Under normal circumstances, I would run to his aid. But here in this twisted place of evil, I turn away and take off instead. Sickening guilt instantly consumes me even though I know nothing can be done because I’ve literally landed in Wandering hell.
The sounds of my ragged breathing and the squishing of my soaked boots slapping against the cobblestones are my only companions as I sprint another mile. When I turn another corner and enter a town square, an old concrete fountain stands at the center. Water trickles from the top, pooling into a circular basin. Caution demands that I slow down and take stock before blindly rushing into the open, so I duck my head down and slow to a walk, surreptitiously scanning the square.
Several people, old and broken, drift around; some moan, heads tilted back, mouths hanging low, toothless, and slack like zombies.
A woman near me with her head wrapped in a dark covering leans into the fountain and dips a bucket into the water. She draws it out and staggers under its weight, spilling most of the contents and soaking her clothes. She huffs with frustration and squats down.
“Here, I’ll help you.” I grab the bucket and help her stand, intent on pumping her for information about Terease. I hope that when I find her, she can finally give me answers to the questions that torture me: Why my mom was still alive when I believed she was dead, why she was part of the Underground, and why this information was kept from me. I always believed that Terease was just the Harvester and the administrator, enforcer of the rules at the Academy, but when she was arrested as a traitor to the Society of Wanderers, it shocked me. Obviously she had more layers than I knew.
“Oh, thank you.” The woman pulls back her head covering.
“Mona?” I gasp with disbelief.
Her lips tremble as she reaches out blindly; her wide, soulless black eyes can’t see. “Seraphina?” She places a hand on either side of my face. “What are you doing here?”
Before I can answer, another voice calls out. “Mummy, are you okay?”
My head whips around at the sound. Small Charlotte, just slightly older than she should be, stands in a nearby doorway. Her father, Joe, standing behind with one hand protectively on her shoulder, pulls her close. Each holds the door frame, feeling their way through their blindness.
“Go back inside and shut the door, Charlotte, quickly!” Mona commands. Joe pulls his daughter back into the darkness and slams the door.
“No, no, no! Why are you all here? What’s happened?” My heart seizes for a moment, despair washing over me at the realization that Bishop’s family members aren’t safe at all, but instead are trapped here in this hell.
“Sera, darling, listen very closely.” The woman I’d once known and loved as my aunt releases my face, then grasps my hands and squeezes. “You must remain strong and leave this instant. I can feel the life in you; you still own your soul. You don’t belong here.” Her haggard face pinches as her brow furrows deeply, her words spilling out rapidly as she anxiously clutches my hands.
“Neither do you.” Tears fill my eyes, spilling over to run in warm rivulets down my cheeks. “Come back with me, I can save all of you.” I tug at her arms to leave, but she stands her ground.
Mona shakes her head sharply. “Without our souls, we’re stuck. But there’s still a chance for you. Please, I’m begging you!” She presses my face between her palms and kisses my forehead.
“Youth!” a woman cries out.
At the accusation, Mona and I turn our heads to the sound.
A woman with a body as crooked as an old tree sniffs the air in a peculiar way. “Youth,” she shouts again, pointing in our direction.
At her words, the zombies of the plaza react and screech. There’s instant chaos, and I look around the square, confused. For some reason, everyone scurries away like I carry the plague.
“Run!” Mona pushes me away with her palms. “Go home!” she screams and hits me again, swatting me like an unwanted animal.
Before I can argue any more, she drops to the ground, covers her ears, and shrieks, “No! They’re already here.”
I drop down beside her to help her if I can, but that’s when I hear it, what everyone else must be hearing, why everyone else is freaking out. It’s not me that causes their terror; it’s the sound of a galloping horse.
Everyone in the plaza rushes into dark doorways, alleys, and shadows—everyone except a wrinkled man sitting on a nearby bench. In the bedlam, he remains calm, chanting like he is possessed. “When the briny wind blows upon a moonlit sky, the Time Reapers come to veil your eyes. Blackness, death, despair, no one can withstand their evil glare.”
As if on cue, a menacing black apparition, a ghost of a human-like form with a single crooked horn protruding from his head, appears on the opposite side of the square. The beast he rides, a terrible horse-beast rippling with overdeveloped muscles, bucks and writhes beneath him.
The Time Reaper.
::3::
The Time Reaper
I don’t think, I just grab Mona and run in the opposite direction, pulling her with me, but she wriggles away and scampers back toward the monster. Again I grab her, and she shouts, “Run and save yourself, I tell you! Holy ground, it’s the only safe place. Go!” Then she shoves me.
It hits me suddenly that she’s not crazy, she’s trying to protect me.
She turns and waves her arms like a maniac, doing anything she can to draw attention from me. I do what she says and dart through the courtyard, noticing that the others who can walk have hidden themselves. The zombie-like ones fall to the ground where they stand, shrilling when the horse-beast cries out in a horrific snarl.
When I glance over my shoulder, the beast and the Reaper launch forward in a frenzied gallop, hurtling across the courtyard. The sound rumbles and echoes, shaking the weathered buildings, causing stone structures to crumble and collapse around me. Just in time, I leap over a rolling boulder but my landing is unsteady, causing my feet to slip on small stones as they search to grip solid earth.
In the billowing waves of blackness surrounding the Reaper’s hazy body, a scythe appears in his hand. The long curved blade, razor sharp and deadly, gleams wickedly in the moonlight.
As I sprint out of the courtyard, Mona cries out behind me. I imagine her arms still waving erratically, doing anything she can to distract him. Inside I wail with absolute heartbreak that I’ve left all of Bishop’s family behind. I will never forgive myself now.
The gallops don’t miss a beat, they continue forward, following me unerringly as I sprint up the hill, weaving through an onslaught of falling rock and debris. I pump my arms, my legs, pushing faster, wishing for a Protector’s speed. The air rushes in and out of my open mouth, matching my heaving chest.
Somewhere nearby a bell tolls and immediately I search the horizon, scanning the buildings for the silhouette of a bell tower, knowing it will lead me to a church. When I spot it, it’s close. So very close—just a few hundred feet ahead, encircled by a low stone wall, a metal gate guarding the entrance.
The huge horse-beast grunts behind me, its weight pounding the ground heavily as it leaps over and then weaves around the detritus of fallen rock walls. Both rider and beast are relentless and I can almost feel their excitement and rising sense of triumph as they practically breathe down my back.
Run. Run. Run. I’m almost there.
“Open the doors! Help! Let me in!” I scream in the direction of the church, praying someone will hear me.
Behind me, the Reaper laughs. A sound so dark, so menacing that it penetrates my bones, causing them to buzz with pure anxiety. I pump harder, push farther, running so fast that I fear my chest may explode.
A pair of glossy obsidian eyes blink behind a hole in a shattered and broken stained glass window of the church. They widen with shock as I barrel forward.
“Help!” I cry as I reach out.
My body slams through the gate. One footstep past the churchyard’s wall, the horse-beast shoves his muzzle firmly into my back and w
ith a flick sends me flying through the air, crashing into the base of the church steps. I crack my head on a stone riser and warm blood oozes from the wound.
With my body twisted in a mangled and aching mess, I struggle to lift my head and glance up at the now fuzzy Reaper. He’s halted outside the gate and his horse-beast writhes, kicks, and paces back and forth as though they want to push forward but can’t. The animal bares its fangs—long, pointed, and brilliantly white against his dark beast-face.
With a surge of relief, I realize they can’t step into the churchyard. This ground is sacred, and if anything in this world is the devil, I’m looking at two prime candidates right now. Crawling slowly, I pull my body up the stairs, one step at a time, biting back grunts of pain. I need to seek shelter in the church. Somehow. It’s my only chance of survival. And surviving is my only chance to go back and help Bishop’s family.
The Reaper slides off the horse-beast. His shifting face finally hardens to a recognizable shape, but it’s not completely human. Unable to look away, I gape at the sickening combination of dragon, snake, jackal, and hyena, all mixed in a grotesque mask of cracked skin, hovering just above his body of hot lava. His eyes burn with fire—simmering and menacing eyes that are so much scarier than Terease’s. He opens his mouth and I shudder when I see flames release with his heavy breath and deep rumbling laugh. He knows I’m done. He has me now.
I drag myself to the top of the stairs and pound on the door with my palm, sobbing and crying out, “Please! Help!”
“No one escapes me,” he roars. “And your soul,” he pauses to sniff the air, “it smells divine.” He opens his mouth hungrily and the split tongue of a serpent unrolls itself from it, then lifts in a slow and obscene motion to lick against what must be his lips.
I prop myself against the door and turn to face my death, watching as the Reaper slides a massive bow from his saddle, pulls an arrow from his quiver and breathes on its tip, setting it on fire. Then he loads it into the rest and pulls back on the bowstring effortlessly, aiming it directly at my racing heart. All while holding my gaze with his horrible blazing eyes.
If this is it, my final moment, then I will not be a coward, so I sit up straighter and refuse to look away.
At the moment the arrow releases, slicing the air in half, the door propping me up suddenly opens and I fall backward, my body dropping flat on the ground. Heat from the flaming arrow screams past, narrowly missing my fallen head.
Two strong hands grab my shoulders and heave me inside. My savior pushes me out of the way as another flaming arrow whizzes by, sinking its fiery point with a loud thwock deep into the back of a wooden pew. The person slams the door shut, shrugs out of their coat, and quickly throws the fabric on the flames, stifling them into a roiling cloud of smoke.
I breathe heavily in relief, certain that my life is about to end. “Thank you,” I say but don’t move. I’m in too much pain, too upset, and too tired from running.
The shadowy figure turns in the darkened vestibule and walks toward me. When moonlight hits their face, I blink several tears away to clear my vision, unable to believe that I’m really, truly seeing the person before me.
::4::
Terease
Perpetua Gray, my former classmate, stands with her hands on her hips looking down at me. Her eyes are no longer a crystalline blue but are now varnished with black ink. Wrinkles feather the skin at the corners of her eyes and her hair hangs limp, its youthful sheen washed away with expedited time. She’s a grown woman now, aged twenty-five years since I last saw her, making her appear at least forty. I try to stifle my shock because it’s only been two weeks since she left the Academy.
“Bet you thought you’d never see me again.” She extends her hand, helping me from the ground. I ignore my protesting muscles, my broken heart, and stand to meet her gaze.
“I thought the Society sent you home. And you’re—”
“Old?” She raises a graying eyebrow.
“Just older.” It’s so strange to see her image and beauty fast-forwarded into her future. Mona and Charlotte hadn’t changed this much. Perhaps they just arrived. Then I realize with a jolt that they’ll all be dead within a few weeks.
Perpetua ignores my expression, but I have the feeling she knows where my thoughts have led me. “Why are you here?”
She lets out a little huff. “As it turns out, there’s no leaving the Society. Not alive, anyway.”
My eyes widen. “I had no idea.” And all this time I believed that Perpetua and her team had been sent home to their families, as if expelled from an ordinary boarding school. More proof of the Society’s twisted practices.
“The good news is that I’m not going to treat you like a sixteen-year-old mega-witch anymore. At least my brain has matured with this wrinkled bag I have to call a body.” A grim smile touches her lips. “And I guess you could say being here has given me a new perspective.”
Before I can respond, she says, “We should get you cleaned up.” Then she grabs my arm and throws it over her shoulder. “Lean on me.”
“What about the Reaper?” I glance back. The horse-beast circles the building. I catch glimpses of him and his rider through cracked windows and wonder if there’s a way back into town to save Bishop’s family.
“Eh, he’s like an amnesiac cat with a new toy. He’ll be there until the next new soul arrives and distracts him,” she says. “Don’t worry, you’re safe for the moment.”
We walk down the main aisle between the pews, then weave past the altar and enter a side room, perhaps an old office, dusty and overflowing with books and cobwebs. An elongated stained glass window rises on one wall, casting a design of rich colors on the wood floor. Perpetua lowers me into a large wingback chair.
Now that I’ve had two seconds to collect my thoughts, I remember why I’m here. “Have you seen Terease?”
She nods, opens a drawer, and pulls out a towel.
“Is she—”
“Dead? Ha!” She shakes her head. “That old cockroach would survive a nuclear attack.” She pours water from a pitcher into a basin, dampens the towel, and then uses it to dab at my forehead where I’m bleeding.
“So you’ve seen her?”
“Yeah. Been waiting for you since she arrived.”
“Waiting?”
“Apparently you two have something to discuss,” she says with a quizzical expression. “I’m sure she’s on her way. You’ve practically warned all of Nocturna that you’re here. Didn’t you notice the bands around the moon?”
I frown with confusion. “Does that mean something?”
“The black ring, it means there’s a new soul that shouldn’t be here, which means the Reaper wants you dead, not just your soul.”
“Figures.” With my luck, this doesn’t surprise me. “What about the other rings?”
“Those are the number of souls taken today. Probably students who decided not to take the Oaths to the Society. Turns out, it’s more like a stay-or-die proposition. If you’re not one hundred percent committed, dedicating your life to the Society, then they don’t want you. Or in my case, if you’re not one hundred percent perfect.” She stands up straight and tosses the bloody towel on the nearby table.
I look down at the floor. “Actually, I think it was Bishop’s family—not students.”
“Sorry.” She huffs and shakes her head. “I didn’t know.” She grabs a jar from the drawer, unscrews the top, and dips her fingers into some thick ointment. She leans in close to rub the salve on the wound at my hairline.
“What about your team, Stu and Jess? Did they…” My words drift off as I realize I might not like the answer to my question.
Perpetua immediately stiffens and pulls away. “Stu’s here.” She swallows hard. “Jess—she, she didn’t make it to shore.” Her black eyes turn away from me to gaze uneasily around the room, then they glass over. Even if the Reaper has taken her soul, it’s obvious he hasn’t taken her emotions. But she pulls herself together quickly, a
dopting a stoic expression, and busies herself clearing her workspace, returning everything to its proper place.
“Sorry.” For the first time ever, I want to give Perpetua a genuine hug. Something I never dreamed that I would do considering how horrible she’s been to me in the past, but as I stand, someone screams.
Two dark silhouettes battle outside the stained glass window. From what I can discern, one is the Reaper, mounted on his horse-beast. He slices the air with his scythe as the other person flips over the weapon, right before they crash through the church window. Colored glass implodes and Perpetua and I duck, shielding our faces. The woman rolls across the floor, pops up, and grabs us.
“Run!” she screams.
Two flaming arrows fly through the missing window’s frame. One explodes on impact, the resulting concussion launching us into the air, and we collapse near a row of pews.
There’s no time to recover, so I sit up and brush debris from my body, lean over, and retch from the suffocating smoke.
Before I can compose myself, Terease stands over me. “Took you long enough.” She extends her hand. “With your, shall we say, insatiable curiosity, I would’ve thought you’d arrive much sooner.” She pulls me to my feet.
“You could’ve saved me the trip by just telling me the truth when you had the chance.” I brush bits of debris from my body and straighten my jacket.
“You weren’t ready,” she says in her thick accent. “But I can see that you are now.” She looks me over but doesn’t engage my eyes with her painful dark fire the way she used to. Instead, she waves for Perpetua and me to follow her.
Behind the altar, between two icon statues, spiral stairs twist their way into the earth. We follow Terease as she descends into the silent darkness, away from the frustrated roar of the Reaper and the crackling and popping of the burning church.
Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy) Page 2