A strange compulsion to soothe him overtook her, and she quashed it. “It’s easier that way. For them. And for us.”
He held her gaze, and she wished she could somehow dim the pain he must be feeling. Her heart seemed to double in size as lights sparked in his eyes. “You’re holding something back from me, aren’t you?”
Her pulse quickened as she steeled herself for the effect the words would have on him. To have his memories returned only to learn he could never act on what he remembered, never return and live a life apart from the one he’d come to know.
“They are better off not knowing what you are.”
When anger flashed across his face, she took a step backwards.
“I’m sorry. Nothing I say will make this any easier for you. If you try to find them, if you tell them what you are, you place them in danger.”
His lips tugged downwards, eyes narrowing before his hand brushed over his face. “I’m tired of waiting. Tell me now. What am I?”
Her skin prickled at how forcefully he wanted the truth. But he wouldn’t be able to absorb it all at one time. She took a shuddering breath, alarmed to find her hands were trembling. “I told you before. You’re Luminary, but what that means, what your life will be like, I can’t tell you right now. You need time to—”
He cut her off with a glare that made her freeze. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been lied to enough!”
She cringed at the fire in his eyes. Fire he’d probably not even known was there. “Tarquin. If I tell you everything now, you won’t believe me, and I risk you running.”
He shook his head, fingers grasping the bow he’d slung over his back. “This is a waste of time. I want answers. If you won’t give them to me, I’ll go back to Tartarean and demand them from him.”
The thought made her blood chill in her veins. Her hand was on his arm in a heartbeat. Her eyes locked on his. “If you go back now, he’ll kill you.”
She left her fingers on his arm and held her voice steady. “I know you’re angry—”
He shook off her hand and glared harder at her. “You keep saying you know. How can you know what I’m feeling? Who are you anyway?”
An itch tickled her insides. A warning. She closed her eyes for a moment and sought the presence creeping towards them.
Without warning, she silenced him with a sharp shove to his chest. “Quiet.”
Whether shock or his own fear closed his mouth, she didn’t care. Men were coming. Tartarean’s men. And they were looking for him.
“We need to keep moving.”
His frown increased before he shook his head and shrugged, almost resigned. “Fine.”
Relief swam through her as he picked up his pace again, and they continued their weary trudge out of the forest and back towards the home she’d run from the second the whispers called her away.
She’d broken protocol, not bothering to check if she had permission, too consumed by the urgency filling her veins.
As she slid a quick look at him, the set to his shoulders and the blue tinging his lips warned her she’d arrived just in time to save another Luminary.
***
Merrin’s home appeared to be nothing more than a hut in the middle of a dense forest.
Overgrown trees and bushes provided a layer of protection he was glad to find. It was one thing to place all your trust in a strange girl with light in her eyes, but an entirely different thing to trust her judgement where your safety was concerned.
The outside of the rounded shack, with its mud walls and mossy covering, almost blended into the trees.
Maybe she does know what she’s doing?
She leaned past him, opened the door and smiled again. “Help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen. Though I’m not sure there’ll be much in the cupboards, sorry.”
Tarquin paused, a trickle of uncertainty spreading. “Where are you going?”
She pointed to where a snare was set up. “I’ll see if there is something we can cook. Then I’ll find you some clothes.”
With another smile, she turned on her heel and strolled away, leaving him standing at the entrance to the strange hut.
He peered inside, not sure if he should be entering. But she’d said it was hers, and he had nowhere else to go.
He stepped through the wooden door and gingerly sat on the first seat he found. His shivers seemed to increase, so he wrapped his hands around his arms and stared around the tiny space Merrin called home.
Books littered the floor, stacked high. Every surface covered in clutter and discarded clothes. In the tiny kitchen, the two chairs, one of which he sat on, were beside a small table filled with unwashed dishes that carried the remnants of food long eaten, left to grow mould.
A snort erupted as he scanned the rest of the hut. Her bed was in disarray, bed clothes shoved to one side and an open book left face down; spent candles sat on the overflowing bookcase and window sill, wax melted to the wood surfaces.
A laugh bubbled in his chest, for a moment overtaking his exhaustion. Merrin, whoever she was, lived like a slob.
She returned a while later, a broad smile on her face and a large hare dangling in her hand, already skinned. She’d busied herself in the untidy kitchen, leaving him to dress in clothing she’d handed him from one of the many piles on the earthen floor.
Even though he was dry, in borrowed clothing that fit a little too snug around his shoulders and thighs, his hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and his fingers were frozen.
The mug of spicy, syrupy tea Merrin had assured him would help couldn’t seem to stop the chills wracking his body.
How much time had passed since they’d arrived? His aching body told him it must be near night, though the light never dimmed around him. He peered at her as she studied a book from her collection beside her bed. If she felt awkward at him being inside her home, she gave no indication of such.
As if feeling his eyes on her, she met his gaze; this time, a fraction of embarrassment flushed in her cheeks. “Are you feeling any better?”
Tarquin shrugged, hoping to contain the shiver that ran down his spine. His teeth chattering gave him away. “F-f-fine.”
she placed the book to one side and stepped to him. “You’re exhausted. You need to rest.”
He nodded weakly and gripped the mug a little tighter. “How many times have you done this?”
She took a seat beside him, tucking her hair behind her ear as she searched his face. “Three. You’re my fourth, and my first on my own.”
At the wistful look on her face, his forehead creased. “When will you answer my questions?”
Merrin eased back a little in her chair, the concern for him evident in the way her eyes ran over his trembling body. “Soon. But I need you to gain a little more strength back. I have a tonic that will help you sleep.”
With a sigh, she got off the chair and began rummaging through a chest of drawers, muttering to herself as she pulled items of clothing out. “I should be more organised.”
Tarquin sipped his drink and studied the peculiar girl as she crouched, her face obscured as she almost shoved her head inside the ample trunk—the face he’d decided, between leaving the ruins and arriving here, was pleasant. Not beautiful. But the soft lines of her mouth and chin and her searching eyes seemed to fill him with a feeling of being connected.
To what, he had no idea.
He shook his head. He was just overwhelmed from whatever had happened. The light, whatever it was, had rattled him, and he was placing too much emphasis on the girl who’d shown it to him.
She was in the habit of saving…whatever he was. That was all she was doing, helping him, for what purpose he wasn’t sure yet.
She was taller than average, her gait matched the longer length of her limbs, and she moved with a confidence that helped set his mind at ease.
Whatever was happening to him, she, at least, knew what to expect and what to do. He blew out a breath and stared at his blue tipped fingernails.
The clothes he’d been given scratched him, a little rougher than the linen he’d been wearing which now hung above her fireplace. He was too overwhelmed to consider anything too greatly.
His body screamed for rest, while his mind sought reassurances he wasn’t going mad.
In his muddled memories, he’d known what to do every day. His purpose was dictated by the Tartarean. Get up, eat, train, and go to Tartarean for his assignment.
There was no need to think. No need to question. No need to wonder what lay outside the target he’d be set.
The questions he’d never bothered to ask bloomed inside him, growing like a building pressure from within, threatening like a tidal wave to sweep him away with the powerful urge to ask why?
Her shout of triumph pulled his tangled memories away from what had been. She grinned as she stepped forward, a vial made of glass in her fingers. “This will help. Sleep is the best remedy.”
Tarquin accepted the vial, gingerly holding it in his trembling hands. His eyes locked on Merrin’s as his heart thudded in his chest. “What are the Luminaries?”
Merrin’s lips pursed. She closed her eyes before pulling her shoulders back. “You aren’t ready yet. Please. Sleep first. If we push too hard, too quick…”
She exhaled slowly, and in her eyes, he saw so much sadness he flinched with her pain. “What will happen to me?”
Merrin wouldn’t meet his eye for a moment, her gaze flittering around the messy hut. When she found him staring at her again, her mouth tugged downwards. She stepped closer, her eyes delving into him. “Please. Take the tonic. Sleep. Try to trust my word.”
He held her gaze and found the strength begin to ebb away. A wave of exhaustion nudged him. His entire body seemed to be working against his wishes. Tarquin placed the empty mug down on the table, and it was all he could do to agree.
He was entirely at her mercy.
***
Merrin jolted awake, her muscles twitching, unease spreading through her as she sensed her charge’s discomfort.
Her back ached from where she’d camped out on her floor. Her head pounded as she eyed him where he lay on her bed.
Long legs poked out from under the covers, hair tousled, his eyelids twitching as he dreamed.
Good. Let the dreams bring more memories.
She stretched out her back and rolled her shoulders to try to ease some of the knots loose.
He stirred, then one eye opened before he leapt out of bed, his eyes wide, fright etched over his sleep-dazed face.
Merrin rolled out of the way a second before he tumbled to the ground, foot twisted in the blankets.
She scrambled towards him, her heart crashing against her ribs. “Tarquin? You’re safe.”
He groaned and grasped his head, his voice still thick with sleep. “It was so bright. Everything hurts.”
Merrin knelt beside him and gingerly touched his arm. At least the chill had left his skin now: always a good sign when the shivering ceased. “It will ease. Did you see anything in your dream?”
He shook his head abruptly, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Nothing.”
Merrin quirked her lips, a dull ache in her chest as she studied him. He was lying to her. Why?
The itch that she relied on to warn her of trouble began to tickle. Her skin rose as he pulled his gaze away from her.
Her throat constricted as an entirely unfamiliar sensation trickled through her senses.
Blackness. Cold. Death. All emanating from inside him.
She sucked in a breath, rocking back on her heels without meaning to.
It couldn’t be? It wasn’t possible, was it? How had she been sent to him? If he were…
His frown increased as he shook his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Merrin couldn’t answer him. For the first time, she had nothing that she could bear to say out loud. To admit her fear, to say what she was thinking…how could she speak those words?
He swallowed, and his eyes flickered; light mingled with fire and that glimpse of darkness that caused her stomach to churn, and her pulse to increase.
Her smile was weak as she motioned to the kitchen, though food was the last thing on her mind. “I’ll make something to eat.”
He mumbled a thank you, and pulled himself to his feet, carefully folding the dislodged blankets and putting them on her bed.
Merrin’s heart beat a steady rhythm as she opened the cupboards and searched for sustenance her body no longer wanted. Her mind split in two as she contemplated what she was terrified to believe to be the truth.
The light couldn’t mingle with the dark. They couldn’t exist together. Lies and truth couldn’t abide inside Luminaries.
He couldn’t be both. It wasn’t even possible.
But here he was, sitting at her table, completely unaware that he was different from any Luminary she’d met.
Her impulsiveness at not gaining the Chief's confirmation may have endangered her entire race.
She’d brought him here. Into her home. Away from the safety of her kin.
But what do I do with him now?
Chapter 3.
Light filtered through the trees surrounding Merrin’s humble hut, shadows creeping through and landing on Tarquin’s cheeks as he sat, his spine against the wall, bow propped up against the mud wall.
Merrin exhaled slowly, her hands on her knees from where she sat crouched beside him. “Have you remembered anything else?”
Her tone was so hopeful that he wished he’d something helpful to report. For the strangest reason, he wanted to please her.
But he knew instinctively that what he could remember would do exactly the opposite.
Anytime he tried to make sense of the dream and the feelings it had brought with it, all he got for his trouble was a numb feeling creeping through his skull.
As though recalling was too horrific and would cause him too much pain. Maybe that was why she said she couldn’t push?
He tilted his head and studied her. The air grew colder around them. “Nothing that will help.”
Her nod was clipped as she stared ahead, fixed on where he spotted a deer in the distance. He watched the animal for a while, narrowing his eyes across the distance. A doe. His fingers were at his bow without a thought.
He smoothly nocked an arrow ready to aim when Merrin’s voice cut through his concentration. “What are you doing?”
He sent her a sidelong glance. “The deer. I’m going to shoot it.” Tarquin pulled his eyes away from her worried frown.
“What deer? I don’t see a deer.”
He managed a shake of his head. “How can you not see that? It’s what? Ten metres away. Right beside the thicket of bramble.”
Merrin followed his gaze, her mouth slackening and frown disappearing, replaced by another look he couldn’t decipher.
He ignored the reaction and pulled the arrow back, sighted the animal, and released the arrow from where he sat.
The whizzing sound was satisfying as he waited for the animal to drop. Instead, the doe took off at a run, with no evidence the arrow had done anything but startle her.
He pulled to his feet, confusion mounting as he stepped away from the hut, towards where the animal had been grazing.
Merrin followed at his elbow, a puzzled expression on her face. Halfway to the point he’d seen the animal, the fletching of his arrowhead caught his attention.
Lodged in a tree stump, in the direct line to where the animal had been. How did I miss?
He scratched his chin and shook his head, looking to Merrin for an explanation.
She stepped back from him, the usual light in her eyes missing as she swallowed thickly. “Tarquin? You aimed for a tree trunk.”
He stared down at the arrow in his hands, the tell-tale shake giving his own concern away.
Am I seeing things now too?
Was losing his memories not enough? Now he was targeting animals that weren’t even there?
The
lights exploded in his eyes again, before he knew what to think, Merrin was beside him, holding on to his arm, her voice soothing away the madness threatening to undo him.
Tarquin’s knees sagged, and he slid from her grasp, dropping to the ground, pain screaming through his head.
He’d always been able to hunt. That much he could remember. Wasn’t that why he’d been sent to hunt her?
A groan escaped as pain shot through his trembling body, cold edging in, taking over the warmth he’d only just found after so long in the cold.
He was so sure—so absolutely sure the deer had been standing there. His entire body was failing him, sending him signals that were wrong, showing him things that Merrin assured him weren’t there to see.
The pain in his head intensified as though splitting apart his skull. And as he gripped his head tighter, all Tarquin wanted was to return to the dark that had kept him safe until now.
Merrin, whatever she was, had taken him from the comfort that kept him from feeling this immeasurable sense of loss tearing at his insides.
His voice was weak as he stared at her. “I can’t do this. Take me back.”
Her brow furrowed; her eyes drifted to the ground they knelt on, sadness near pouring off her. So much so, he pulled his gaze away.
“I’m so sorry, Tarquin. I know–I wish I could understand better; come inside, and I can at least answer one question.”
Tarquin rose to his feet. “I don’t want to know anymore. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll find my own answers.”
Merrin shook her head, a flash of irritation on her face. “No. I can’t do that. You’re too weak to get far. You can’t keep denying the truth. You can’t keep pretending you aren’t what you are.”
A bolt of anger rang through him. His scowl intensified as he rounded on her. “Then tell me what I am. You keep saying I need to hear, but you don’t tell me.”
She shied away from him, her eyes flashing brilliance. “Calm down.”
He swore loud enough to send a flock of birds into the skies. “What am I?”
This time Merrin didn’t shy away from his anger. Instead, she stepped closer, close enough for him to see the faint splattering of freckles on her nose. “I don’t know!”
Illuminate: Upper YA Paranormal Romance Page 2