About me.
I had enough control to set the mug of tea on my bedside desk before I threw my arms around her neck. Burying my nose into her sweater, staining it with tears, I wondered how many times I could cry so hard in one day.
“It's okay,” she soothed into my ear. “Everything is okay, Gale. Don't worry, this stuff, it will all pass. It's just relationships, they're complicated.”
Yes, I thought, my head throbbing with the shame of everything I had done. Yes, it's just complicated.
That's all it ever is.
****
Becky tried to convince me to skip class the next day. My head was buzzing too much to risk being alone.
Dragging myself out of bed, stumbling through a shower that couldn't get hot enough to burn away my memories, I somehow found myself making it through a day that was inappropriately sunny.
In English class, all I did was stare at the pointedly empty chair where Ethlyn had been sitting beside me.
Nethiun told me it wouldn't take him long to heal his wounds, will it be the same for Ethlyn? Is it different because of... because of what I did to him?
Looking down at my hands, I clenched them till my forearms ached. Then, I spread my fingers like flowers uncurling in spring.
There was no blood, no strange blue energy coating my pale skin. Even so, it was all I could see when I stared.
Class ended without me noticing it had started. As people shuffled out, laughing and preparing for their evening, I felt more detached from the world than ever.
Feeling eyes on me, I glanced up to find Valenforth standing in front of me in the empty room.
Licking my lips, my voice cracked. “How is he?” I didn't need to say who he was.
“I suppose you should know,” he sighed. “Ethlyn is not doing so well.” I grimaced openly, which encouraged him to lift a hand to halt anything I might have said. “He's healing, so I think he will be fine, but the damage he took... it's not something I've seen before.”
Half-rising from my chair, I stood there, stuck in the middle of deciding to sit or to stand. “Do you know what happened? Did he tell you?”
The serious, intense look in his dark eyes was enough to tell me he did. It was also enough to make me fall back in my chair. “I didn't mean to, you know.”
“I know,” he said softly. “Gale, what you did to Ethlyn was unprecedented. It was beyond even what we, source twaelin, can do to our servants.”
“How—how do you mean?”
“Mn. Well, when we create our servants, they are born from a piece of our own energy. If we want them gone,” he said, lifting a hand and closing it in the air on some invisible object, “we will them away, or destroy them if we must, but the energy is ours and returns to us.” Hesitating, he lowered his arm to his side. “What you did to him, it took his energy, his very being, and just... removed it.”
Crinkling my brow, I squinted at him. “I don't get it, removed it how?”
Valenforth reached out, touching a finger to my shoulder. At first, I thought it was an awkward gesture of sympathy. But then I felt the tingle, the flow of power, and flinched.
He reacted worse, jerking away with a wide-eyed stare of panic. Panic, yes, that's how Ethlyn looked last night.
Trembling, sweat slid down my back. “What was that?”
He laughed, a high pitched noise that felt out of place. “It's what I thought, that's all. You somehow stole the energy from him. Part of Ethlyn is inside of you now.”
My stomach twisted, cold and tight. “Inside of me, I don't...”
“This is beyond what I even suspected,” he said quietly, his voice heated with excitement. I'd never seen him like this.
I didn't like it.
“What did you suspect?” I asked nervously, grabbing my backpack. Something about his mood made me anxious, enough to get me on my feet.
The Corpse King stared at me, his smile smoothing to something calmer. “Gale, I knew you had some sort of power in you. Something that let you sense us, that drew us to you. I still don't know the details yet, but I have... a strong suspicion. But let me ask you something, now.”
He stepped towards me, closing the gap. His aura was ominous, I fought the desire to step backwards.
“Gale, what do you want to do with this power you have, the ability to kill, actually kill, the twaelin?”
“I—nothing,” I blurted, shaking my head side to side. “I don't want to do anything.”
“Nothing? You must want something.”
He's right, I do. “I just want everyone to leave me alone. And I don't want to hurt anyone, ever again. That's all I want.”
He brushed his fingers through his hair, considering me while the corners of his mouth tightened. “And if someone wants to hurt you, what then?”
Inside my chest, my ribs felt like they were crushing my heart. “Who would want to hurt me?”
“Answer the question. If someone did, or if they wanted to hurt someone you loved, what then?”
My palms were slick as I rubbed them over my thighs. “Am I hearing you right? Are you implying that... with a power that can kill twaelin... that I should worry about them wanting to hurt me, or people I care about?” Lowering my eyebrows, I fought down my swell of worry. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said quickly, managing to look insulted and empathetic. “I see why you'd think that. Forgive me. I am certainly warning you that others may try.”
“There are no others.” My words were hard, crisp as an apple but far more sour. “If not you, and with Ethlyn out of commission, who would try to hurt me?”
That stare, that hot, implicit stare...
I knew who he was talking about.
“He wouldn't, Nethiun would never hurt me.” My brain rambled, spitting out every reasoning I could find. It was easy to justify my brave belief. I loved the blonde man too much to even think he'd consider harming me.
Valenforth looked away, staring out the window at the fading sunlight. It was one of the last warm days of October. Somehow, realizing that made everything so much more grim. “Perhaps not. I can't say. He's a servant, like Ethlyn. If his Mistress tells him to do something, he will do it.”
“But why would she want to hurt me, or anyone else? What have I even done?”
The Corpse King closed his eyes, then turned back to me with such a morose scowl I went speechless. “It is more likely what you can do, if I were to guess.”
What I can do, what I can... Looking down, I stared at my hands again. He's telling me she's scared of what I can do. Of course.
I can kill them, they should all be terrified of me. Even if I don't want to do anything to them, not at all, they know I can.
SHE knows I can.
“I need to go.” Shouldering my bag, I turned to hurry from the room.
“Gale,” he said behind me. “Remember, I've told you before. If you ever need any help, I'm here for you.”
I almost didn't respond. Yet, Valenforth had been kinder to me than I had ever expected. Thinking about his warnings, how he had loaned me the book, how he had brought that sparrow I had killed back to life...
Looking over at him, I flashed a frail smile. It was all I had in me. “I know. Thank you.”
****
With everything that had happened, there was one person I wanted to talk to more than anything.
Standing in the hall of the dorms, leaning against the wall phone, I listened to the ringing impatiently.
Come on, come on.
The click of the line answering was sharp, it made my chest tight. “Hello? Who's calling?”
Pleasant, familiar, my mom's voice was exactly what I needed. I only wi
shed I could have seen her in person.
“Hi, Mom. It's me.”
“Gale! I'm so glad you called! Sorry we haven't talked in awhile, work has been crazy with these new interns, and—”
“It's fine,” I said, smiling at how frazzled she was. I probably get it from her, how funny. “How are you, Mom?”
“Oh, you know. The usual.” Chuckling, I heard her fiddling with something. “I'm going in for my night shift in a bit, so just getting ready to eat. You've been eating, right?”
Holding my stomach, I felt the cramps muted by my lack of appetite. “Sure have.”
“Good, good. So what else is new, is school good? You decide on your major yet?”
“No, not yet. Uh, classes are okay though.” My teacher is an immortal changeling! “Nothing special.”
She made some small, understanding noises of sympathy. “Any new friends, or I don't know, boys?”
Opening my mouth, I bit my tongue instead of speaking. My hesitation made her giggle with glee. “Stop, Mom, don't laugh at me.”
“I'm not! I swear, I'm not. It's just nice to think about you meeting someone. Is he smart, funny? Handsome?”
“Um, all of those, I guess.” And he can fly, Mom. Aren't you proud of me? “Mom, can I ask you something—and it might sound weird—but, um.” How do I ask this?
“Go on, honey.”
Sliding down to the floor, I used my backpack as a squishy seat. “If I told you something was wrong with me, would you think I was nuts?”
“Wrong? Wrong how? Baby, are you sick? Tell me if you're sick, I—I couldn't handle the thought of you, and if, you know, if you—”
“No, no,” I said quickly, trying to calm down her manic tumble of worries. “I don't think sick is the right word. I just... I don't know. I think I'm weird, Mom.” Hearing myself say it, I gave a weak laugh.
Her giggle was even more fragile than mine. “Oh, Gale. Everyone is a little weird. I'm weird too, you know that.”
Smiling, I felt something tugging at my brain. A question I had never wanted to ask about, but thinking of Nethiun, of his prying into my past, it was on my lips all too quick. “What about Dad?”
Her frown seeped into her voice. “What about him?”
“Well, was he weird, too?”
“Your father... honey, you know I don't like to talk about him.”
“I know,” I mumbled. She never did, and I stopped caring about it as I got older, but... “Things have been kind of different lately, Mom. I'm noticing stuff about myself. So, I don't know, shot in the dark. But if you can tell me about him, I'd like to know.”
“I can't,” she said bluntly. “And I won't. Honey, he abandoned us. The day you were born, he was gone. I don't know where he went, and I don't want to anymore. Okay?”
Chewing down on my thumb nail, I was glad she couldn't see my dirty look. “Okay.”
Sighing into the receiver, she softened her tone. “Gale, I'm sorry. It's just not worth talking about. Anything you're going through, I can help you with.”
I wish you could, Mom. I really do.
“I love you,” she said suddenly.
“Hey, Mom. I love you too.” I sensed a fraction of relief on the line, my belly itching with guilt at the thought of her fretting over the idea of me being upset with her. “Next time, I'll tell you all about the guy I'm seeing,” I added cheerfully.
Her whistle lightened the mood further. “I'll hold you to that. I need to head to work now, chat with you soon, alright?”
“Yeah, alright.” The line went silent, so I rose to my feet and hung the phone back up.
Talking to her had made me feel a little better. It also hadn't answered any questions.
Glancing out a window, seeing that the daylight was still there, I decided to get some air to clear my head.
Wandering out into the fresh wind, I inhaled deeply. Absently, I ended up at the edge of campus on the middle of the grassy hill.
It was as good a place as any to be alone.
Sitting in the fading sun did little for my gloom. My head was stuck, running in circles with the worries that gnawed my brain.
Mom says we're all weird. Too bad I couldn't tell her I'm more than that.
That I can kill these 'immortal' beings, that I'm a threat; dangerous.
What do I do about this? How do I make it clear I don't want to be involved, that I'm not out to hurt any of them?
My hair was particularly wild that day, not obeying the forceful smoothing I put it through as my idle nerves took over.
I need to talk to Nethiun, I...
As if bidden by my silent plea, the twaelin rippled into existence beside me where I sat on the grass.
Stunned by his blatant appearance, I shot my eyes around with worry. “Nethiun! You scared me, I—be more careful. Someone might have seen you do that.”
Standing over me, his form blocking out the last bit of sun in the late hour, he spoke without any hint of emotion. “Forgive me.”
Blinking, I settled back down, a level of comfort arising with his presence. “It's fine, it looks like everyone is inside anyway.”
He didn't nod, didn't move much at all. “How are you feeling today?”
“Pretty bad,” I admitted with a bitter chuckle. “It was torture, not being able to explain things to Becky. I just wanted to tell her what was going on, but she wouldn't understand. You know?”
“I know,” he agreed softly.
Standing carefully on the slope, I dusted the grass off my pants and slung my bag over my arm. “I talked with Valenforth, he said Ethlyn wasn't doing so great.”
Nethiun was so still, his hair even resisted the breeze. Reaching up, I blocked my tangled strands from getting in my eyes. He seems quiet today.
My paranoia bubbled. “Nethiun, what's wrong?”
Watching me closely, his eyes didn't have the pretense of human shine to them. “Many things. Let's go elsewhere, it would be better.” He extended a hand, slim fingers tempting me.
Valenforth's warning screamed in my mind. “No, tell me what happened, first. I know you had to have told her. Didn't you?”
He didn't have the good grace to look phased. “I did.”
“So then stop dancing around, what did she say?”
The twaelin didn't do anything to offer his hand more, but I felt his silent pressure as he stared at me. “Come with me, and we can talk.”
Maybe I was foolish. I wanted so badly to think that Nethiun would keep me safe.
I was in love, how could I be blamed?
Reaching out, I slid my small hand into his. It closed down, tight as a bear trap.
Shutting my eyes, I braced myself for the sickening sensation of jetting through time and space.
The grey world and lack of sound, the violent tugging inside of me... it managed to feel less disorienting.
And then we were standing on that familiar patch of ocean, the place he had taken me flying.
Tugging my hand from his, I turned on the soft sand to face him. “Why are we here? Why so far, just to talk?”
“I want to do more than talk.” In the wind, his crisp white shirt ruffled. Seeing it so clean, so in tact, reminded me of how beaten up he had been last night. It also made me wonder where he got his clothes.
“You do heal fast,” I whispered.
Glancing down, he touched his hand to his ribs. “I do. You said Ethlyn was not?”
“Valenforth said that, yes... Nethiun, do you know what this all means? I was told, today, that I can—I really can kill the twaelin.” Placing a palm on my stomach, I shut my eyes, focusing. “Valenforth said I took Ethlyn's energy into me, that I had a part of him, now. I don't feel it,
though. I can't feel anything at all.”
Again, he gave me tense silence.
Nethiun was so different than he'd been before. The distance felt so huge, a wall between us that was cold and empty.
“Please tell me what happened,” I said desperately, unable to handle this side of him.
Those pale eyes lifted to mine, then moved out over the ocean. The water was calm, there was no storm to make it rage. “Let's go flying.”
“I—what? Now?”
Reaching forward, he coiled me into his arms like I weighed nothing. I didn't have a chance to argue. He jumped us upwards, darting through the cool air.
My hair whipped around, tugging at my scalp. I couldn't hold back the excitement that shook me, but my eyes were stuck on his face.
There was no joy there.
For some time, he glided us through the fading light of sunset. With my arms around his neck, I hung on tight, a terrible hole growing inside of me.
What is wrong, why is he acting like this?
“Nethiun,” I said into his ear, over the whistle of our speed. “Take us back, you said we would talk.”
“Don't you want to fly, to spend time just—”
“No,” I said sharply. “Not like this. I need to know what's wrong.”
Slowing us over the gentle waves, he hugged me against him. Stoic as before, there was the first hint of raw emotion touching his low voice.
“Everything is wrong, Gale.”
The flight back to land was torturous, all delight gone in something I'd treasured.
Nethiun settled onto the sand, the ground turning blue as night began clawing in around us. Carefully, I climbed down beside him. “We can't do this, Nethiun. You need to talk to me... please.”
For the first time since he'd appeared, a smile spread on his lips. It was not a happy smile, the edges were like twisted metal. “I'm afraid of telling you, of admitting the horrible truth. It will be over, Gale, once I tell you what's been said.”
The thrum of my heart was a staccato beat. His profile, hard and turned partially away, was a cold thing. Sad, he's sad.
Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance) Page 20