by Bella Jacobs
And then I turn and run like I’m being chased by a monster.
The monster responsible for setting fire to our beautiful future and burning it all to the ground.
Chapter 23
Wren
I race through the woods naked for one heart-hammering, panic-stricken minute before I remember what I am and turn to my animal friends.
That’s what they feel like—my various shapes are me, but not me at the same time. I’m still Wren inside a furry skin, but I’m also channeling primal energy unique to each kin form I welcome in.
Tonight, I call on my mama bear, my newest and most powerful land bound shape. She’ll keep me safe as I run through the woods in the dark. She’ll charge fast and furious into camp and have Kite and the others on their feet in seconds, ready to rush back to Creedence.
I reach down inside me with invisible hands, digging psychic fingers into the thick fur of my bear and drawing her close, swirling her around me like a cloak as I send out a silent thank you for coming to me, for helping me be something more than a girl alone.
The increasingly familiar twist-pull-pop starts in my stomach and ripples outward, transforming human skin into tooth and claw. My feet leave the ground bare and vulnerable and touch down the next heartbeat thickly padded and ready to rumble.
With a roar of warning that one of our own is in trouble, I gallop through the woods toward the smell of burning wood. By the time I reach the cabin, Luke is bursting through the door, shrugging on a sweatshirt as he moves, and the others are crashing through the woods toward me. Kite is already a big, burly, take-no-prisoners bear. Dust and Sierra are not far behind, both carrying flashlights and moving fast in human form.
I jerk my head and do a one-eighty, hurrying back the way I came.
I’ve only been gone five, maybe six minutes, but by the time I get back to the clearing, Creedence is so pale he practically glows in the darkness, and his heart beats so slowly a panicked moan rips from my chest, echoing through the night.
“Give me room.” Dust falls to his knees beside Creedence, bringing his fingers to the other man’s throat. “What happened?”
I tense, every muscle in my massive head straining as I try to reach out to Dust telepathically, the way he’s been teaching me to do, but I can’t find the link to my human voice. I’m too scared for Creedence, too panicked that I’ve done something terrible I can’t take back.
If I’m the death of him, I will never forgive myself.
After another beat, I give up and reach for the strings tying me to my bear. I pull hard—too hard, sending myself into the shift so fast I land in my human skin with a scream and a wave of nausea so intense I fall to my hands and knees in the dirt, fighting to keep my dinner in my belly as I gasp, “We were together and—”
“Together how?” Dust demands. “Having sex?”
I shake my head. “No. Not yet. He was kissing me, and then he said it felt like his head was exploding. I reached out to him. When my hands touched his chest, I could see it. What he sees. The futures.”
“His kin gift.” Dust exhales sharply. “You must have enhanced it. The way you did Kite’s, even before you were bonded.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not just her power anymore.” Luke strips off his sweatshirt, using it to cover Cree’s bare upper body. “She’s channeling you and Kite now, too. I can feel the difference when we’re sparring. It might have been too much for Creedence. All three of you pumping into his kin gift at once.”
Creedence moans, and his lids flutter, but his eyes stay closed.
I desperately want him to wake up and tell Luke to go fuck himself, to insist that he can handle anything the rest of them can and then some, but he doesn’t. He stays flat on his back, unmoving except for the twitching behind his lids and the occasional jerk of a hand or foot.
“We have to do something.” I snatch my shirt and panties from the ground, pulling them on. “We have to get him out.”
Kite, still in bear form, groans softly and bobs his head, clearly knowing better than to try to reach me with telepathy right now.
“If our bond triggered this in some way, then there’s a chance the three of us together can turn it off. Kite?” Dust reaches for Kite, who crosses quickly to him, dipping his head low enough for Dust to thread his fingers into the fur on his neck. “You too, Wren.”
I kneel on Kite’s other side, gripping his coarse, sweet-smelling fur like a lifeline as I meet Dust’s gaze. “What do we do now?”
“We try to reach him.” Carefully, Dust places a hand on Creedence’s forehead, his jaw going tight. “Jesus…”
“What is it?” The backs of my eyes sting, but I refuse to cry. Crying isn’t going to help undo this mess. “What’s happening?”
“Give him a second, Princess,” Luke says, in what I assume is intended to be a calming voice.
But I’m not in the mood to be fucking calm.
Or to take orders from a liar.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, low and cold.
Luke’s brows shoot up, and Kite rumbles low in his throat, but I don’t back off. I double down, my eyes glued to Luke’s. “Unless we’re in the ring, keep your opinions to yourself.”
Luke’s lips part, but he wisely shuts his mouth before anything stupid comes out.
A beat later, Dust whispers in a shattered voice, “Touch Creedence, Wren. Complete the circuit.”
I turn back to Dust. His eyes are closed, but the grief tightening his features makes it clear whatever he’s seeing isn’t good. But good or bad, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we bring Creedence back to the present before the future breaks him.
Fingers trembling, I reach out, settling my hand on Cree’s forehead next to Dust’s.
Instantly, the world tears again, shredding into a dozen different pieces, two dozen, more…ribbons of time fluttering in the air all around us. But this future isn’t just about us.
It’s…everything.
Everyone.
And they’re all in pain. In hell, right here on Earth.
Kite groans miserably, and I tighten my grip in his fur. I feel what he feels through his kin gift, the agony and despair choking the people on most of these timelines, the utter hopelessness and rage, the final violent death rattle of humanity as it succumbs to an apocalypse of its own making.
It’s all darkness. All wasted.
I’m too late. Already too late. Even if I destroy Atlas and fight like hell to turn it all around, there will be no avoiding impact. The best we can hope for is a course adjustment, a shift away from utter and complete ruination.
“Focus on the dirt, the leaves,” Dust says, his tight voice breaking through the waves of despair. “Send your energy into the earth. We have to ground ourselves in the present, help him shut out the future.”
Shivering, I fight to block out the chaos, but it’s so hard. We’re huddled on a tiny island in the middle of a storm made of nightmares. Everywhere I turn, there are horrifying new things to see, but it’s impossible to look away. Especially when I realize what most of these futures have in common.
They’re what happens if we fail.
And we almost always fail.
Almost.
Always.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears streaming down my cheeks as I focus on the ground beneath my shins. I focus on the feel of Creedence’s forehead hot against my fingers, on the soothing drone of Dust’s voice as he urges us to deepen our breath, on the comforting bulk of Kite’s fur so rough-soft in my hand.
All three of them are so precious to me.
And all three will likely be dead before the year is out. And I will be, too. And the only bright side is that we won’t live to see the world and everyone we love go up in flames.
My ribs lock tight, but it isn’t misery that squeezes the air from my lungs this time.
It’s rage, white-hot to the touch.
How dare they? Atlas and all the greedy, human mons
ters that are like him? How dare they doom us all? How dare they defile the sacred gifts we’ve been given? The gifts of love and hope and this planet teeming with life so wild and miraculous every piece of it hums with magic?
How dare they?
My head falls back, and a howl of fury explodes from my chest. I scream for everything that’s lost, for all the suffering no one can stop, for all the senseless greed and violence that’s led to this. To the end. The miserable, wretched, not at all fitting end. We were terrible, humanity, but we were also so beautiful.
We could have turned out differently. We could have been so…good.
I feel like I’m dying, like my life is pouring out of me along with this soul-deep wail, when suddenly there’s a hand on my ribs and a voice begging me to breathe.
The moment the hand touches me, the ribbons of time are slashed and fall away. I’m back on the forest floor, the darkness soft around me, and Luke’s arm wrapped tight around my waist.
Cree’s eyes are open now. So are mine. All our eyes are open. Horribly, miserably open.
“Thank you, Luke,” Dust says, his voice rough, worn. “Though, I wish I’d known you were vision blind five minutes ago. You could have pulled Creedence out on your own and…”
And we wouldn’t have had to see all that, goes unspoken, but we all hear it.
I shake my head. “No,” I murmur, sounding as hollow as I feel. “It’s better to know. It’s reality. It is…what it is.”
“You guys are going to have to fill me in.” Sierra steps into the glow of Luke’s flashlight, worry knitting her features. “But I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you saw any more than you do.”
None of us respond.
I don’t know about Kite and Dust, but I don’t have it in me right now to talk about what just happened. Seeing it was hard enough, so hard that it takes every bit of strength left in me to help Creedence to his feet, gather the rest of my clothes, and limp back to camp, defeat weighing heavy on my shoulders before we’ve even started to fight.
Chapter 24
Wren
The sun creeps slowly over the sleeping peaks, lighting up the world with a kiss. Sunrise around here is always beautiful, but this morning it’s so dazzling, so precious that it breaks my heart. Soft, silent tears cut paths down my dirty cheeks to drip off my chin, but I don’t move to swipe them away.
I sit cross-legged in the damp grass at the top of our mountain. And stare. And wish I could gather the world into my arms and hold it close.
Protect it. Preserve it.
Or shake it until humanity comes to its senses and changes its ways.
But it’s already too late. Even the best scenario isn’t a best scenario. Or even a decent one. We’ve pushed too far, taken too much, remained willfully ignorant for too long to turn back now. Now, there is no happy ending, only a lesser of all the available evil.
Visions of the hundreds of possible futures twist and flutter behind my eyes, like playing cards tossed into the air, making my synapses groan under the burden of this impossible puzzle, this mess I can’t clean up, no matter how hard I try.
It’s a miracle Creedence isn’t stark raving mad. I can’t fathom how he’s borne this gift for so long without losing his mind, let alone his sense of humor.
But there he is, walking across the field with two steaming mugs in hand, his golden hair and prickly beard shining like a sun god come down to save the world from the darkness. And he’s smiling. Exhausted, sad, but still smiling.
“Hey there, Slim. Thought you could use some coffee.”
“Thanks. How are you feeling?” I take the mug and scoot over, making room for him on my blanket. “Get any sleep?”
He settles beside me with a soft groan, cupping his coffee close to his blue-flannel covered chest. “Some. Enough to take the edge off. What about you?”
I shake my head, gaze fixed on the view as the morning light creeps into the nooks and crannies between the mountains and bird song begins to drift from the valley. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t quit thinking. Trying to find a way…” I trail off as my ribs lock down, as if by holding my next breath hostage they can freeze time, keep this moment from becoming the next and the next until God only knows what nightmare is waiting for us down the line.
“Understandable.” Cree reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling something out and pressing it into my hand.
I glance down to see an old-fashioned handkerchief, white with tiny bluebells embroidered on one corner. “Thank you.” I mop up my face, but the tears keep coming. Slower now, but insistent, a steady drip inspired by the miracle of morning and the smell of the sweet grass and the revelation of the sunlight warm on my face.
“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, I guess,” I murmur.
“It’s not gone. Not today. And today’s all we ever have, Slim. We can’t do a damn thing about tomorrow.”
“That’s not true,” I say, sniffing. “If it were, then we wouldn’t be here, busting our asses to take the reins of the world away from a monster.” I swallow hard. “But the monster’s already won. And it isn’t even all the monster’s fault. A lot of it was us, Cree. Just…people. Scared, stupid, blind, selfish people. We’re like children, hurling our toys against the wall and then wondering why all the beautiful things are broken. Why we can’t ever put them back together again.”
He puts an arm around my shoulders, the gentleness in his touch making it even harder to breathe. All the love in this world. All the wild, fierce, devoted, tender, miraculous love, but what is it good for?
If it can’t save the innocent?
If it can’t turn back time, undo the damage, wipe the slate clean?
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to go from here,” I confess, voice as strained and broken as I feel. “I don’t know how to keep hoping.”
Creedence makes soft shushing sounds, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “I’m sorry, kid. This is why I kept my distance. I saw how the mate bond made Kite feelier and Dust hidier, and I got to thinking…”
My lips twitch in spite of myself. “Feelier and hidier…” I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “And now you’re seeier. I’m the one who should apologize, Cree. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Hush.” He hugs me closer. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s nothing I didn’t know deep down. I might not have been able to see that far or that much before, but in my gut, I’d already clocked on to what was coming.” He sighs. “The clouds were churning and spitting fire on the horizon, Slim. I knew the chances the sky was going to clear up and we’d all go on a picnic weren’t great.”
“But at least there was a chance. A sliver of hope.”
He pulls away, setting his coffee down in the grass and turning to face me. “And there still might be. We don’t know what comes after the shit storm. But we saw that far and wide with just a touch connection and some extra juice from Kite and Dust. Think about what we could do with a mate bond?”
I shiver. “It’s kind of a scary thought.”
Creedence’s eyes crinkle at the edges. “It is. But now that we’ve confirmed Luke’s superpower is being the ultimate magical wet blanket, we know there’s a way out if things get too intense.” He glances over his shoulder. “About Luke, by the way. Do you remember…”
“I do,” I whisper. “If we make it, Luke is there with us. Part of our family.”
“I’m not saying I’m ready to trust him completely, but that’s definitely changed since the last time I looked forward.” He nudges my shoulder gently with his. “You’re getting through to him, Slim. You’ve got this. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep fighting the good fight, and we’ll get where we need to be. We’ll hand Atlas his walking papers, get your pretty ass on the throne where it belongs, and make all those happy possibilities a reality.”
He doesn’t mention the children by name, and I’m grateful. It already feels like
they’ve died. I can’t bear to think about those four beautiful possibilities too much or my heart might never get up off the floor.
It’s going to be a battle as it is.
I search Cree’s face. “But we have to face facts, Cree. Even if we win, we’re in for hard times like nothing humanity’s ever seen. The best we can do is minimize the suffering, but there’s still going to be more than enough to go around.”
His expression softens, his eyes filling with a vulnerability that strums every string in my heart as he says, “But that doesn’t mean we stop fighting, baby. We’re all born to die. That doesn’t make one second of this life any less precious. And this is what faith is all about, believing that love is the biggest truth out there, no matter how hard the evil shit tries to convince you otherwise.”
Tears streaming faster down my face, I nod. He’s right. I know he is, but… “It still hurts. I’m so sad. And so angry.”
“That’s fine. Be sad and angry. Grieve until you’re done grieving. And then we’ll get up and keep going. This isn’t about the end, it never was. It’s about every step we take down the right path, every shaft of light we shine into the darkness.” He pauses, his throat working. “And you shine brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Even after everything you’ve been through—the lies and the pain and facing down death every morning over your cornflakes when you were just a kid—you’ve still got this big, beautiful heart. You can still love and be loved and risk your life for people you don’t even know, and that’s brave as hell.”
“But that’s hard, too,” I confess in a whisper. “Sometimes I want to give up. I want to run away and build a wall and hide behind it so I won’t have to hurt like that ever again.”
His lips curve. “Understandable. But you keep ripping those walls down and getting back in the ring. And that’s why you’re the shit, girl.”