Fade (21 page)

He moved an inch forward before stumbling off to his right, those silvery eyes rolling into the back of his head as the shaft of the arrow entered it with a wet thunk. He hit the ground, his upper torso a shimmering ghost under the water, the feathered end of the shaft Kah’en had made poking up like the stem of a cattail.

Angela pushed herself up, watching blood cloud the water, then turned to see Kah’en in the distance, bow in hand. She covered herself and scrambled for clothes that were still lying on a nearby rock. He waited for her to put them on and approached. She watched him come, mentally thanked Jonas for dumping all of that fighting knowledge into her head. But he had been right, knowing was different than doing. She had reacted, but, just like he’d said, her brain was telling her muscles to do things they weren’t prepared for.

Kah’en stared down at the body then grabbed one of his legs, pulling him from the water. “I will do away with this,” he said and then looked at her. “Then we will begin training you.”

She started to protest, but knew he was right. She could still taste his hand on her mouth, feel how roughly he had pulled her from the water. If he had gotten in just one lucky blow, she would have been—powers or no—unconscious. She closed her eyes, trying not to imagine what might have happened next.

“There is food,” Kah’en said.

She nodded and he turned to walk away, the body rumbling along the ground behind him. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t say thank you.”

He said nothing in return. Angela watched after him, thinking she would take a moment to gather herself. But as he grew smaller in the distance she began to panic at the thought of being alone again and followed.

***

The first of the Fade guarding the outer edges of the camp came at Lucy. The warrior only made it three feet before every rock and pebble within a ten yard radius joined the tangle of roots shooting out of the ground to form a crushing hand around him. A second warrior forgot how to breathe (which took more out of Lucy than she’d prepared for). The third and final Fade to fall under her wrath had almost every valve to his heart (she wasn’t as strong in anatomy as she’d like) clamp closed. Then the Wraith came.

This close, she could tell that there were three of them left in Aern’s army. She wondered, as two of their mutated-human Golems came at her, if they could sense her as well. With a glance, she took one of the Golem’s over and it turned, ripping the head from the other. It made it a few feet toward Aern, who stood watching from the trees at the far end of their camp, before it was killed.

Next, she lashed out at the Wraith, sending them sprawling as she smirked. But the smile disappeared as they lashed back. She gasped in pain and fell to her knees. They pressed down her powers. Surprise flushed through her entire body as she found she could not overcome them. She heard Aern laugh.

Lucy had defeated one of these Wraith even when she didn’t know what she was doing. But with three, even at what she considered her best, she was failing. She had let her father down. Cynthia too. It had all fallen apart. Even Jonas’ memories, now seen on the other side of defeat, had been warning her that this was too much for one person. Still a fool. A weak, stupid fool.

As two Fade warriors pulled her along, her feet hissed against the grass, knocking along the ground, which pulled at her ankles in painful jerks. Her makeshift bandage slid in a great red glob to the grass. She was going to change the path of the war. But she had only given them another victory. A hot trickle of blood slid down her stomach.

The warriors dragging her gave off warm clouds of funk. The three Wraiths, smelling of warm batteries, followed behind her like reverent worshippers at some sick ceremony. They took up residence in a semi-circle around where the warriors began to hang her with rope by her arms from a tree.

“Before you die,” Aern’s voice boomed from behind them, “tell me where Jonas and the other girl are.”

***

It was as they neared the Fade’s camp that Cynthia first began to wonder if Jonas might have been right. The shock of everything that had happened was fading, and she’d begun to think more clearly. By going, was she serving any purpose other than to feed her self-image that she was a person who would never abandon a fight—would never leave family alone against a foe, no matter how pointless the endeavor? Jonas was off to commit suicide. He felt like a failure and was going to throw himself one last time at the thing that had systematically dismantled his life, hoping, at the least, to take with him a small chunk on his way out of this world.

She looked up, noticing she’d let Jonas get a bit ahead of her. She jogged to catch up, not wanting to lose him in the dark, but also not wanting to get close enough to chance him starting another conversation. She needed to think about this, and didn’t have much time.

Even with all of her strength, could she take out eighty some-odd warriors who were close to and maybe, in some cases, as strong as her? Sure, without that fancy armor they weren’t bullet-proof, and Jonas could kill a few before they overtook him. But then there she’d be, punching and kicking until it were her turn to die the futile death Jonas was set on.

Maybe if she took him up on his offer, made her way to the other Earth, they
could
figure out a way to bring in some back-up. That seemed reasonable, didn’t it? But could they even make it back? The Fade had figured out a way, hadn’t they?

Jonas stopped ahead of her. Cynthia stopped breathing. Was this it? She hoped not. Getting out of there—not dying a useless death—was making her certain now of her desire to leave. Why had he stopped? Were legions of Fade standing just beyond her view? If so, there would be no backing out.

“Stay where you are,” Jonas said to her, his voice frail as an Autumn leaf.

It felt as though a wheel was spinning out in her chest, and her lungs had shriveled. She watched Jonas step through the tall grass into a clearing in the woods.
They were going to die. He was just going to let them take him and leave her to die alone.
Cold sweat formed a thin sheen on her arms, her face.

Run. Run. Run.

Jonas turned to look at her, taking a few steps back in her direction. She could barely make him out in the dark. “I don’t want you to see this.” He gulped. “But it’s not one of the girls. They purposely left a trail I’ve been following for a while.” He looked back, flinched. “Wanted us to see this.”

Cynthia didn’t realize she’d slid down to sitting on her heels, holding her mouth. As horrible as it was, it wasn’t the Fade there waiting for them. She still had a chance.

“Are you okay?” Jonas asked.

She noticed that she could breathe again. Getting up, she ran over to where Jonas was. He looked over his shoulder, holding out his hands for her to stay away. She stopped in front of him, about to tell him that she was leaving, and that they were fools to think they could take on the Fade without help, and to beg him to go with her. But her eyes moved past him to a pale, moonlit arm, dried lines of blood caked on it, the rest of the body obscured by a large duo of bushes.

A low moan broke in her throat as every last cent of her attention went to the large, blue, gaudy bracelet on the arm. The one she had bought Jan for her last birthday.

SEVENTEEN

T
he Fade’s camp smelled of sweat and the remains of a dozen dead fires. Lucy hung by the wrists from thick ropes, tied to a monstrous, sturdy bow above. Her arm muscles felt as though they might pull apart from the weight of her own body. The three Wraith still stood in a circle, several feet from her, spread out, wavering like reflections in a lake, keeping her powers at bay. The first thing she had tried was bringing down every limb in that tree like spears on every threat she could see. Nothing. A small part of her, though, was still a bit proud that it took three of them to stop her.

Her throat was sandpaper from the smoke and fire of Jonas’ shelter. When she swallowed, it felt like trying to gulp down a pill the size of a quarter. She cleared her throat and responded to Aern’s persistent question. “I’m not going to tell you where they are.” She didn’t
know
where Jonas and Cynthia were, but she wouldn’t have told Aern if she had.

Her head throbbed like speakers were blasting at her from both sides. The terrifying thought occurred to her that perhaps it wasn’t the Wraith defusing her powers, but the slam against the shelter wall itself that had blown some fuse, relieving her of her abilities. The Fade doing damage to Jonas’ brain had taken his, after all. But, no, when she could get past her fear, she could feel the power, deep down, like the princess felt the pea. Beyond the throbbing pain of her head, the tearing pain in her arms, shoulders and sides, she could feel it trying to bubble up.

Aern cocked his head to the side. “I would imagine Jonas did not send you alone. That means he is likely about, or will come soon.” His mouth turned into a wicked curl. “I will gladly watch as he comes upon your torn body before I kill him as well.”

He would too. She didn’t have to flip through many pages of Jonas’ memories to know that. They had bound up her bleeding side, but just to keep her from dying before they got the pleasure of killing her. But instead of fear, Lucy felt anger. It beat in her chest like a second heart. “You are a
thing
, not a person.” Her eyes flashed at the Wraith who stood there, flickering. “You’ll be watching them turn into dust, like the last one I killed, when you feel me creep into your head.”

Aern sighed. “Bravado. Is that the word? We have taken far too long ridding ourselves of you.” He turned, addressing the two Fade closest to him. “The Queen waits. Kill her.”

“Please!” Her voice broke. She felt a stab in her stomach, but ignored it. Lucy again pushed at the weight of the three Wraith on top of her ability. Nothing. Aern walked away. There was no flinch at her yell for mercy. The two Fade, inky outlines in the pale moonlight, approached. She felt herself tense at the realization that she was about to die. Her voice tore from her throat again. “No!” And Lucy felt the proverbial weight move. Power had rumbled like a quick gust of air through a poorly shut door. It was only a burp of energy that came before they managed to close that door again, but she saw it push the Wraith nearest her—the one in the middle—a few inches back. He took his place again, his hooded head turning to meet the glance of one of the other Wraith.
Fear.
Lucy liked it. She smiled and pushed again.

***

Cynthia shook, her teeth clacking against one another, eyebrows twisted together. Jonas was speaking, but all she could hear was the wail of grief inside. Dizziness radiated out of her eyes in a cone toward that dead arm. She bent at her waist, rigid. She felt herself being grabbed, held, but as something which she might be observing from her periphery, happening to someone else.

All went dark as Jonas pulled her to his chest. The wild, unashamed sound of grief made itself fully known. She sucked in the smell of the mildewed shirt from the shelter Jonas wore, felt the tears, spit and mucus pour out of her face—their warmth feeling like even they were attempting to comfort her in this.

She seemed to be hearing Jonas’ voice through a wall at first—like he were a flat mate yelling at her to turn her music down. Then she was back, hearing him reassure her, begging her to tell him what was wrong, holding the full weight of her body in his arms. She grasped for him, trying to crawl up to a standing position, and he began to help, lowering his face to hers.

Through a haze she saw the concern on his face. Then the memory dropped on her like a mountain. The trip to Joey’s, the argument with Jan, the Fade that must have been there, just as she’d feared, watching them and then crawling off to steal her Jan away. She grunted, feeling the pain of that thought, and fell, Jonas catching her.

“My fault,” she said, sounding as if she were speaking another language. But somehow Jonas understood.

“What’s your fault?”

Cynthia managed to lift an eighty-pound arm and point it at Jan. Jonas didn’t look back, but did come to his knees, cradling her.

“It’s not your fault. How could it be? The Fade are—”

“Janet. My Jan!” She squeezed his shirt, heard some of the threads snapping.

Jonas started to speak, then tightened his grip. “Oh. Oh, Cynthia. I didn’t know.” He pulled her closer. “I am so sorry.”

Cynthia pulled away from him, standing, lurching toward the body. Jonas tried to latch on to her but, of course, could not hold her back. She had to see her. Part of her begged to believe that Jan might still be alive, and she wanted to kill that devilish spark. It was too much pain to know the truth and still hope such a horrible lie. Even a little.

Thankfully, no spike had been run through her core, like the horror-stories Jonas had shared. She was tied to an oak tree, tilting sideways against the rope wrapped around her torso.

“Cynthia!” Jonas yelled at her, getting up.

She bubbled groans and reached up, cupping the side of her friend’s face, pushing at the smeared eye make-up with her thumb. Jonas stood a few feet away, but he said nothing else.

“She gave a damn,” Cynthia said, stroking Jan’s cheek. “That’s the best thing I can say about anyone I know.” She raised her other hand and held Jan’s face. Kissed her forehead. Looked at her for a moment longer and said, “I love you.”

When she turned around, pale and empty, stumbling toward Jonas, her sobs under control now, her gaze went to his eyes. Her face turned into a picture of disgust. “I did that.” She hissed the words and began walking again down the path toward Aern.

EIGHTEEN

S
he asked, “why do you hate us so much?” Then Angela bit into the small leg of her meal, watching the fire smolder below the spit which held another of the cat-like creatures and three more fish.

“I do not. I just am not caring about your cause.” He prodded the embers with a bleached branch.

“What does that mean?”

“We were wishing to be accomplishing something important. Your kind is being opposed to us. If you were the stronger, you would live. We are the stronger.” He continued to eat.