Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance)

by Brint, Cynthia

That wasn't a pleasant memory. Standing, I brushed the rest of the bread to the ground, scaring some birds into the air. “I didn't. So this is about how she's missing, and you seem to think I know where she is.”

  How have they not found her body yet?

  Frowning hard, Remmy tapped his book. “There are two people that I think might have some idea of her location. You're one of them.”

  I knew who the other was.

  Becky was pleading at me with her eyes. I was sure she felt I knew something. It was not a position I wanted to be in. “Are you going to arrest me as a suspect?”

  Bristling overtly, the detective looked me up and down. “Not right now, no. We're just looking for some help.”

  “That is where this ends, then.” Inhaling slowly, I slipped around them and began walking from the park. “I'm not able to assist you.”

  “Wait a minute!” Remmy shouted, but I kept going.

  My goal was to get to a secluded place and simply flash away. I was tempted to just do it, what would it matter if they saw?

  It does matter, though. Inherently, it would be no good to do that. A basic thing, but one that can't go back in the hat once it is out.

  Heels pounded on the ground, Becky's panting labored when she ran up beside me. “Nethiun, wait, please!”

  Glancing at her, I kept going.

  The girl walked beside me, trailing me across the commons. “Please, talk to me. I won't even tell the detective anything, I just need to know where she is. I need to know—they told me, she...”

  Her voice broke, slowing me down. “They told you she what?”

  Becky shook her head, unable to speak. Covering her mouth, tears glistened in her round eyes.

  Forcing myself to stop, I turned, facing her. “Tell me, tell me what they're saying.”

  I could see her skin trembling, taste her pungent terror. Her voice was muffled behind her palms. “I heard they found her boots, on a beach, hours from here.”

  They found her shoes, but...

  “But no body,” I whispered.

  Her nod was violent, curls flying. “Nethiun, why would her shoes be out there? Where is she, Nethiun? Nethiun!”

  The suspicion I had was an awful one. Someone took her body. Why would they...

  I hurried off campus, not turning back to answer Becky's shouts.

  Chapter 22.

  Gale Everette

  My dream was safe, I didn't want to wake from it. In it, I was wrapped tight by arms; arms that held me, protected me.

  Arms that would never let me go.

  Sensual lips touched my cheeks, my eyelids, kissed me places I'd never imagined.

  It was perfect, so perfect.

  Why would I want to awaken?

  The thing that pulled at me, tore into me until something grew and rose higher... That thing demanded I stop dreaming.

  Resisting was not an option.

  The scream rippled out of me, grating along my throat until everything was raw. I felt like my very skin was being tugged at from the inside out.

  Breathing, it was new all over again.

  The warmth that had been inside of me, it burned hot, jolted down my legs. With it, now, I felt something else.

  A foreign, searing nodule that pulsed in my guts. What is this... what am I...?

  Opening my eyes, the world felt far more dulled than I thought it had once been. Once been, yes. That's right.

  Sitting up with a gasp, my voice hoarse, I grabbed at my abdomen. Hadn't I been hurt, hadn't there been so much pain?

  Didn't I die?

  “You're probably a little disoriented.”

  Wrenching around, I spotted the face that matched that voice. Valenforth stood on the other side of the small room.

  It was dark, the only light coming from an open doorway. Shifting, I heard the squeak of springs. I was on an unfamiliar bed. A firm object bumped my elbow, the canvas telling me it was my backpack.

  “What happened?” I whispered, touching my throat. It still felt full of tiny cuts, like I'd been screaming for hours.

  In the dim light, his dark eyes looked like empty sockets. “Gale Everette, you were murdered.”

  Closing my eyes, I ran my hands carefully over my face, my hair. I felt whole, and when I tugged at my red strands, I experienced a burst of pain.

  His news didn't surprise me. Behind a wall that deafened everything, I felt little in the way of reaction. “Did I really? Then how am I here?”

  He approached me carefully. I could sense it, his uncertainty. “I brought you back.”

  Looking at my hands, I saw sand under my nails. “How?”

  Valenforth exhaled softly, his shadow falling over me. “I'm the Corpse King, remember?”

  My thoughts were sluggish, but at his words, I saw the distant memory of a bird. A bird I'd crushed under my heel. Yes, that happened, of course. “I do remember. So you actually brought me back to life.”

  My brain felt swollen, stuffed with cotton. Holding my temples, I squinted, desperate. “Why can't I remember how I died? Why is that gone?”

  I should... remember something like that.

  “Your memory will be choppy as a result of coming back to life. I had to put some of my energy into you to make it happen, it's no doubt messing with things a bit.”

  “A bit,” I said. “I feel... numb. Fine. I can't remember, but I wouldn't doubt that you know how this happened to me.”

  “I told you, Gale. You were murdered.”

  He stood in the doorway, blocking the light, the sight oddly reminiscent. “You said that,” I agreed. “Tell me who did it.”

  Bending close, Valenforth whispered, a secret just for me. “You were killed by the Queen of Dreams herself.”

  Inside of me, I felt a prickle. “She did this?”

  “Yes, do you recall? My warnings about her?”

  Nodding slowly, the memories surfaced bit by bit. He told me to watch out for her, that she would be threatened by me... because I could—I could actually kill her.

  Again, my hands drew my eyes. “She murdered me, because of what I could do.”

  His voice was a hush. “Yes.”

  I chuckled, feeling jaded. “And you brought me back because of what I can do.”

  Valenforth bowed his head to me, so near, I was surprised I couldn't smell him. Or anything. “You are very correct, Gale.”

  My name felt alien on his lips, like I'd prefer if someone else were saying it. Turning, I slid off the bed, testing my legs to see if they would hold me. The bare bottoms of my feet felt the coarse fibers of the rug. I found I was dressed in jeans, as well as a simple purple sweater that was clean, intact. Are these mine? I can't recall. What happened to my shoes?

  There was so much I didn't get, I might as well have woken up as somebody else entirely. Woken up, brought back from the dead. All so Valenforth could... could...

  I stared back at him, the mattress between us. “You're going to ask me to do to her what only I can, aren't you?”

  His smirk was brittle as ice. “How astute.”

  “Not really. Why waste time bringing me back to life, if she's only going to snuff me out again? You want me to get rid of her.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Why should it?” I peered at him like he'd said something extremely odd. “You told me she killed me. If you're giving me a chance to erase my murderer, I don't see why I'd struggle.”

  Cocking his head, Valenforth took me in all over again. “You seem more blunt than I remember. More accepting, maybe.”

  Clenching my fingers, I took long steps until I pushed by him and through to the hallway. “It probably has to do with the fact I'm a
walking corpse.”

  Am I really a corpse? He didn't deny it, didn't explain. Maybe he doesn't care what I think.

  It probably doesn't matter.

  Looking side to side, I realized where I was. The familiar study, packed with books, made it clear. His house, then.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked, standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Nothing.” That isn't entirely true, I feel like there's something I SHOULD be looking for. Something I want. Why can't I remember? “Will my memory go back to normal?”

  Valenforth followed me down the hall. “It might, especially once you kill the Queen of Dreams.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “She murdered you, I believe destroying her will help knock into place what's missing.”

  Pausing at the top of the stairs, I eyed the tall man as he stood behind me. “I'll be honest, I don't care about your reasons anymore. I'm fine with taking her out, like I said. But why do you want her dead? What did she do to you?”

  He stared me down, a sight that pulled out a memory; the time I'd been afraid of him. Now, I just looked back at him, patient.

  Chuckling, he gave his head a quick shake. “You're astounding. Fine. Telling you won't change anything.”

  I wonder what would change things?

  “I want her dead,” he said carefully, “because I want all the twaelin dead.”

  Blinking, I sat down on the top step. It seemed appropriate. “All of them? But there are so few of you, why does it matter?”

  “The power of the undying, it doesn't sit well with me.”

  “You realize you're a twaelin as well?”

  Snorting, Valenforth leaned on the wallpaper across from me. “A fact that's haunted me. I hate the twaelin, it's why I penned that book about them.”

  That black book, he wrote it? I fought a desire to go back into the bedroom, grabbing my backpack where the tome rested inside still. “You wanted me to read it and hate them too, didn't you?”

  His hair rustled as he nodded. “Correct.”

  Scratching my neck, I fought through the waves of fog. “But—but then you must have known, even then, that I was capable of killing you, killing them?”

  “No. I suspected you were going to be capable of something, since the Queen of Dreams was watching you. I had only a glimmer of an idea when I met you and felt the power in you.”

  His timeline bothered me, but I couldn't grasp why. Digging at it, I recalled cruel gold eyes, a little girl under a falling sign, warm arms.

  “My skull is pounding,” I groaned.

  “That will happen. Perhaps we should take a break from this. Are you hungry?”

  “Not at all,” I said, rubbing my belly. That's weird too, right? “I'm not ready to stop yet. I want clarification. I kill this Queen for you, and then what?”

  “And then you will be safe from her, you could live a normal life.”

  Finally, what a concept. But there's more that he wants, I can see it. “No. And then what?”

  Sighing, he folded his hands in his lap. “Then you will kill me.”

  “You?”

  “Me.”

  Laughing, I slid my hair off my forehead. “You really want to die?”

  “Living forever is less wonderful than you might think. I've had a long life.”

  Raising my fingers, I made a tight fist. “I could end it now, then.”

  Flashing me a bemused look, he chuckled. “No, I think not. The Queen, then me. Then it is done.”

  The base of my head buzzed, thoughts begging to be heard. “Wait. Wasn't there... another one of you?”

  He eyed me, silent.

  “Yeah. Yeah, there was another guy. You told me you didn't know where he was anymore—Creation, yes. What about him, you don't want him dead?”

  Pushing off the wall, Valenforth moved past me down the stairs. “Forget about that. It isn't important.”

  Frowning at his back, I watched him until he vanished downstairs. Not important? Hardly.

  Trailing after him, I found him standing in front of the wide glass doors of his living room. Outside, it was the bruised color of night.

  Drawing up beside him, I looked out at the thick forest. “When are we supposed to do this?”

  Valenforth folded his arms behind his back, considering my questions. “Tomorrow. I need to bring Ethlyn back, first.”

  “Oh.” I'd forgotten entirely about him. Like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, I pushed him into place. “What happened to him?”

  “He was destroyed. He's been rather... unstable. I wanted to bring him back closer to the time we would attack, to avoid problems.”

  Blinking, I stared at my own reflection. “What kind of problems?”

  “Nothing to worry about. I can summon him now, if you'd like to watch.”

  I shrugged halfheartedly. “Fine.”

  The twaelin peered at me, making me wonder what he was mulling over. In the end, he opened the doors, gesturing outside. “Then let's begin.”

  ****

  I knew, logically, I should have felt cold sitting outside in only some jeans and a sweater. Especially with my feet naked, toes wiggling.

  Instead, I just felt... bored.

  “How long does this take?” I asked, folding my arms and eyeballing Valenforth.

  He stood in the back of his yard, just before the tree line. There were no lights around, and in my memory of driving with him that one time, I didn't remember seeing any homes close by.

  Shooting an irritated glare at me, the man lifted his arms over his head. “It will be over soon. I should give you a warning. Ethlyn won't look the way he did before.”

  “Why wouldn't he—” I know this, I should know this.

  “That body is gone,” he grunted. “He'll be reborn to look as he did the first time I created him, his default.”

  Only one thing he'd said clicked with me. The body he had, when he called himself Ethan... yes, that's right. Skin-changing, that's what they're capable of.

  I didn't like having gaps in my memories. Walking through them, I kept finding myself stepping into holes, knowing there should have been more there.

  Maybe they really will return, like he said.

  A glow spun around Valenforth, fingers of energy that wove together like a fishing net. One by one, they grew brighter. Coiling around his body, they whipped around his forearms, his chest, before finally centering in on his stomach.

  There, the color became a blue that resonated with me. I'd seen it, somewhere before. I had seen that color.

  That energy.

  Vibrating, it shrank, his arms lowering as if to cradle it. Even as numb as I was, this was a sight that intrigued me. Looking away was impossible.

  It flickered, that light, becoming smaller. It looked like Valenforth could close his hands, crushing the orb into nothingness.

  When he finally did, I held my breath. For a moment, the glow was gone. Reddish heat shone inside his clasped fingers, thumping, like a heart.

  Finally, in a great, jerking motion, he ripped his arms apart. That tiny ball of power, it glimmered blue.

  And then it grew.

  Staring, I looked on while the energy took the shape of something with arms, legs; something human.

  From the head, long strands of hair grew. They waved, like someone drowning under the water.

  The radiance began to fade, revealing more of a defined body. Sculpted, firm... superb.

  His face was square, jaw stronger than Ethan's had been; age-wise, they still seemed similar. That flowing hair began to fall to his shoulders, subdued by gravity, black as tar.

  For a moment, his entire
form was visible from toe to skull. I saw... everything. Distantly, I thought that the me from before, the girl who had not endured death and returned, would have covered her face and blushed.

  Now, I only looked on curiously.

  His bare feet touched the ground, arms hanging posed at his sides. When Ethlyn opened his eyes, they were no longer that burning gold.

  Clear, blue, they focused on me. I didn't think they truly saw me, he seemed half-asleep.

  Valenforth bent down, speaking softly into the man's ear. I couldn't hear, I only watched as Ethlyn shut his eyes, a look of deep pain crossing his gentle features.

  When the Corpse King backed away, the servant lifted his head. The tortured eyes of a man who'd suffered so much stared back at me.

  Where does his sadness come from?

  Raising his arms, he inhaled until his chest shook. Around him, strands of blue circled, shifting to become the threads of clothing.

  In minutes, Ethlyn was dressed in faded jeans and a dark grey sweater. His feet wore shiny black boots, a fact I was a little envious about.

  I wondered where they got their clothes from. They're made from THEM, from their own energy. Interesting.

  It was a pointless mystery, but it had been solved.

  “Gale,” he said softly, voice breaking. Valenforth placed his long fingers onto the younger man's shoulder, as if comforting him. Ethlyn flinched, glancing up at the twaelin, then back to me slowly. “It's... it's good to see you.”

  Unsure what to say, I bobbed my head. “Yeah, you too.” He looks so different from when I saw him last—when did I see him last?

  Fighting with my brain, a slippery thing, the imagery of sitting with Ethlyn and drinking cocoa on campus floated up. Is that right? Was it then? Time feels so strange now.

  “I told Gale that we'll be attacking the Queen of Dreams tomorrow. I'd like to go over the plan with both of you.” Pausing, Valenforth eyed us. “Shall we go inside?”

  Ethlyn shrugged the man off of him, turning and pushing through the sliding glass doors of the house.

  Valenforth dropped his arms to his belt, staring after the other twaelin. “Come along, Gale.”