“And how do you know I did it?” I can feel the guy’s eyes shift to me. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you to show up here again. Although, I figured you’d be alone like you always are. Looks like you learned something new since the last time I killed you.”
“Killed?” Blaise bites out the word, stepping forward to charge at the stranger.
“No, don’t.” I latch onto a belt loop in his jeans and dig my heels into the ground, but Blaise throws his weight forward, and I trip, stumbling after him.
The stranger laughs as we near him. “Relax, Blaise, I’m not going to hurt her right now.”
Blaise screeches to an abrupt stop, causing me to plow into him. My cheek smacks against his back, and my palms splay his sides as I steady my balance. Blaise hardly notices the contact, his muscles barely spasm.
“How do you know my name?” he asks. When the guy doesn’t answer, his fingers curl into fists at his sides. “Who are you?”
“Why don’t you ask Allura?” the stranger taunts. “I bet she’s dying to tell you.”
I move up next to Blaise with my shoulders squared, but my stomach clenches with trepidation. “I don’t know who you are, either.”
He mumbles, “Must we go through this every single time?”
Blaise glances at me with his brows furrowed and mouths, “What’s going on?”
I shrug. I want to tell him about how I saw the guy twice in my memories, but I’m unsure if I should say this in front of the stranger.
As if sensing my need for secrecy, Blaise presses two fingers to the corner of my eye, keeping his gaze secured on the stranger.
Okay, what’s going on? he asks. Who is this guy?
I’m not sure. I glance at the stranger from the corner of my eye and find him observing us with curiosity. I’ve seen him in my memories twice. Once he was dragging me to my death, and the other, he … I bottle down my nerves. He killed me.
Blaise snarls with anger flaring in his eyes.
He knew I’d come back to life, I quickly add. He said he killed me a ton of times, but I always came back … And that the Grim couldn’t get ahold of me. Then lives and worlds would be destroyed.
But they’ve already gotten ahold of you.
I know … And maybe that’s why your world was destroyed. The thought throat punches me from out of nowhere, and I suck in a startled breath. Oh, my God, I think I ruined your planet.
Blaise hastily shakes his head. No, there’s no way. It happened way before you or I were born.
I steal a glance at the guy, questioning if he can somehow hear our conversation. Go ahead, his body posture teases. Tell him.
I return my focus back on Blaise, guilt clutching my throat. Can I do it? Can I tell him what I heard the guy say in the memory?
Allura, you can tell me anything, Blaise says, reminding me that he can hear every single one of my thoughts. I won’t judge you. I’d be a hypocrite if I did.
With my lips smashed together, I suck in a steady breath through my nose. In one of my memories, the guy said he hadn’t seen me for over a century, which would make me much older than I look. Maybe old enough to have been around when the Grim ruined your planet.
How can that be possible? Blaise keeps a neutral expression, but I can feel his pulse thundering in his fingertips.
I shrug. Maybe it has something to do with my rapid healing rate. Maybe it makes me age slower, too.
I didn’t mean your age. I meant, how can the Grim getting ahold of you ruin our planet, especially since, when they had you, all they did was lock you in a cell and let the occasional visitor feed off you? He shakes his head. No, I’m not buying it. This guy … He glares at the stranger. He’s lying.
“You think so?” the guy questions with a hint of hilarity.
The air electrifies with piercing tension as reality slaps me hard across the face.
He could hear our entire telepathic conversation?
“You’re a Forbidden,” Blaise states, his hand falling to his side.
“Nope.” The stranger straightens and takes a deliberate step toward us. “But I do have some of your abilities.”
“How is that possible?” Blaise moves his arm in front of me possessively as the man takes another step closer. “That’s close enough.”
The guy dares another step before pausing. “So protective of her.” His gaze skirts to me. “If you knew her whole story, you might not be.”
“Doubtful.” Blaise doesn’t budge. “Now, are you going to tell us why you’re here and how you know us? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
The guy wags his finger at us. “Such violence. I forgot you were like that.”
“Tell me how you know me,” Blaise says threateningly. “I sure as hell can’t remember you.”
“Oh, that’s because you haven’t met me yet,” he replies simply. “But one day you will.”
Blaise hesitates. “How have we never met, yet you know me?”
“Because I’ve met you already …” He tugs his collar down just far enough that we can see the smirk on his face. “In the future.”
“If you’ve met us in the future, then that would make you a …” Blaise drifts off, struggling for an answer.
“Time traveler.” The answer falls off my tongue absentmindedly. I stand taller, moving around Blaise’s arm. I inch toward the man, but Blaise latches on to the hem of my jacket, forcing me to stay back. “You’re a time traveler, and so am I.”
His smile broadens as he shakes his head. “No, you’re not, sweetheart. And this is a conversation we’ve had many, many times before.”
“Don’t ever call me that.” My icy cold tone startles both the stranger and myself.
“You’re different than the last time I saw you.” He yanks the collar of his shirt back over his mouth, the fabric muffling his voice. “That is going to make things more complicated.”
“What things?” Blaise demands, positioning himself in front of me again. “Answer me or—”
“You’ll make me. I know, I know. We’ve been down this road before, and it never ends well for either of us,” the guy sneers, rolling up his sleeves. “All right, time to move on from this little charade. I have the perfect idea.”
“If you do anything to her, I’ll break every one of your damn fingers,” Blaise warns with his fists balled.
The man opens and flexes his fingers. “Oh, I’m not going to do anything to her. Just you.”
“Go ahead and try,” Blaise retorts. “You won’t get very far.”
“Blaise,” I warn underneath my breath. “Be careful.”
While I don’t know what this man is capable of, I’ve felt the strength of his hands around my neck and breathed in his desire to kill.
“Maybe not then, but I’ve changed a lot since the last time we did this.” The stranger stares at Blaise as he raises his hands to his sides. “It’s a shame you don’t know this part yet, because it’s by far my favorite. Although, not yours.”
Wiggling his fingers, the ground begins to alter beneath us, shaking and rupturing apart like cracked glass. The sky follows, cracking and splintering into uneven squares that shift around and reposition, the stars quickly fading in a wave of red, erasing the night—the world. Then buildings begin to crumble, evaporating into a cloud of dust that glides across the ground and obliterates the asphalt and cars. A dust devil funnels around us at a powerful rate, yet somehow we remain in place.
“You’re sending us back to the red sky world?” I shout at the stranger over the screeching of the violent wind. “Is that how you’re going to kill me this time? Send me back before I’m healed?”
“Healing isn’t what you have to worry about.” He swishes his hands downward and the wind dies, the changing scenery freezing.
I wipe the dust from my eyes. “Then how are you going to kill me this time?”
He draws down the top of his jacket to reveal his smirk. “I wasn’t here for you. Well, not completely. I’ll retu
rn when the time is right to destroy you before the Grim get ahold of you, like I always do.”
With a blink of his eyes, he vanishes into nothingness, leaving me standing in the middle of the desert of the red sky world, confounded, lost, and alarmingly on edge
“Now what do we do?” I ask, twisting around toward Blaise. Where he stood a few moments ago is now vacant.
I spin around, shielding my eyes from the glinting redness of the sky. The flat, bare land allows me to see for miles. And nothing. Absolutely nothing is around me, except for the occasional tumbleweed and shallow hill.
Blaise is gone, and the awareness of what the time traveler meant smacks me in the stomach, nearly bringing me to my knees. The stranger wasn’t here for me. He was here for Blaise. Why?
What exactly did he do to him? Send him out of the Oblivion? Send him someplace else?
The worse realization comes next, like a blow to the heart.
Did the traveler kill Blaise?
Is Blaise dead?
Chapter 10
Before the Branding of Flesh
I stand in disbelief for way too long before panic gushes through my veins and pummels straight into my heart. My skin beads with sweat as I reel in a circle, looking left, right, up, down, refusing to accept that Blaise could be dead.
“Blaise!” I call out, my panicked voice reverberating across the deserted acres of sand. “Blaise, are you here?”
A breeze whisks through the air, blowing strands of hair into my face, and flakes of dust spray against parts of my exposed body. But as rapidly as the wind picks up, the air unexpectedly goes still.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “Blaise!” I shout as I head toward a speck of silver glistening in the distance; the Broken City, I’m assuming. “Blaise, please, if you’re somewhere close by, answer me.”
Deep down, I know my search is useless. If Blaise were nearby, I would see him. But giving up seems like a horrible decision. Besides, I have no place to go. I’m stuck here, alone, until Reece figures out how to bring me back from the brink of death.
Not knowing what else to do, I begin trekking across the desert. The longer I walk, the more the thick soles of my worn boots scuff against the dirt, my footsteps becoming lethargic. The sunlight blasts down, coating my skin with a sticky layer of sweat, and the dust in the air clings to the dampness, making me feel icky.
Hunger and thirst choke at my throat as dehydration and starvation set in. The feeling reminds me of when I was trapped in the channels and the Wardens would revoke my eating and drinking privileges. Still, I continued to survive, even when I didn’t taste the wetness of water on my tongue for weeks on end.
I never thought about how odd my ability to live off nothing was until I observed the way Ryder and Reece needed food and water at least once a day. At least, that’s how I was, but now …
I topple over, collapsing onto my knees as hunger pains pinch my stomach. Dryness of the mouth and throat soon follow, magnifying the discomfort in my belly. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve only been in the Oblivion for hours, yet I feel like I’m starving to death and dying of thirst. How is that possible? Then I remember what Blaise told me about how time moves differently in the Oblivion.
Coldness slinks up my back, bringing on chills, as I become painfully aware that I’ve actually been here for weeks and my real body could be wilting away into skin and bones. I don’t know what to do to fix the problem.
The city could hold food and water, but it’s forever away. And I’m uncertain eating in here would nourish my real body. Blaise did tell me if I died while I was in the Oblivion, my physical body would die, too, so maybe.
“It could work,” I murmur, lifting my heavy head to measure the miles of desert in front of me. “If I could find food and water.”
Do you even want to? A voice emerges in my mind. You could just go, you know. Give up and let the world be saved.
Don’t listen to him, a voice like my own warns. Your death won’t save the world. Only destroy it.
The other voice laughs. Like you know anything. You just don’t want to die.
Allura, don’t listen to him. He wants you to die.
“Who does?” I ask aloud, my head throbbing. “The time traveler?”
No, the leader …
“The leader of who?” I wait for an answer, but one never comes. “Is it the same leader the Orders were talking about?”
Again, my only response is the wind.
Sucking in a feeble breath, I shift my weight forward and stagger to my feet. Though my legs gripe in protest as I straighten and trudge forward, I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, determined to make it to the city.
“Well, well, well, lookie what I found,” a raspy voice scrapes at my ears.
I reel around so swiftly I just about topple over again, but thankfully I manage to keep my footing.
“W-who are you?” I stammer to the man standing only a handful of feet away from me.
He’s dressed in holey pants and a frayed jacket. The hood lowered from his head reveals thinning hair and a gnarly scar running down the front of his face. His teeth are yellow, eyes bloodshot, and his leathery skin is sunburnt. His aged and worn appearance immediately declares he isn’t Grim, but the evil smirk on his face and the gun slung over his shoulder makes me wonder if my life is in danger.
His grin expands as his eyes scan up and down my body. “It’s not every day I come across a woman out in the middle of the desert, all by her little ol’ lonesome.” He starts to circle me, and I turn with him, not allowing him to get behind me. He comes to a stop and glowers at me. “You’re gonna hold still and let me getta good look at ya.”
Shaking my head, I back away from him. “Stay away from me.”
His lip curls as I dare another step in the opposite direction. “Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” He removes the gun from his shoulder and aims the barrel at me. “Now come here so I can see how much your pretty little body is worth.”
“No.” Spinning around, I take off in a mad run, but I don’t make it very far before the gun fires off.
A metallic scent bites at the air as a fiery pain scorches against the back of my leg. It whips from my leg to my chest to my brain, and my knees give out as my stomach clenches. I crumble to the ground and land flat on my face.
Coughing up a mouthful of dirt, I flip over and glance down at my leg. Blood gushes out of an open wound and stains the dirt beneath me.
“I tried to warn ya.” The man stalks toward me, gun in hand. “You wanderers never listen.” He crouches down and taps the end of the gun to the side of my head. “Not too bright in the head, are ya?”
Smashing my palm over the wound, I scoot away from him.
He cackles with laughter. “Man, you’re a stubborn one.” He straightens his legs, pushing to his feet. “That’s okay. I love a challenge.” He drapes the gun back over his shoulder and shoots me a crooked grin. “And breaking the challenge out of stubborn people.” He ambles toward me, his wicked smile growing as I struggle to get my feet under me.
Every time I get upright, my injured leg gives out, and I end up collapsing repeatedly to the ground.
When he reaches me, he stomps the bottom of his boot against my chest and shoves me back down. “All right, play time is over.” He pushes all his weight down, pushing the oxygen from my lungs and pinning me to the dirt. “Now I just need to figure out what to do with ya.” He cocks his head to the side as he studies me with greedy eyes. “Keep ya for myself or turn ya over to the Grim and get a hefty reward.”
Refusing to surrender, I reach up and stab my fingernails into his leg until I can feel his skin peeling apart. He cries out in pain, his face contorting in agony as he trips back. Seizing the distraction, I smash my boot into his kneecap and the contact makes a sickening crack. He groans as he buckles over, grasping his knee.
“Ya stupid bitch,” he seethes through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna make ya pay for that.”
I
launch to my feet, but I move too eagerly and tumble right back down. Gritting my teeth, I flip over, put most of my weight on my good leg, then gradually stand up. Once I’m fully standing, I hobble across the desert, leaving a trail of blood behind me.
“Ya ain’t going nowhere!” the man shouts over a click.
I throw a glance over my shoulder and cringe as I see him reloading. Quickening to a sloppy jog, I battle the wooziness funneling through my mind and stomach, and run as fast as I can. What really makes me sick is knowing I already lived this scene before, but I can’t recall the conclusion—if the guy captures me or not—so I’m left blindly running into the unknown.
The gun goes off again, and a bullet tears through my shoulder. As the wound sputters blood, I drop to the dirt, gasping for air.
I roll over and blink fiercely against the sunlight.
Get up! Get up! Get up!
I try to obey the voice, but my legs and arms remain limply sprawled across the dirt.
“Told ya not to run,” the guy wheezes as a shadow casts over me. His face is screwed up in pain, his skin pale, and a glare is etched into his features. He stares at the blood spurting from my shoulder and leg then glances down at his knee. “Goddammit, I think ya broke my kneecap. Do ya know how much of a pain in the ass it’s gonna be to get home?” His eyes blast daggers at me. “Guess, I’m gonna just have to leave ya out here to rot in the sun.” Maneuvering his leg awkwardly, he plops down beside me and reaches for my face. “Such a shame.”
I flinch as his fingertips graze my cheekbone and turn my head away from him. With his other hand, he roughly grabs my chin and forces me to look him dead in the eye. Then he leisurely traces his fingertips down the side of my face to my neck, collarbone, lingering on my shoulder.
“Such a pretty thing.” He sketches a trail down my arm to my wrist. “Too bad you’re gonna die. I coulda made bank on ya.” He lines his fingers with my pulse, and then his thin brows pinch. “Awfully steady for a dying woman.” He rotates my branded wrist upward, skimming his thumb along the inside of my wrist, causing a foul chill to coil across my skin. “Pretty little unmarked flesh.”
Oblivion (Broken City #3) Page 7