaf and I raced on our last day together. This is where I belong. And my eyes are burning with the overwhelming sense of homecoming.
Gravel pops beneath the wheels of the car, and I squint ahead. I want to see the apple orchard as we near the place that has consumed my memories and dreams and paintings the past weeks. Workers are still out, pruning the trees. One of them leaps off his ladder and stares at the car, then takes off running toward the cabin. And my heart takes a violent leap.
Elijah.
It’s real. I’m here. I’m really home. We pull into the driveway, and I take in the view of our cabin, smoke curling out of the chimney just like I remember. I may not have been gone for long, but it seems like a lifetime. When I open the door, Elijah races toward me waving his arms.
“Ember!” He throws himself into my arms, practically knocking me over.
“Hey, easy kid.” I wrap my arms around him, tears spilling freely down my face. I laugh and squeeze him so tight, I don’t think I’ll ever let him go. I dig my fingers into his shaggy hair, inhale deeply the wild, free scent of my little brother.
Dad emerges from the cabin and stares at me like he’s seeing a ghost. “Ember,” he chokes out. He stumbles toward me and crushes me to his chest. I wrap my arms around his frail form, feel the outline of his ribcage and think about how we’ll never go hungry again.
I’m vaguely aware of Forest approaching, placing his hand on the small of my back. And a strange warmth fills me. I pull away from Dad and wipe the tears off my cheeks with the heel of my hand.
“Dad, Elijah, this is Fore––Congressman Turner.”
“You can call me Forest.” He extends his hand to my dad.
I’m almost afraid Dad won’t take it, considering how little he thinks of congress, but to my relief, his hand envelops Forest’s.
“Hello,” Dad says. He looks at me. “I’m so happy you returned.” He wipes a tear off his face. “But I didn’t realize a Congressman would escort you.”
I laugh. “A lot has happened, Dad. But in the midst of all the chaos and confusion, Forest has been the one constant.” I swallow hard, still shaken from what happened yesterday. “He’s always been there for me. He’s always been on my side.”
“Well,” Dad says. “Anyone who’s a friend of my daughter’s is welcome in my house.” He gestures toward Forest. “Please, come in.” He turns and leads the way to the cabin. A frigid wind sweeps in from the east as we head toward the cabin.
Elijah slips his arm around my waist.
“You got a little meat on you while you were away,” he says.
My mouth drops open and I jab him in the side. “I wasn’t even gone two weeks. Besides, you’ll get a bit meaty too. Just wait and see, little squirrel.”
“Ew. No. Just because you’re back does NOT mean you can call me that.”
I laugh and tussle his hair. Forest’s hand finds mine, and the warmth spreads throughout my entire body, pooling in the pit of my stomach. When I look at him, his blue eyes are almost glowing with a joy I haven’t seen in them since the day I was rescued from the prison pit, and I can’t fight down my own happiness. Now that I’m home, I can finally let it out. Joy is a wellspring of hope pumping through my veins and my spirit, and I know I made the right choice coming home instead of fighting the chief.
At least for now.
At least until I come up with some plan to take down Titus.
One glance at my beloved orchard, wiry trees and dead ground covered with a fresh layer of snow, and Rain’s words trickle into my head: You are the Garden, God is the Sower.
My mood darkens, that he can still influence my thoughts, even when he’s not around. Even when he’s a traitor. I’ll never trust Rain again.
And I’ll never trust Titus Whitcomb, either. The hatred in his eyes just two days ago tells me he has more of a personal vendetta against me than me just being some possible rebel. This has something to do with us being related. It has something to do with his fear of me challenging him, despite the fact that I have zero interest in doing so.
But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is too short to worry worry worry all the time. Titus is all powerful and there’s not much I can do except play the role of a good girl until my moment to strike at him for all the cruel things he’s done arrives.
The only thing that matters right now, in this very moment, is that I’m home. My family is alive. And Forest Turner cares for me. With one arm wrapped around Elijah’s shoulders and the other linked through Forest’s elbow, we walk up the steps and enter our cabin that has always been filled with warmth, laughter, and most important of all, family.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Later, after sunset, Forest leaves for the hotel in the square, giving me time with my family. As much as I love having him here, I appreciate the gesture. I need some time alone with Dad and Elijah.
The fire is lit, the flames licking the air and radiating heat throughout our cabin. The music from Elijah’s harmonica fills the silence, and the smell of soup from dinner still lingers in the air. I unpack the
paints and canvases I brought from Frankfort and begin painting. I’m not sure what I’m painting yet, but cerulean is the color I select. Dark blue, like Forest’s eyes. His eyes that, just a few nights ago, were filled with torturous longing and frightening temptations. And that kiss we shared that night. The kiss that set loose ten thousand butterflies in my stomach that still refuse to fly away.
That kiss that only made me realize how attracted I am to him. It made me want more. And now he’s here, in the Community Garden. And he broke up with Olivia. And there might maybe be a future for us.
“Are you okay?”
I look up to find Dad staring at me like he can’t believe I’m actually home.
“Yes.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I clear my throat. “I mean, now that I’m home.”
“Do you want to…talk about it?”
I look back at my painting, the memories of prison and the black tigers and my near-death experience souring my sweet thoughts of Forest.
“Not really,” I mutter.
But memories of Frankfort take up camp in my mind. After Titus gloated about Charlie and Ilene’s deaths, then killed Leaf right in front of me, and then almost killed me, plus his threats about going after my family, I want to give Titus a taste of his own medicine. But…could I ever return to the golden city, even if it meant taking Titus down? Just the thought of returning to that nightmare makes my stomach hollow. Is it even possible to take Titus down if I’m not working with Rain or the Resurgence? I turned them both down, and now I have no idea how to get in contact with the Resurgence, and I don’t ever want to see, much less work with Rain again.
But what if…what if help could be found from across the river? Outside of Ky? I remember Walker mentioning something about the Indy Tribe, the people who gave him that tiny, quiet gun. Who are they, and would they be willing to help? And Jonah…he said something about possible survivors across the river. Hope grows in my chest like a well-watered plan, like a sapling finally willing to produce fruit.
PREPARE THE WAY.
Maybe this is what God meant. Maybe I’m not supposed to be the one to take down Titus or take on the role as a leader. Maybe I’m just supposed to prepare the way for those who are meant to do that, whether it means the Resurgence or the Indy Tribe.
black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1) Page 34