OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2)

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OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2) Page 30

by Shields, Sutton


  Gazing in wonderment at the heart, he said, “Do I hear it beating?”

  “That’s the sound of my heart when I’m with you. Here, feel.” I placed his hand over my heart.

  His smile lit up the night. “How is it possible?”

  “It’s helpful to be best friends with a witch. You once told me I had your heart, and it occurred to me that I’ve never said the same to you. Now you know…you’ll always have every piece of my heart. Always.”

  With glistening eyes, he brushed the hair from my face. Running his thumb over my lips, he said, “Rubylocks, you are my heart…because without you, I stop living.”

  As we kissed, a light snow began to fall.

  “It’s snowing! And it’s only snowing over the manor and its property!”

  “Must be a gift from Santa. Speaking of gifts,” he said, rummaging inside his jacket. “I couldn’t let Christmas come and go without having something for you on the day itself.” He handed me the little plush owl from Macallister’s Toy Shop.

  “You remembered,” I said, hugging the little guy, who looked adorable in his big blue bow.

  “Got him for you the very next day,” he said. “It’s becoming a tradition, you wanting a stuffed animal and me giving it to you on Christmas.”

  “A boyfriend that accepts my vow to never fully grow up,” I said with a sigh. “Thank you for being you.”

  “Thank you for being with me. I wouldn’t be the ‘me’ I am now without you,” he said, kissing me once more. “Well, as much as I’d like to keep this between us…”

  “It’s snowing...on the beach…in Texas. We need to bring our crazy, mismatched family out here,” I said. “Hey! Y’all come out here! It’s snowing!”

  Pretty soon, everyone was outside on the beach, dancing, laughing, and cuddling under the snow.

  “I think we need a grand and glorious ending, just like in the classics!” said Doctor Tenly, hugging Treeva.

  Mom started us in a sing-along of perhaps the greatest Christmas carol of all time. And that’s how we saw Christmas come to an end: together, as a family, full of love.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Buried Under

  January: New year

  Monthly Life Caption: New Same Old Crap

  Mood: Antsy

  Eating: Back on leafy bunny blah

  Music: Anything that puts me in attack mode

  New Year’s Day, match two, earth element. It can’t be easy being the holiday to follow Christmas every year. I mean, look at all the wonder and tradition that comes with Christmas. What does the New Year bring to excite the masses? A new number. Thrilling. I’d feel bad for the New Year if it didn’t always, without fail, suck.

  Following the most magical, romantic, uplifting Christmas in the history of Christmases with the sight of twelve coffins resting next to twelve empty graves awaiting our burial was just so damn wrong.

  “Ready to go six feet under?” asked Jex, picking up Spritz.

  “I can honestly say nuh-uh,” I retorted.

  “Eh, the worst part will be busting out of the coffin,” said Jex airily. “The trick is ripping through the lining first, and then pushing, not punching, through the wood. And no using your blasting palm-power stuff, unless you want to end up staked like a vampire.”

  “Is there anything you haven’t done?”

  “Uh…no,” he said, smiling.

  “I didn’t even get a birthday party, and now I have to crawl into a grave,” Polly huffed.

  “This again?” Meikle growled. “It was you who didn’t want a party. Besides, Mrs. Valentine made you a cake and you still got presents. Quit your griping.”

  Polly tugged on her earlobe. “I didn’t get a tiara.”

  “You need help,” said Meikle. “When can we climb in our coffins?”

  “Any minute,” said Jex.

  “Excellent.” Of course Meikle would be on the edge of her seat to take a coffin ride.

  For tonight’s match, all of the judges wore green; I swear Madame Helena decided to wear her curtains, à la Scarlett.

  Kori Naughtin ignited the men in the crowd with a semi-sheer, lime green dress. “Okay, fans! Loving those ‘Team Spritz’ shirts, by the way! So…are ya ready to hear what the teams have to do? Yeah? All right, then! Teams, once you are buried, you’ll hear a beep. At that time, you must free yourself from the coffin, dig through the ground, and find your hidden tunnel. Crawl through the tunnel until you arrive in an underground chamber. There, you’ll need to retrieve a pentacle and staff. Once you have both items, climb out of the chamber…if you can. Remember, time and technique will be critical to your team’s success. And because neither team captain used their tridents during the water element, that option is still available to both. Contestants, please approach your coffins.”

  Both teams stepped up to the coffins. Staring into the coffin, with its white silk lining and cherry wood exterior, images of my father stole my mind. His wake was the only time Madame Helena permitted me to leave the institution. She sent a troop of guards to watch me; they didn’t even let me hug my mom. There wasn’t much about that day I remember, apart from how lonely he looked in the coffin.

  “Please get into your coffins.” Kori’s voice sounded like an echo.

  I put my hand on the edge of the coffin, the tips of my fingers brushing against the silky interior, and I saw him, dead inside the casket. “Dad?” Daddy’s red hair was so bright against the satiny beige cushion, and the strangulation marks around his neck seemed to pulsate, almost tauntingly. My throat started to close, and my erratic breathing forced a strange pressure to push behind my nose and eyes.

  “Marina, find me.” Troy, standing on the other side of the coffin, urged my mind to escape the past. When my eyes found his strong, loving gaze, he gently said, “Fight the fear.”

  Nodding, I once again peered into the coffin; the image of my father was gone. Smiling at Troy, I climbed in. The lid slammed shut as soon as my head touched the pillow. “This is some screwed up crap.” As the coffin shifted, lifted, and lowered into the ground at an agonizingly slow speed, I made a decision. “Crisp me up like toast, because I’m never ending up in a box in the ground for the bugs to nibble away at. No way.”

  As the coffin continued to lower, I heard the muffled voice of Kori addressing the crowd. “Don’t worry about missing any of the action down yonder, because as soon as they’re buried, the ground will open, and down we’ll go to watch the fun!”

  Fun? Really? The coffin finally landed in the ground with a dull thud. The sound of dirt and sand hit the lid, and all I wanted was to hear the dang beep, so I could rip this crap up, hard. To keep from panicking, I closed my eyes and started counting as I tapped my foot on the end of the casket. I would do this until I heard the…BEEP. My eyes shot open; I shoved my nails into the lining of the coffin, tearing it apart and shredding it sideways, like a wild cat, until I could peel it away. Remembering what Jex said, I pushed the lid as hard as I could, keeping constant pressure on it with my hands and feet; little by little, it cracked open, allowing the dirt to pour in on top of me. Every attempt at breathing was suffocated by falling dirt and sand; my muscles quivered so badly, I knew it was only a matter of seconds before they gave out. With the fear of having to start all over again creeping across my mind, I screamed against the pain and sent a powerful surge through my arms and legs. The crack grew big enough for me to squeeze through. Squeezing my body through the narrow opening, the fractured wood of the casket slicing though my top, cutting my back, I plunged into the wall of dirt.

  Feverishly clawing and punching at the ground, desperate to find the tunnel before I passed out from lack of oxygen, my elbow finally hit a hollow area. Using the right side of my body, I shoved through the hollow area and rolled directly into a dark, sandy tunnel. Tiny hermit crabs skittered by me—GAG—as I crawled—GAG—along the tunnel.

  “Knees hurt, knuckles and back, total bloody messes...stinks like rotten craaaa—” Without the
slightest warning, the bottom of the tunnel collapsed, and I slammed to the ground, landing on my hip and shoulder. “Ugh. Good thing Saviors heal fast.” I forced my sore body to stand up and stupidly tried to brush the dirt off my jeans. “Yeah, like imbedded dirt is going anywhere. Stupid ass.”

  The underground chamber was drab and dirty; four torches provided a dim light. Two clear panels on either end of the chamber allowed fans to observe us, like mice in a maze. I didn’t see Mom in the sections watching my chamber—her blood pressure must be on the brink of ‘walking heart attack.’ I flipped around, busily searching for the pentacle and staff. Finally, in a small corner, I saw them peeking out from a large trunk.

  “Wow,” I said, starting for them, “that was easy.” I really must learn to think before I, you know, think. Something smashed into my stomach, and I soared clear across the chamber and crashed against the hard, gritty wall. “So, not as easy as I thought.” Raising myself off the ground, I tried to cross the chamber once more, but an invisible power hit me upside the head. This time, the strike hurled my body sideways into a clear panel; I heard the crowd gasp. Before I could even attempt to stand, the invisible coward slammed my head against the panel again and again. “Just curious…what do you think of the phrase…‘Up yours?’” I used my gel shield to entangle whatever creature got its rocks off concussing me. Before it broke free, I rolled, ran, and soared to the trunk; snatching the pentacle and staff, I turned to leave, but found a gnome, staring me down.

  “Pentacle on. Will protect. Hold up to evoke them. Talk. Hear. Cover it up. Go,” said the gnome.

  Sighing, I said, “Once again, this is when Gully would come in very handy. Okay…pentacle on and hold up to evoke.” Studying the shimmering blue pentacle dangling from a dark blue ribbon, I noticed it had many different pictures and shapes carved into its face. “Wear it like a necklace, maybe?” The little gnome nodded. The instant I slipped it around my neck and held it up in my hand, four male spirits with strings of skin dangling from their mouths materialized. “Are y’all the ones kicking my butt around this chamber?”

  “Yes,” said the eldest.

  “Ah, well, tell your spirit leader I didn’t appreciate it.”

  They all bowed their heads. “Ask your question.”

  “Um, I don’t have one,” I said.

  The eldest laughed. “All minds store questions. The question you most wish to ask resides in both your mind and your heart. We hear it, but you must speak it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I do have one. Who is The Dealer?”

  The spirits exchanged knowing glances. Joining hands, they formed a circle around me. “Truth bypasses a severed core, flowing through the veins of one’s beginning.”

  “I’m sorry…huh? That’s not an answer! It’s a riddle!”

  “They have answered,” squeaked the gnome. “Follow my directions.”

  “Cover it and go were the next two on your list. So, yeah, thanks for all your non-help,” I muttered, placing the pentacle on the inside of my shirt. “Ouch! You bit my finger! Why, dude?”

  “Habit,” said the gnome before his eyes glazed over. “Over, over, over she falls.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Listen, whoever you are, or whatever you are…I’m ready to take your ass down, anytime.”

  Using every crevice I could find, I started to climb my way out of the chamber. As I neared the halfway point, huge blasts above, below, and on either side of me sent dirt into my mouth and eyes; rotting hands shot out all around me, yanking at the staff, ripping at my clothes, and pulling at my limbs. The relentless clawing jostled my legs, causing me to swing uncontrollably sideways; dangling by my fingertips, my gaze unwittingly landed upon at least a dozen zombies shuffling towards me, their ravenous eyes focused on my legs. Scrambling to regain my footing, I forced my feet into the wall, but every time I found some stability, all of the slimy, groping hands knocked me out of place. As I was about to reposition my left foot, something grabbed hold of it; looking down, I gasped: a zombie had his mouth open, ready to rip my ankle apart; I could feel its breath through my jeans. Just as it was about to bite, I swung the staff around and stabbed the tip through the zombie’s skull. When I did, an enormous orange glow engulfed the chamber, setting it ablaze, and sent me flying up and out.

  “Oooh, this is gonna hurt!”

  Landing flat on my back by Jex’s feet, the wet soaking through to my leather jacket, I wondered if I was drenched in sweat or blood.

  Jex lifted me up and pulled me into a hug. “First back from both teams, Savior! Well done!” I yelped when he touched my back. “Let me look.” He gently removed my jacket, dropping it to the sand, and slowly peeled the shirt from my back. The tips of his fingers gently slid along my sides, caressed my waist, and brushed the small of my back. I may be inexperienced in the ways of sex, but his touch spoke one unequivocal fact: Jex knew how to please. “Here, this will speed up the healing.” Removing a feather, he slipped it inside the back of my shirt.

  The cool softness of the feather melted into a cream and soaked into the wounds. “That feels good,” I said.

  “I know,” he said, leaning into me.

  “Pentacle and staff,” demanded Mr. Anderson, sneaking up on us.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, thanks for asking. Damn zombie almost took off my foot. Cut the hell out of myself trying to escape the coffin,” I said sarcastically.

  “The items…please,” he replied coolly.

  As I handed him the pentacle and staff, Jex quipped, “Must be rough for you, Allen, being reduced to nothing more than the equipment boy.” Mr. Smarmy pursed his lips and stomped off. “He must be in blue ball hell.”

  I frowned. “Is that the name of the next ball or something?” Oh God. I did it again. “Was I just stupid?”

  “I’d call it refreshingly innocent,” said Jex, flashing a gorgeous smile.

  “Could you please rotten up the innocence, so I don’t make a fool of myself again?”

  “Basically, Anderson hasn’t had a decent lay in his life and he desperately needs one,” said Jex. “And, for the record, you make a pretty cute fool.”

  I think I’m having a moment with the horn-dog angel…at night…all alone. It feels weird. Very weird. And wrong. Thank God Trey, Meikle, Airianna, and Katrina exploded from their chambers. They were soon followed by Polly, Ophelia, Irving, Gully, Benji, and Muriel.

  “Happiest I’ve been in a long time,” Meikle purred, swinging her pentacle.

  “Of course you’d enjoy being buried in the ground and fighting gooey zombies,” Polly growled as Mr. Smarmy approached her.

  “Pentacle and staff,” he said, holding his hand out.

  Polly put the pentacle around his neck and slammed the staff in the crook of his arm. “You’ll need free hands for these.” She shoved a handful of smelly, rock-like objects into the palm of his hand. “The gnome bit me…so I removed his teeth. He may want them back.” For the first time, a sickly green overtook Mr. Smarmy’s usual look of hate. “So, who’s left?”

  “Troy,” I said, a sudden worry filling my body. “Something’s wrong.”

  “This was worse than the first match, and it is on land…maybe it’s just difficult for him,” said Ophelia, trying to calm me as I shivered.

  “No, that’s not it,” I said, the worry turning into a flashing warning inside my mind.

  “Um, okay, fans, it appears Troy Tombolo is…having some technical difficulties,” said Kori’s muffled voice. Kori and the crowd were still underground. “Oh…should someone help him?” Her attempt at covering the microphone failed.

  “I’m going in.”

  “Marina, no,” said Jex, grabbing my arm. “You don’t know what has him.”

  “I know whatever it is will soon un-have him.” I ran for his makeshift tomb and jumped in.

  I quickly unburied the busted coffin and followed the path he created until I found the tunnel to his chamber. When I finally dropped into his chamber, my heart ached
—Troy was cowering in a corner with his hands pressed over his head as the spirits danced around, heckling him. An odd bell-like ringing echoed off the walls. I quickly spotted the pentacle resting askew in the middle of the room; the staff was leaning against the wall near Troy.

  “Hey, didn’t your mamas ever tell you it was rude to heckle?” The spirits turned their angry eyes on me and soared for my head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Time to put some starch in those sheets.” Throwing my hand in the air, I trapped them within a gel bubble. “Damn, Troy, I’m so getting the hang of this whole power paw-palms girl stuff.” At the sound of my voice saying his name, Troy stood up, cracked his neck, and faced the crowd of startled faces watching us. “Here,” I said, snatching the pentacle off the ground. “Put this around your neck and under your shirt. It’ll make them disappear. Troy? Can you hear me?”

  “How could I not? You haven’t stopped talking since you dropped in, uninvited,” he said coldly.

  “Uh, where did that come from?” Ungrateful dick.

  “From the right place inside me…the place you’ve trained me to ignore…the place I intend to listen to from now on.” He turned to face me; the emptiness of his eyes couldn’t be any darker.

  “You’re not Troy.”

  “I’m the real Troy. The one that terrifies you...the one that turns you on. Terror and passion go together like blood and murder. I’m the one you want to be your teacher…to swallow you…to drive into you and make you scream. Problem is…I like my women to know what they’re doing. If I’m bringing them there, they better be getting me…further. Get me, Rubylocks?”

  I wouldn’t allow the tears to fall. I wouldn’t. This wasn’t my boyfriend. “And then some. You’re a man-whore demon wearing a good man’s face. What, you couldn’t find a boiled-covered ass appropriate enough for ya?”

  Smiling a devilish grin, he said, “Spunk. I like that. Brings the act of killing from mere entertainment—you know, something to do on a rainy Sunday—to a point closer to ecstasy. You used to read cards, right? So here’s one for you. What does the Jack of spades plus the word ‘Deliberating’ mean to you?” From his pocket, he pulled out the Jack of spades and flipped it between his fingers. “What’s that I see? Hurt? Mmm, that’s doing it for me, Red. Ah, wait…is that a glimmer of grief? Now, grief I love. Screw greed…grief is good. Grief is great. Grief cleanses the palate for the main meal—destruction.”

 

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