“I was going to tell Nim,” I say, “But then I heard what she was asking you and—oh, Elli! You don’t think she could be the other Watcher, do you? The one that’s supposed to bring the Key to The House and destroy universes?”
I expect her to laugh the notion off—to scoff at the idea of Nim being anything other than a law-abiding member of The House—but instead she frowns and leans against the wall, letting her face fall into shadows.
“Now that you mention the possibility, I’m not sure. Nim’s one of the smartest Watchers in here, and she’s the type to be adamant about whatever cause she undertakes, whether that be the laws of The House or the prophecy to destroy all we hold dear. She’s cleverer than most give her credit for, too. That one day you were put on trial—when Dante was deciding whether or not to throw you into the void—she was very shrewd to bring me in as a witness. Without having to speak on your behalf herself, she maintains a perfect reputation. Maybe she didn’t mean for me to save you at all, either. Maybe she really intended for the Leaders to ignore me because of my defiance so that you could be cast into the void.”
“It can’t be Nim. It just can’t be. Maybe she only wants to get inside to save the mystical force herself, not to wield it. She did say she wanted to prevent it,” I sob, burying my face in Elli’s shoulder.
“To tell you the truth, I’m more concerned about the boy you speak of. Noah, is it? He needs protection. You should go to Earth and help keep him safe.”
“But what if Nim—or whoever’s behind the attacks—expects me to do just that? To lead her straight to him? I’ll be hurting more than helping if I do that.”
Elli shrugs, gently prying me off of her. “It’s up to you, Amara. But know this. Every prophecy the first Seer has spoken has come to pass. Every single one. But they also often have double meanings. Depths you cannot see until events have come to fruition. To try and play against the foretelling may not be wise.”
“If it means saving Noah and my universe, I have to try.”
I turn away and walk back to my room, and Elli calls after me as I go. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
When I reach my bedchamber, the door is already ajar. I halt in my tracks, glancing around the hall, but no one else is there. Walking forward on soft feet, I peek my head around the frame.
The Harbinger doesn’t see me at first. It’s standing by my bed, the piece of parchment featuring Noah’s image clutched in its skeletal palm. Its hood obscures its face in blackness, but a terrible feeling rolls in my gut. If this is one of the same Harbingers that attacked me on Earth, it will recognize the picture. It’ll know where Noah is.
My arm brushes against the door and it swings slightly, creaking on the hinges. The Harbinger snaps its head up to stare at me. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to back away, not to run. Instead I lurch forward, pulling the door closed behind me as I go.
“I can’t let you leave this room,” I say, my words a growl that rips up my throat.
The Harbinger crumples the page in its fist and glides a little to the left. I match him with a sidestep of my own, blocking its path.
“Kill me if you want. I know what you’ve seen and I won’t let you go after him without fighting back,” I add.
Still, the Harbinger doesn’t attack. No red light emanates from under its hood. It tries gliding around me again, this time to the right. I block its path again.
Knowing we can’t dance forever, I steel my nerves and pounce. My hand wraps around the skeletal wrist holding Noah’s image. Its skin is moist and slippery between my fingers. The Harbinger glides back, surprised, and I use its confusion to my advantage, slamming its arm down into the nightstand. The force cracks its wrist and the being wails, high-pitched and keening like an injured animal. Its fingers unclench and the ball of parchment falls to the ground.
I feel my grasp melting and look down to find the Harbinger dissolving into smoke. I can’t prevent the transformation, but at least my head is clear enough to react this time. I’ve never tried outside the Watch Room when I’m not diving into a universe, but maybe my resolve helps me because as soon as I wish it I begin to morph into mist, my own gray cloud form curling around the Harbinger’s black one. I chase it under the door and out into the hall, circling it like a spiral as it careens off of ceilings and walls.
I refuse to slow down, refuse to give up. We wind through halls and around corners, in and out of open rooms. Eventually it leads me into the Archives Room. Elli sits at the desk, not even noticing us as we fly overhead and into one of the tunnels. The Harbinger zigzags left and right, up and down, but I stay with it until a member of The House intercepts its flight path.
The man stands in the middle of the tunnel, dusting off the shelves. He sees us coming at the last second and drops the duster. The Harbinger plows right through him, his black smoke form disappearing into the Archiver’s stomach and reappearing on the other side. I, on the other hand, have never flown through a human form—didn’t even know it was possible—and when I reach the man I tumble out of smoke form to stop my momentum, my solid body crashing into his and knocking him to the floor.
I let out a string of choice curse words, courtesy of Noah, and I’m on my feet again, running in the direction I think the black smoke went. When I round the bend in the tunnel, though, the Harbinger is gone. The only thing surrounding me is books and parchment and shelves, and fear begins to tear at my insides. There is only one thought coursing through my mind, one person I need to get to before the Harbinger does.
Noah.
Chapter Eighteen
I am smoke flying through my universe, but I am also tears and panic and terror. When I land on the beach I don’t take time to look at the lake or the sand; I just run toward Noah’s home and pray I get there before the Harbingers do.
It’s dark outside, and the moon and stars are covered in a cloak of gray clouds. Every shadow that flickers past makes me jump and gasp. By the time I reach the yellow cottage with the blue door my heart feels like it’s trying to break free of my ribcage and my breath comes in panting gulps.
I look in the front window but there is no one in the dining room. I can see the glow of lights coming from somewhere deep inside the house, and the muffled sound of laughter drifts into my ears. Rounding the side of the yard, I trail along the edge of the garden beds until I come to Noah’s window.
A sigh of relief calms my nerves as I see Noah lying on his bed inside. His neck is propped up on pillows and a book is tipped overhead, obscuring half his face. The light from a desk lamp casts a yellow beam across the room.
My heart slows its frantic pace as I knock delicately on the window. Noah looks up, his expression a mix of surprise and happiness when he sees me. Coming to greet me, he slides the panes open, leans his elbows on the frame, and bends his head out so that his nose nearly brushes mine.
“I missed you,” he says.
“Can I come in?” I ask, his kind words doing little to assuage the ominous feeling brewing in my gut.
He frowns and steps back. “Of course. The rest of my family’s watching television in the living room, though, so you’ve got to keep your voice down.”
I use my arms to leverage my body weight, swinging my legs up and over the frame and landing quietly on the other side. As soon as I do I rush up to Noah and throw my arms around him, pulling him in close.
He must feel my body trembling because he sets one hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair, and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I step back, letting my hands slip from around his shoulders and wrap around his fingers. “We’ve got to run, Noah. It’s not safe here anymore. The Harbingers are after you.”
“But why would they be after me? I’m not a part of The House.”
“I’ll explain later. But for now, we have to go.”
He furrows his brow, glancing toward his bedroom door. “I can’t just take off. My parents will kill me.”
“As long as you’re he
re, they’re in danger, too. All of them, even Lizzie.”
He draws his body into mine and speaks soothingly. “Everything’ll be alright, Amara. You just need to calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
I wrench free of his grip, putting enough space between us that he can no longer ignore the panic in my eyes and the tension in my limbs. “You’re not understanding me. The House isn’t safe anymore. You’re not safe. I tried to protect you, but I failed. And now they know who you are. What you are. The person controlling the Harbingers is going to send them here to retrieve you, and I doubt they’ll even flinch if your family or I get in the way.”
“Amara—you’re not making any sense. I can’t come with you. I have school. A life. And even if I could, where would we go?”
“Someplace far away that no one knows about.” I stride over to his closet, open the doors, and begin pulling his clothing off hangers, making a pile on his bed. “Pack what you can. Leave the rest. We don’t have much time.”
Noah intercepts me, stepping between the closet and me and pinning my arms to my sides. I struggle against him but his gentle grip is also firm, and I can’t break loose.
“You’ve got to listen to me, Noah!” I plead, my voice raising several octaves.
“Shh,” he says. “My parents will hear you.”
Silence grips the air as we stare at each other in defiance. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my mind clinging to a danger my ears haven’t picked up on yet. Then it dawns on me.
There’s no noise coming from the living room anymore. No more laughing voices or glowing light cast under the bedroom door. I break from Noah’s gaze and pad over to the exit, bringing a shaking hand to the knob. Noah opens his mouth to speak but I silence him with a finger to my lips.
Easing the door open a fraction at a time so it doesn’t creak, I slip into the hall. Outside of the bedroom the house is cast in darkness. Shadows envelop the family portraits hanging on the walls, turning the faces pictured there into hollow wraiths with empty eyes. I feel Noah’s presence behind me as he follows me out into the kitchen, past cabinets and counters until we reach the living room.
The couch’s back faces us when we first enter. Two heads crest over the cushions. A smaller figure cloaked in shadow sits on a loveseat on the opposite side of the room. The form doesn’t move or breathe or speak. I stop in my tracks, grabbing Noah’s arm before he can walk ahead of me.
“Something’s not right,” I whisper. “Don’t go in there.”
But Noah ignores me and steps beyond the couch anyway. My stomach turns into cold stone as a horrified expression passes over his face and he stumbles back to support his weight on a nearby end table. I follow in his tracks, knowing what I’m about to find but wanting to deny it all the same.
Noah’s parents sit on the couch, their mouths open in silent screams. Dark circles line their eyes; their skin has become so pale the blue veins underneath jut out. Their chests are still; their stares are vacant.
They look exactly like Dena and Oman did before they were cast into the void, only worse.
Noah rushes over to the loveseat, dropping to his knees in front of the shadowy figure. I can’t bring myself to move any closer as he grabs onto the body to shake it. Lizzie falls over sideways, her gaping mouth and dead eyes caught in a beam of moonlight that filters in through the dining room window. She is a tiny thing—too young to have stopped breathing—and I nearly retch at the sight of her.
Noah doesn’t have time to scream out, to grieve. A floorboard creaks behind us and we spin around, coming face to face with a Harbinger. The being lashes out with a skeletal arm, broadsiding me across the cheek, and I fly backward into Noah. We land in a pile at the base of the loveseat, struggling to untangle ourselves as the Harbinger glides closer.
“Run,” I tell Noah as we stumble to our feet.
“I won’t leave you,” he says, holding out a hand. His cheeks are wet and his eyes are scared. I slip my fingers through his and he yanks me into a sprint toward the front door.
Breaking out into the moonlight, we dash down the driveway and onto the street. I can feel the Harbinger behind us, close on our heels. Its power washes over me, sapping my energy dry. The nearer the Harbinger comes, the worse the sensation gets. Soon my feet feel like lead and my heart slows. Still, I know Noah is beside me and that I have to protect him. The thought keeps me going even though I want to fall to the ground and go to sleep.
We reach the beach on legs of jelly. I’m five paces from the surf when my body gives out and I collapse in the sand. Noah’s hand slips from mine and he staggers forward, trying hard to stay upright. The Harbinger glides closer and he finally goes down, his face landing in the edge of the water as it washes against his cheek.
“Please,” he splutters against the lake foam, and then his eyes close and he becomes quiet.
The world tilts and blurs as the Harbinger glides on. It’s only a yard away from Noah, maybe less, and as it passes by the place where I lay my desperation kicks in and I do the only thing I can think of. I raise a half-numb arm and grab onto the hem of its cloak, pulling hard.
The Harbinger’s pace falters as its robe slides of its skeletal form. What’s underneath is hideous enough to make me scream. It’s oily and black, with tendrils of red muscle climbing like vines up its limbs. Its back is hunched and its head is recessed into its shoulders, looking more like a hunk of rotting meat than an actual skull. Two deformed feet, withered from lack of use with toes that curl into its soles, dangle inches from the ground as the Harbinger floats in midair. Two red coals burn where its eyes should be.
Adrenaline stabs through my fatigue as the Harbinger turns back to Noah and glides over him. The being bends down, reaching out a skeletal hand to brush against Noah’s cheek. I roll over, groaning, and fumble through the sand until my hand closes around a rock. The stone is sharp on one side and heavy on the other. I let the jagged end dig into my palm, drawing a line of silver on my skin, and turn the blunt part outward.
Rising jerkily to my feet, I fumble across the beach until I stand behind the Harbinger. It doesn’t see me—it’s too focused on Noah lying asleep in the sand. Raising an arm high overhead, I bring the rock down, down, until it smashes hard into the Harbinger’s skull.
The Harbinger falls in a crumpled heap to the ground and its power over me releases. I’m still tired, but it’s a residual grogginess, as if I’ve just woken up from a bad dream. My vision clears and the Harbinger becomes a sharp image against the damp silt beneath my feet. It stirs, its eyes flickering a burning red, then black, then red again.
I bend over it, raising the rock a second time, and then a third. Each blow creates a concave hole in the creature’s skull, coupled with the sickening snap of bone and rotting flesh. The Harbinger finally stops twitching, its decaying body melting into a pile of ash right before my eyes. The lake washes forth to meet it, dragging the remains into its watery depths.
Noah groans and opens his eyes. I drop the rock and rush to his side, flipping him over so that he lies on his back in the sand, his head cradled in my lap. One side of his face is covered in mud and water. I use my hand to wipe it away as he blinks up at me.
“My parents … Lizzie …” he trails off.
“They’re dead,” I say, replying to the tears leaking from his eyes with a stifled sob. “I’m so sorry, Noah. This is all my fault.”
He inches a palm across my forearm until his hand reaches mine. It’s his silent way of telling me I’m wrong. “The Harbinger?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“I killed it. But there will be more on the way. I’m sure of it.”
“How did you—”
I motion to the rock cast aside on the ground. Its surface is drenched in oily residue and stringy muscle that slowly disintegrates into flakes of ash.
“Why is this happening? Why are those—things—after me?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you everything. The whole story. But first we’ve got to
get off this beach. We need to find a place to hide.”
The air above me stirs, and when I look up plumes of black smoke swirl down from the gray clouds like a tornado funnel. There are hundreds of them, each one swirling and winding around the other, creating an impenetrable circle that slowly descends around the beach. We’re caught in the eye of the storm with no way out.
“We have to get to a car, or a bus. Anything to get us away from these things fast,” Noah says, sitting up from my lap as he watches the black smoke wind down to meet us. “But first we have to get off the beach. Can we run through the smoke?”
“Not a good idea. They’d choke the life out of us before we made it to the grass. But I think I know a way to get away and outrun the Harbingers all at once,” I reply.
The funnel cloud that storms around us kicks up a great wind that whips at our hair and skin. Noah raises his voice to be heard over the noise. “And what way is that?”
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
The black smoke draws in tighter now, the circle growing ever smaller. Sand grinds against my exposed flesh, rubbing my skin red. Noah looks around him and then squeezes my hand, letting his gaze meet mine.
“Always,” he says.
With the Harbingers closing in around us, I wrap Noah in my arms. Then, closing my eyes, I reach.
Chapter Nineteen
It starts with our hands and winds down our bodies like spirals. His fingertips become a plume of blue smoke, mine gray, and then our arms, our legs, our heads. We are clouds that drift up, up into the air, straight through the funnel’s eye into the night sky. Noah ripples with sparks as he drinks in the sight of the stars and moon above, but I wrap my smoke around him and pull him forward, plummeting around the curve of Earth.
The Harbingers try to follow but they are surprised by the transformation and soon they lose us in the fluffy clouds that coat the atmosphere. We pass by cities and forests, roadways and neighborhoods. The people that dot the world below look like ants and we are merely observers, sweeping across a sky that no one notices us in.
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