“Why would I possibly care?”
“Because he’s the reason you died in the first place.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sleep avoided me. Lily was dead; it was my fault. The guilt boiled in my soul. I hadn’t even bothered to open my eyes when the floor creaked by my dresser. I was being watched – monitored. His smoky figure came into view. I simply waited for Jace to rescue me away from reality. He didn’t utter a word as he brushed my hair away from my face. My body warmed as he hummed the tune he had in my dreams. Captivated by his beauty, I almost didn’t see the shimmer of silver behind him. Marco rested his hand on Jace’s shoulder.
“You’ve come to liberate me in my dreams,” I said, reaching for Jace’s face. His coarse facial stubble scratched my palm. Neither he nor Marco moved – it was like they hadn’t expected me to still be awake. Jace tentatively intertwined his fingers around mine.
I wanted him in ways I wasn’t worthy of asking for. I needed him in ways I couldn’t imagine.
“I can’t fall for you,” I said as tears filled my eyes.
Jace shrugged Marco off his shoulder. He spoke soundlessly and then out loud I heard him say I was finally ready to listen. Marco lifted his hand from Jace’s shoulder, and then vanished.
Jace cupped my face. “Why can’t we have a future together?”
“Because, if I’m not her –”
My lungs tightened, but it wasn’t from me. Jace was holding his breath, stopping me midsentence like he couldn’t bear to hear what I had to say. If he refused to hear me, he could interpret my actions. Our past was a lie – it was nonexistent – it ruined any chance for us to have a future. I pushed him away.
“Gwyneth, look at me.” His body went rigid. “You need to stop running from the past and from who you are. Embrace it.”
I wanted to scream that we had no past, but the words refused to jump from my tongue. Tears streamed down my face. I was so utterly defeated. He let go of my face and walked away. I shoved my head into the pillow. I begged not to cry out until I could no longer hear his footsteps. My soul erupted; I deserved loneliness and a life of torment. My voice was raw from wailing into the pillow. The bed shifted. I stifled my tears only long enough to realize my foster parents could hear me screaming, but it wasn’t Martha or John in the bed beside me.
Jace slid his legs next to mine and then pulled me close next to him. Holding the covers tightly around me, he rocked me. He hummed the melody I’d grown to love – the one from my dreams. Just as quickly as the tune relaxed me, it enraged me. He shouldn’t be singing this song for me. I wasn’t the Chronicler. I wasn’t Deino. I was a fraud and a murderer! His ethereal voice echoed in the room and in my heart. I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love. I squirmed, trying to put distance between us. It didn’t work. I kicked him, wishing it would distract him. I beat my fists into his chest. I refused to stop until my arms ached.
“Leave! Leave me, Jace. I don’t want you in my life.”
“Liar,” Jace said, wrapping his arms around me so I couldn’t slam my fists against him. “You want me in your life, and I want you in mine. You’ve already made me scream your name to the heavens, begging for forgiveness and another chance to avenge your death. Don’t make me do it again.”
“What name would you scream this time? Deino or Gwyneth? What about the Chronic –”
“My beloved,” he whispered, silencing my insults.
Adoration radiated from his voice as he spoke those two small, yet powerful words.
“I screamed for my beloved to join me again when her body was no longer frail. I’d begged her to heal my broken soul along with hers. I’ve longed for the taste of her heart-stopping kiss after she was reborn. I crave the eternal passion of the goddess I fell in love with years ago – the very same goddess who now screams into the night, longing for an alternate ending to her tragic life; the night she died, I screamed one request to the heavens.” He paused before he whispered the plea. “I prayed that she’d never forget my love.”
***
Waking up for school couldn’t have been any more mundane. Monday. School. Kill me now. After everything I’d just found out, spending eight hours at McKesson High was a catastrophic waste of time. If Martha’s to-do list wasn’t so long, I might have faked an illness. Compared to cleaning all day long or attending school, the latter seemed like the lesser of two evils. After throwing on my school uniform, I trudged to the brick building. Students poured around me. Stella kept them from getting too close, giving me a wide berth. I reached my locker just in time to hear Ryker tell Bree that “the train-wreck is approaching.”
The energy to put up with him wasn’t something I could reasonably do today, so I kept quiet. Besides, he and Bree were getting inappropriately reacquainted, so even if I had an amazing come-back, it’d fall on deaf ears. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and dumped my backpack in front of my locker. I clasped the cold metal lock keeping all my valuables safe inside. I needed a break. Monday had come too fast. I rested my head against the door and took a deep breath. I could do this. I could live normally. I could pretend I wasn’t a murderer – pretend I wasn’t clairvoyant. I’d become an actress in my own life. My life was the stage – my sight, my happiness, my entire existence could be faked.
Bree picked up my backpack and then grabbed my arm. “BFF duties - I need you in the bathroom stat.”
I groaned. Another problem? I followed her down the hall. Students piled into the classrooms. I was going to be late for history and Bree decided this was the opportune time to have an emergency? She led me into the handicap stall and locked the door behind us.
“Spill,” she demanded.
I stood silent. What was she talking about? She was the one who called the impromptu meeting – she was the one with the emergency that couldn’t wait till lunch.
“You’re strung out,” she stated, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve played the part of the good friend and decided that you’d tell me whatever was bothering in good time, but you’ve gone to epic lengths to keep me in the dark.”
“I’m fine.”
“You couldn’t look more like those pictures of drug junkies the health nurse showed us,” she said defensively. “I might not know the difference between crack and coke, but I know you, Winnie. You’re strung out. What are you taking?”
“You’ve been watching too many episodes of Intervention,” I said, and reached for the door.
She slapped my hand away. The flood of sadness I’d buried deep in order to even come to school, threatened to trickle out from my eyes; but, I wasn’t going to back down. I reached for the door again. She pushed me. My back hit the bathroom wall. The bell sounded. We were officially late for class.
“I’m not on drugs!” My frustration poured out. I barely managed on auto-pilot. Going to get a tardy slip from the principal was like having to scale a mountain, and I lost my climbing gear.
“Then, what is it? You’re all secretive. You’ve been ill a lot, or are you faking all these sick leaves? You say your fine but your temper is snapping more than usual. You bail on hanging out with me, and then when I call your house, Elsie answers and says that you told your fosters you’d gone to my place. So unless you’ve grown a ‘Bree Clone’ you’ve got some exp –”
“They’re all dead, Bree! My entire family is dead. My parents! My sister! I’m the only survivor!”
I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t say that it was my fault. In my heart I knew it was the truth. Their lives were cut short because a horde of mentally deranged people were after me. I slid down the wall and crumbled into a sobbing mess on the dirty, cold floor.
“Oh, girlie,” Bree whispered, and then sat down beside me. She hugged me; I held on with sheer desperation. She didn’t know the whole truth – not even close. “The guy who broke into your house that night was a complete psycho. You were just a kid.”
“Everything okay in here?” A hall-monitor.
I wiped my eyes and prepared fo
r the infamous tardy slip to slide under the door. Bree shifted and dug a thin piece of paper out of her pocket. She pushed it under the door. The hall-monitor picked it up.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” she said, and started to walk out of the bathroom.
“Ten? We both know a twenty buys double that,” Bree said.
“There are two of you – ten minutes each.”
“Two?” Bree gasped as if she couldn’t believe the accusation. “I’m hanging out with my mannequin in here.”
“Whatever, you two better be gone when I finish rounds.”
The bathroom door shut, cutting us off from the rest of the school. Bree shifted beside me. “Pinky-swear you’re not on anything, and I’ll believe you one-hundred percent.”
My little finger slipped through hers. And as silly as it sounded, I felt better. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Okay, then let’s get you cleaned up because you look like someone sneezed on your face and you didn’t bother to wipe it off,” Bree said, and then reached for her backpack. Her supply of make-up, bobby-pins, and perfume, would always take priority over school books. She wasn’t going to make valedictorian. I wasn’t either, but it’d be over her dead body when I walked around looking like a fool. She cared about me, even when I knew I was being difficult. But we were friends – through thick and thin. And that’s what mattered.
“I swear to all that is holy, if you make a big deal about mascara today you’ll be sporting a black-eye. A little bit of Maybelline isn’t going to kill you,” she said, opening up her make-up kit. She dabbed the foundation on my skin. And then blew on my cheeks. “Dry those pretty eyes.”
My reflection shone off the blade’s reflection. Wrinkles creased themselves around my eyes. Even as he kneeled before me, the red -haired man was still at chest height. I pressed my lips together and breathed through my mouth as the stench of rot and decay filled the air.
His skin peeled away from his face as if it couldn’t stand it. Yellow puss and orange infected blood seeped from his tissue. It slopped to the ground. The liquid flesh sprayed my legs. The rotting man vanished and stood behind me a second later. His decaying hand held the knife in my hand. It was now pressed up against my throat.
“–and we’ll grab some much needed dessert after school. I’ll make sure we get the calorie free, extra-large, double scooped chocolate landslide brownie batter.”
“Only if we can stop at the library,” I said. “If you thought I was cracked-out, Hector is probably worried too, and might be tempted to call John or Martha.”
***
Old books and paper greeted us when we walked into the library. Hector’s dark shadow came into view at the sound of the door closing behind us. I whispered to Bree that it might not be a bad idea to make herself scarce. She took the hint and wandered to the young adult section.
“Listen Hector, I’m the biggest butthead for blowing you off,” I said.
He crossed his arms like that comment wasn’t going to cut it for an apology. “And?”
“I’ll let you have first swing at KnockOuts if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being overly hormonal these last few days,” I said.
“Weeks,” he corrected.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to convince Bree to come with me. I know you’d love to get in the rink with her but what if I give you an hour with me and then turn you loose on Elsie. You could show her a few moves,” I said, hoping to win him over with a bribe.
“Is Elsie anything like you?” he asked. The tone of playfulness carried in his question.
I smiled; she was an exact younger version of me. “Shy but has some fight in her.”
“A lot like you,” he commented. “Are you two getting close?”
“Something like that,” I responded, thinking of how she led me around everywhere. My keeper.
“Hector?” Bree asked from behind a book stand. “I found a book I’d like but it’s on the top shelf. Where’s that ladder thing?”
“Girl, you’re not about to touch my ladder,” Hector said, turning his attention on Bree. “It’d be my luck for you to fall and hurt yourself. What title did you want?”
While they were busy fetching a book, and flirting, I moseyed on over to the place I had unexpectedly ran into Marco. I caught a faint whiff of his scent. If I pretended I was the Chronicler and Jace’s guess about me being able to sense peoples past was right, then it made sense why I smelled Marco’s scent.
I remembered Marco tapping a book on a shelf at the library. Was this what he was hinting about? I didn’t know what book he was looking at but as soon as my fingers brushed its own edges, I knew I’d found the right one because it carried Marco’s spicy scent. It was old, falling apart old, but I had to read it; even if the pages were worn they might help shed light on my situation.
Smoke filled the room. I coughed. I was the only one who made a noise, even though I could feel vibrations roll across the floor. I felt it ripple through the air, but only saw the shimmer of the blade before I was pushed aside. A young man with dark brown hair grunted, as if he was startled. A silver spear stuck out of the charred leg. Smoke blocked out everything else in sight.
The man gripped the spear to pull it out, when it disappeared. He applied pressure over the wound on his leg with his hand. A scar on his thumb danced like a thread the moment my pinky brushed against it.
“Next time I go alone,” he groaned. “The Rippler is guarding them, making sure you don’t find them.”
“They’re still a part of me,” I said. “I need to know her plan for them. The Prophet said our younger sister is going to be busy cutting as soon as Analee figures out how to command the Scavengers.”
I stumbled when the vision cut out. I shook my head and refused to think too deeply about it right now. I plucked the book from the shelf only to shove it into my back pack. I could have checked it out using my library card, but if the deities’ secrecy was any indication, I had the impression that a book like this wasn’t to be broadcasted about being read. And, I didn’t want to explain why I needed a book when I couldn’t even read it.
After bidding Hector good-bye, Bree and I left for the diner to gobble up the brownie dessert she’d been craving since first period. A few couples chatted in the booths. Instructing Bree to take the far back booth, I followed her lead.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said after sitting down. “It’ll involve a double date with Ryker and Jace.”
“I’m listening,” she said, failing at not sounding too eager.
“I need you to read something for me,” I said, and pulled the worn book from my back pack. “I’m hoping to get back into Mr. Tinsley’s good graces with extra-credit essay paper. He wasn’t exactly impressed that I showed up late today.”
“Fine,” Bree said. “But only if there is a ten page maximum clause. I’m not going to spend the day with my nose in a textbook.”
If the book had a title or a copyright date, it had long been rubbed off. “It says, and I quote, anyone who reads this cannot utter a word about the immortal truth or they shall find themselves in the poor company of the Reaper himself… Winnie, what kind of a paper were you planning to write?”
“One he’s never read before.”
Greek mythology told a tale of an immortal race – a group of gods and goddess. Ireland called them fairies. England thought of them as part of the Nephilim race. Conversely, they prefer to address themselves as deities. Regardless of heritage, their source of power was thought to flow from the Elysian in their blood. They’re killable, although, it comes with much effort. They’re the survivors of history itself. Wars, plagues and treachery repeat; yet, this race had survived it all. Stories have been exaggerated throughout the ages, especially about their supernatural powers and unimaginable riches, but one tale has been repeated for ages and appears to hold some clout. If an offspring of a human and deity, spills Elysian blood, the offspring will grow young instead of old. They’re notoriously
known as Hunters.
“So these Hunters are deity hybrids?” I questioned.
“Appears so – it says that the most heinous murders in history slaughtered countless souls in hopes to shed Elysian blood. The Hunters gain one human lifetime for every deity they kill.”
“So they kill these deities to become ageless?”
“Looks like the Hunters are trying to become immortal like the deities but have to keep killing in order to stay young. I bet the deities don’t bump uglies with humans anymore, because they basically were creating their own worst enemy in doing so.”
Their immortality resided on three Fate sisters. Rumors stated that they were the unsung queens of the deity race and human race as well. The sisters’ immortality sealed the deities’ immortality. However, their destiny would ride on the hinges of the human race. When the Fate sisters were together, they were ageless – immortal. When they were apart, their human mortality aged them. Because of their Fate connection, this once unstoppable race was inevitably hunted down and killed by their offspring. Those who survived eventually faded from existence when the Fate sisters aged and died.
Forgotten Page 24