House of Slide Hybrid

by Juliann Whicker

  Chapter 20

  Trees flew by as I rode, caught in the wind as it threw me forward. The scream of the monster beneath me pierced the night, pierced my ears as I rode, hunting.

  The darkness split leaving a smoldering wreck in front of me, the smell of burning, of blood filled the night. What was left of the silver plane was in pieces scattered beneath trees, most of it crumpled like an empty tin can.

  I leapt from the monster, stepping through the metal like it was mist until I stood inside the belly of the ruined beast, trembling. I knelt then touched a face wet with blood, head lolling but still attached to the neck. My fingers smoothed down the neck to shoulders, covered in blood but still whole, still untouched. The skin on the chest was ripped open, the ribs split, leaving muscle, cartilage and protruding bone exposed to the air that grew thicker, heavier, richer with her blood.

  A sound escaped my throat, a harsh groan that spoke of all the emotion and depth possible for a heart to hold as I gathered the body in my arms, wrapping it in mist, in darkness that dissolved the metal that had her pinned.

  Trembling hands carried the body, a small broken figure, out into the night where the monster waited, snorting, pawing as it smelled the demons and craved their end.

  The darkness crawled over the ground, a mist that was alive with anger, fear, coalescing around me as I mounted the monster and rode through the woods, faster than thought, brushing by phantom trees, through darkness that became nothing other than mist that obscured everything, bubbling, burning mist that dissolved space and time.

  As creatures of night we stepped out of the mist and crossed over the stony ground while cliffs rose around me. The monster ran effortlessly, soundlessly, over the stone and shale, its claws finding purchase where there should have been none.

  I slid off the beast while it rolled its black eyes at me, screaming as I held the body against my chest and climbed up to the house where it dangled over the gorge, running as lightly and effortlessly as a bird riding the breeze to its nest. The leap from the side of the cliff to the door was hardly a breath and then I was there, inside the house that looked untouched, familiar, like the forgotten pack beside the stone bed still piled with blankets that Aiden had brought.

  I slowly lowered the body to the bed, the blood gone along with clothes leaving nothing but the layers of flesh peeled back to show crushed bones. Naked was the wrong word, not when there was so little skin left below the shoulders except for one arm, still flawless with neatly clipped nails, as Snowy had made them.

  I left the body, striding through the room to a cupboard in the stone that was impossible to see unless you already knew it was there, opened it to remove a box as long as the forearm that lifted it. Back to the bed I opened the box and searched through the contents. It was a medical kit with the usual scalpels and needles, but everything glowed indigo. There were packets, jars with mysterious substances, needles that were carefully labeled with words like, “enhancement” and “agility” along with a sheaf of papers held together with a piece of twine.

  I pushed the papers, needles and packets to the side, searching the depths for something else. There was a vial made out of glass hidden in the depths with what looked like mercury spinning inside, silver, alive with motion and what seemed like awareness. I held it gingerly between my fingers, my scarred thumb uncapping it releasing the scent of life mixed with death. The combination was so bewildering and strong I fought a gag reflex, taking a deep breath before I put it to the lips of the unconscious girl, tipping her head back so that the substance spilled across her tongue. I bent my head over the lifeless girl, pressing my mouth to hers with the taste of shadows on my tongue, of death and autumn as dark mist spread around, visible in my periphery, until I closed my eyes, lost in a kiss that was death or birth.

  A gasp that ached to hear, when the lungs were so misshapen, was followed by swallowing movement of a throat with nowhere to swallow as she took the mists. The blood shadows burned as they passed from my mouth to hers, until only traces were left on my tongue. Still my mouth stayed pressed against hers, trembling as her lips flexed beneath mine.

  ***

  The taste of tar covered grass might have described some shape of the revolting, compelling, everything nothing that was alive inside my mouth when I woke gasping to pain that crawled inside of me, pain that woke my body as awareness oozed its way down my throat, down my chest, stomach, awakened and screamed at me to stop, stop, stop because there was too much to comprehend as every single nerve inside my body was shattered and I had to feel it. I needed to be unconscious.

  Too much pain.

  I gasped again as the pain crept lower to legs that twitched and jerked as the pain, the pain consumed my mind, ripped through thought and feeling and who I was until there was nothing but pain swallowing me, inside, outside, everything one burning agony. Death. Please death. Too much.

  The bond ache grew in my throat as the taste of death filled my mouth, the taste of ecstasy that for a moment dampened the pain that was my body, returning to life. I struggled to inhale as deeply as I could, taking the Nethermist into my crushed lungs, to absorb Lewis and the Nether, both one need, one craving that eclipsed the pain that was my existence. His mouth on my mouth, his breath mixed with my breath, his heart beating against mine, made my throat ache with the blood bond. I wanted more, to complete the bond which would distract me from the rest of my body, my world where it writhed.

  The Nethermist streaked through my body, a complete circuit combining our two hearts, his beating rapidly, mine barely managing a quiet thump without pressure, with so little blood to push, so few arteries returning to the heart. He pulled away, ending the kiss, taking away the taste of Nethermist and leaving me alone with the pain.

  “Dari,” he whispered, words without meaning before he turned my face to the stone then sliced me open, fresh starts of pain as he runed me as I lay there, unable to die, unable to faint, unable to do more than scream on the inside. I couldn’t scream without breath, couldn’t breathe. Time stopped, ended, began again, pain, pain, pain was the world, with no escape. It pierced through me, turning me inside out, my mind aware of every trickle of pain, every nerve as he pulled my skin off my shoulders, around my spine where my first runes held me together, kept me alive.

  I hated the runes that didn’t let me die. I hated Lewis and the Nether, the two who seemed one, who didn’t take his hands and rip off my head, ending the pain, the pain that was endless as it was eternal. End me, please, please, please, I begged inside my head, unable to speak, to scream, to do anything but feel and live when all I wanted was the darkness, the comfortable black that had claimed me after I took the plane down.

  Darkness, light, dark, light, was it days, moments, years, centuries, the pain filled it all, pushing boundaries of sanity, of the ability for my mind to function, to process, to think. There had to be escape, something, somewhere but I couldn’t leave the confines of my body, couldn’t soul flight away, could only suffer, forever.

  When my chest cavity crawled back together, it hurt, sharper, more precise and defined than the pain had been. When my lungs knit themselves together, when I took my first full breath, the pain was sharp, the gasp and sob that rent the air audible with only my right ear.

  My hand came up to hit Lewis, to stop him where he dug around my spine, pouring liquid metal, to stop the pain, to stop the ache, but he only held my hand for a moment as he pressed his lips against my fingers before tucking my arm under me where I could feel the skin and other layers where it hadn’t pulled back yet. My heart lurched unsteadily before it began to beat, thumping quietly, evenly through my body as the runes did their work, the Healing runes he was forcing on me.

  His hands were on my skin, a pressure that fought with the pain, demanding the attention that my mind could almost give him, his touch filling more of my mind as I healed. There was less pain, less until I could pinpoint where it hurt. My left leg, the fingers of my right hand, the right side of my chest,
my lungs that still ached with every breath, all pain that were individual massive agonies instead of one anonymous misery. Still too much, still endless, but different. If there was change perhaps there would be an end. I still wanted death, quick, easy, silent death that would end all pain forever, but he wouldn’t let me.

  Lewis wouldn’t let me die, like Devlin, keeping me alive when I’d been nothing but a shell, like Devlin, lying to me about Old Peter, keeping a wall between us even as he forced me to live, to feel this anguish. Why didn’t he let me die? I screamed but it hurt too much. Whimpering didn’t sear my lungs. How could the person that I’d given my heart to, that I loved and trusted keep me alive, burn me, lie to me, make me suffer? Why didn’t he let me go?

  As the pain became smaller, the questions, the anger grew until I was as full with the aching sickness of betrayal as his hands burned me, hands that I couldn’t help loving, wanting on skin that craved relief.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in a voice that pierced me with his heart ache, wiping away the anger as I felt his pain, his guilt and misery before darkness finally claimed me.

  Chapter 21

  A low murmur, a voice with rich tones and even cadences was the first thing I noticed, then the feel of his hand around mine. The words didn’t make sense, not at first, and I wasn’t sure he was speaking English.

  The pain was there, a low throbbing that danced around the edges of my awareness, but now much more important, more immediate, was the weight of his hand on mine and the aching in my throat.

  “It shouldn’t have been possible for my paintings to fall into his hands. It’s only one of the things that don’t add up. Why would a House like Bliss even talk to a bloodworker? Jason was definitely working with the demon mistress, but did the Wild Houses know about her and still ally with Bliss? Too many Wilds are holding back when the demon are gathering thicker than ever before. Losing hunters to Wilds is an atrocity I wish I could say surprised me. I should have this figured out by now. I hunted them, tracked him, Samaliel the leader of those who attacked Sanders, but the more I think of it, the more it seems he was toying with me to get to you through me. We had a conversation while you melted my borrowed cell phone. I haven’t talked to you enough. I’m not sure where I should be, what I should do. I’m not ready. There’s so much that I need to do to prepare for the coming darkness.”

  My eyes flickered open in time to see the tired look on Lewis’s face transform into a stunning smile. I blinked, slowly. There was something different about him. In spite of the smile he looked exhausted and young.

  “You’re awake. I’m supposed to do something,” he mumbled then seemed to shake himself awake as he grabbed a bowl from the floor, careful not to drop my hand as he lifted the bowl to my lips. I opened my mouth, and let the cool liquid trickle onto my tongue. It wasn’t Spring or Autumn but something else that burned cold.

  Swallowing hurt, the pain in my throat, lungs, chest, and the rest of my bruised and broken body followed, awakened to a sudden roaring that made me gasp, my jagged breathing filled the air while I squeezed his fingers. The liquid numbed me as it spread down, dampening the pain, but I was already finished. The last thing I remembered was his hand squeezing mine while a smile flicked over his face.

  The next time I woke up, all I heard was the rasping of my own shallow breath as my chest rose and fell. His hand still held mine. I could feel his head against my arm through the thin fabric between us. The pain crept up on me, the aching in my throat, the burning bond ache the worst of it. I tried to wiggle my toes, to shift the pain somewhere else, but I couldn’t feel anything. My gasp as I shuddered was enough to wake Lewis.

  “Dari?” he asked, voice anxious.

  I closed my eyes while the pain nibbled, breathing as shallowly as I could. It was impossible to imagine that I’d ever felt anything besides pain, but somehow not being able to feel my toes was worse. Maybe I didn’t have toes anymore. What did that matter though when there were infinite things in this world that could hurt me, when the bond ache was so heavy and harsh I could hardly think of anything else?

  I took a deep breath—ouch, then opened my eyes, wide at him. He looked so tired, so young, like he was the one who’d been in a plane wreck. There was something else about him, something less. It had to do with his eyes, the way that they’d looked after he’d lost his fury. The darkness was gone.

  “Who are you?” I asked, only the rough sounds were hardly words. I felt the pull, the irresistible draw to the pulse at his throat, but he seemed a stranger.

  His face darkened for a moment before he forced a smile, a nice, normal smile that was as hollow and empty as his eyes. “I’m Lewis…”

  “No.” My hand jerked and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught it in hands that trembled. “Something’s wrong with you. Something bad happened to you. What happened, Lewis? What did you do?” My whisper hurt to hear, hurt to use, but I had to know what his sacrifice, my life, had cost him.

  He shrugged like it didn’t matter then said in a voice that sounded half dead, “My mists are gone, used to keep you alive.”

  I whimpered. This was what I feared most, him sacrificing his life for mine, saving my life and leaving me alone. “Are you dying? Is that why you didn’t want to finish the bond, because you knew I would kill you?” I twisted away from him, but I couldn’t move enough to escape his grip.

  “I’m fine. That’s not the problem. I tried, but I couldn’t let you go.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I should have ended your life quickly, painlessly, but instead, I kept you here. The Life runes kept you alive until I found you, my mists were enough to keep you alive, to finish the runes, to make you suffer as I never wanted to…I’m sorry.”

  He sounded sorry, but I only shook my head. “I didn’t ask you to trade your life for mine.”

  He stared at me, unmoving. “The mists will return. One doesn’t stop being half Nether simply by using one’s mists. Don’t let my ‘sacrifice’,” he said with a twist of his lips, “Bother you. It didn’t kill me, simply left me drained.”

  “Half Nether?” I asked, but I was too weak to continue. My head pounded and my vision was more and more blurred. His face was the last thing I saw.

  The next time I woke up, I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want to see Lewis, to realize that we were both at the end of our strength, that only one of us would survive, and that he’d make sure it was me. The bond ache threatened to eat me from the inside while the rest of me thrummed with waking nerves that felt too much. I had healing runes now, thanks to Lewis, but I was healing so much slower than the uncles would have.

  How would he be able to survive without his mists? So many people wanted to kill him; I’d seen it at the Hybrid camp. How could I protect him when I couldn’t even move? I gasped a sob and opened my eyes.

  He didn’t look like the Nether where he sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into the fire as though he didn’t know I woke up. Maybe he didn’t. He gazed unblinking into the flames, the flickering light dancing over his skin, making him look alive, beautiful. My heart ached for a moment worse than the bond craving, more than my slowly healing body.

  He’d brought me back to life—the thought hurt, but at the same time, he looked like I felt, wrung out, broken, lost. I’d brought Grim back to life, begged Lewis to drag him back, Grim who never wanted to live. The thought made me cold, the realization that I’d done something like that to someone so carelessly. I hadn’t known what it would be like for Grim, but Lewis had warned me.

  He’d done it because I needed him to, for a kiss that he’d never collected, a kiss that I wasn’t sure he really wanted. He shouldn’t have brought me back, not when he knew what it would do to me, how I would feel, how un-me it would make me.

  He looked up with no surprise on his features. He’d known I was awake. Of course he knew I was awake. Was there a chance that he’d ever been surprised by anything I’d done? He’d never expected the blue hair. I remembered his smile when
he saw my hair, so different from the pain he now had in his eyes.

  “Aiden is here, if you’d rather he took care of you…” he began.

  Aiden, no, Old Peter was there. Lewis or the Nether would feel how I felt since I hadn’t tried blocking anything, no doubt the whole world knew how I felt, barren, broken, and hateful. Did he think he could leave me with Aiden so he wouldn’t have to watch me, feel me? He must hate me, bringing me back when I should have been dead. Why did he keep looking at me, like there was something to see? His eyes were duller, but still, the firelight caught the gold in them. Even a fraction of what he’d been, he was the most beautiful creature in the world.

  The anger was breathtaking, leaving me dizzy and hungry for death. Not his death, no, that would have been too simple. I wanted him alive, mine to hurt the way he’d hurt me. He’d traded Grim’s life for a kiss, a kiss I’d never given. I wanted that kiss, to sever any ties between us while I paid that debt, then he could leave me here, forever.

  “What about the kiss?” My voice was louder this time.

  I felt a twinge of delight at his confusion. “I don’t know…”

  “I owe you a kiss for bringing back Grim, the way you brought me back. I’d like to pay my debts so I don’t owe you anything.” My words were ice.

  “You want to kiss me, now?” His voice had life for the first time since the crash, life and bewilderment.

  “Now.” My voice trembled on that one word, a betrayal.

  He stared at me for a moment. Would he refuse? He got to his feet, slowly, then moved, not like an old man, but like a tired one. He knelt beside the stone bed, close enough that I could smell his shaving cream. When had he shaved? The idea of Lewis shaving confused me, made me remember his gentleness when washing my hair.

  “I’ll kiss you,” he said, leaning over, barely touching my face with his fingers, “when it doesn’t hurt you.”

  His lips brushed my forehead, the touch so delicate and gentle, but it triggered a fresh wave of pain.