Follow Me Through Darkness (23 page)

“I love you, too, Neely.”

There’s not a jolt through my body, so I know he’s not lying. He does love me, even if we’ve never said it before. I shake my head anyway. “You don’t-you don’t have to say that just because I did.”

Thorne kisses my lips gently, and I feel my worry slip away. “I didn’t. I love you. I think I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry. I was shocked-I always thought I would be the one to say it first.” He smiles at me as a tear falls down my cheek. “I thought I would be the one wallowing in wait.”

“Why?”

“You don’t like to let people in. Even me.”

“You know every part of me, Thorne. I don’t know if I could keep you out, even if I wanted to. I love you,” I say again, braver this time. It’s freeing, more freeing than I imagined
.

“I love you,” he says back
.

His lips meet mine, more sure, more passionate than I think they ever have been. My heart is pounding, and all of my emotions are flowing into him. All of his are part of me, and I know he’s real and true. That we are real
.

Somehow we end up on the ground, and everything is a blur except lips and fingers and goosebumps. The sand seeps under my clothes, into my pores. My heart is racing. His body is on mine, and he can’t be close enough. His fingertips wander across the flesh of my stomach, and I gasp. He pauses, but I kiss him harder
.

I don’t need the stars. So many feelings are pounding, pounding, pounding, pulling between us, leaving me restless
.

DEADLINE: 18D, 8H, 1M

PHOENIX, ARIZONA

OUR ARRIVAL IN PHOENIX
leaves me restless. It’s quiet, abandoned, and dark as far as I can see. But I know this is the place Xenith wanted me to stop. He said I would know it, and I’d know this anywhere.

“You sure you want me to drop you off here? I can take you further, near a camp,” Len says.

I shake my head and look out the small backseat window. Len gives a disapproving huff and puts the truck in park, watches us as we maneuver out. It’s a little tricky since my legs are shaky from not moving all day, and Thorne, now that I see him again in the late afternoon light, looks paler than I remember. More tired. Thorne shakes Len’s hand. Complete stillness surrounds us.

“Be careful out here, especially with lights. Don’t want any Snatchers to come for you,” Len says, his eyes locked on mine, too wise for my good. I don’t ask what a Snatcher is. There are some things I don’t need to know anymore. “I hope you make it to wherever it is you’re going.”

He doesn’t wait for us to respond. We both watch the truck until it disappears and leaves us standing in the stillness.

Thorne follows me, and there is no sound, not even of animals or crickets. It seems as if even the stars have decided to hide from us, since there don’t seem to be any in the sky.

A gravel path leads us to a large building with no fences, not anymore. There’s nothing here that should make this place seem like anything, but even in the starless, gloomy night, it’s familiar. I tap into the connection and find Thorne feels the same way- there’s a peacefulness here. The gravel levels out into a large circle. Decayed, dismantled wood rests in various spots on the ground. In the center, the building sits. It’s the largest one here, just like it is at home.

This Compound is exactly the same as ours. I lead us to the center of the circle, just to the right of the building, and look out. Dark blotches of shadow spread around us in the near distance. If I tried, I’d be able to see them as they are in my memory of our Compound- perfect and uniform in shape, size, and spacing. Lined with white fences, exactly fourteen feet from the front door. Four porch steps. Two windows on each wall. Slanted roofs. But here, even in the darkness, I can tell they aren’t perfect.

That’s how I know it’s dead. The Compound is always perfect.

I move around the courtyard, my foot scooting against a broken piece of wood. These used to be tables. Once, we ate lunch here as children. Once, Xenith and I did homework here. Once, my father stood atop one and demanded attention from the people. It was hundreds of miles away from here, but if I closed my eyes, it could be the same place.

Thorne’s beside me again suddenly. “This is one of the Compounds the Mavericks took down.”

The center building in the courtyard is a market at home. I follow Thorne inside through a broken window, and it’s so eerily the same. That is, if everything at home was left behind like this. The metal shelves are empty and rusted in some places. Broken glass jars plaster the floor like a warning. We find a few random packages-a can of soup, a jar with yellow liquid, and some sealed bags with no labels-and stuff them into our packs.

Beyond the courtyard, we walk along the wooden fences. Some of the posts are broken in half while others protrude into the air, as if they are reaching out for something to hold on to and failing, falling back into place, misshapen and broken.

I count as we walk past the houses. When we were children, we had to count how many houses stood between us and the courtyard so that we didn’t go to the wrong one. It happened one time, and we went in during someone else’s dinner. Sara never let us forget it.

“Fourteen,” Thorne says, stopping in front of the house. Fourteen steps away. The fence is split here, open and waiting for us to enter. Thorne and I exchange a glance, but he goes in ahead of me. I wonder if it’s the same inside as well.

Thorne steps up four overgrown stairs, and they creak a bit under his weight. The white paint that covers the outside isn’t white anymore. Now it’s yellowing like sickly cheese, and everything is peeling away to reveal the rotting wood underneath. The red front door is locked, wood warped, slightly bending and splintering. He kicks at the door a couple times before it bursts open, releasing dust into the night air. I follow him inside and see the paint on the door is faded, alternating in shades of lighter pink and darker red from the corrosive heat of the sun.

The house smells of something rotting and stuffy. Despite the smell, the entryway is still put together, a small, rounded room with doorways on either side and an angled staircase in front of us. The wallpaper is a faded shade of blue, but when I look closely, I notice the patterned swirl of flowers still fighting to be seen.

The entryway leads to a small living room off the left. The walls look gray but that could be the lack of light, and the floors are covered by dirt and a moldy piece of carpet. There’s an old couch, simple and sturdy, two small tables, a fireplace with a mantel, and a chair. Everything even rests in the exact way it does at our house, at every home in my Compound.

“Thorne?” I call out.

My voice echoes back to me before he yells that he’s upstairs.

I can see Sara everywhere in the exact same way. Except here, the floor is covered in trash. Broken glass. Pieces of paper. More trash. A broken chair. A plate that’s cracked in half. There’s even a toilet seat in the middle of the floor.

“Neely, come up!” Thorne yells.

I do, and I already know where I’ll find Thorne.

He’s in the third door on the left in a drafty room with no lights or candles. There’s a single large bed with a disgusting mattress, a desk to the left with a lamp, and a window that’s boarded up. It smells musty in here, like dirty socks and mold. Thorne sits on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. When I come in and lean against the door frame, he glances at me for a moment and then looks away again.

“I hate the thought of you with him,” Thorne says with a pause. “I hate all of it.”

I sigh and tap my fingers on the splintered wood of the door. “There’s nothing between us.”

Thorne’s eyes snap up to me. “You keep saying that. I have so many questions. I don’t want something to happen and for us to have never said the truth to each other.”

I move and sit next to him, taking his hand. I steady my emotions and wait until I can feel his worry form a lump in my throat. I want him to know that I’m not lying. I can’t lie while I’m touching him or he’ll know. This feels like the only way.

“If you ask me, I swear
I
will tell you, but make sure you want the answers, Thorne. Because I love you. I want you to trust me.”

He pauses. “Only because of the branding?” “Maybe,” I say. The connection doesn’t change, and he nods softly. “But also because I know you completely, and that part is real.”

Thorne pauses. “Did you kiss him?”

I pull my hand away. “Do you really want that answer?”

He takes it back. “Yes,” he says, and I feel the steadiness again.

“Yes,” I say.

Thorne curses and stands. I touch his arm, and it’s only half a second but he lets his guard down. I feel it- everything. More emotion that I knew he could ever feel at once. He wants to yell, to punch someone, to break something. The anger he feels toward Xenith, not even toward me, is overpowering. He wants to forgive me, to be okay, to kiss me and show me that he’s the one I’m meant for. He feels like he needs to prove himself, to prove us. I’ve hurt him in ways that he can’t place, and then there’s something else- disappointment. In me. In the fact that I don’t trust us, even though I trust Xenith. And at the thought of Xenith, he comes back to hatred, to anger, to all the reasons I’m a fool for trusting him.

“Thorne, I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Neely, don’t. That doesn’t change anything.” Thorne sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, paces around the room. I know what he feels, but I have no idea what I feel. His gaze snaps back to me, and he takes my hand to feel the connection.

“If they can take the branding away like we heard, do you still want them to?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Do you feel anything for Xenith?”

I think about Xenith. The boy I knew since we were children, the one who never seemed to fit. He brought me here, and he lied about Thorne-but I did, too. When we were alone, he was something else. Someone kind and challenging, someone who was always there. I liked his kiss, his presence, but he wasn’t Thorne. He didn’t have what we have. But what if all we have is because of the branding? If it were gone, would we still feel so passionately? Xenith is far from normal, but he’s not like me, and that is something I long for since I don’t know who I am without the branding.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe?” I exhale. Thorne does, too. “I’m sorry. All I can say is he’s not you.”

“But you don’t even know if you trust that what we have is real.”

I pause. “But I trust you.”

“Okay,” he says.

“I’m sorry I never told you about this part from the beginning. I thought I was doing what was best. You have to know that.”

“I do,” he says, and then he drops my hand and heads into the other room.

6 DAYS BEFORE ESCAPE

XENITH’S IN THE OTHER ROOM,
bent down so all I can see is his head. I look back at my book. Xenith has amazing books from the Old World that I’ve never heard of before. There’s nothing else to do aside from plan and wait, so I read
.

“Are you going to shower?” Xenith calls
.

I don’t reply, just keep reading. This story is written in old English, but I like it. Girls wore big dresses and had dances. They were stronger than most of the girls I know, dealing with marriage and no wealth and lies
.

“You,” Xenith says. I look up from the book, and he’s staring at me
.

“Me,” I say. “I’m reading.”

He shakes his head. “You’re taking a shower.”

“I did.”

“When?”

I pause. “Yesterday.”

He smiles and pulls the book from my hand. “Don’t lie to me, Neely. It’s time. You’re starting to smell.”

“I am not!”

Xenith crosses his arms in front of me. “Now. I will drag you there if I have to.”

I shake my head, and then he’s got me over his shoulder. He’s carrying me into the bathroom, and I’m kicking my feet, begging him. The water is already running into the bathtub, pouring from the top spout. The sound of its sloshing shakes my nerves. He sets me down by the sink, and tears start to run down my cheeks. I’m shaking and sobbing. It’s not totally because of the shower; it’s because of everything. It’s leaving and dying and living. It’s being here with him. It’s what happens in a week
.

The air is warm and sticky with steam. He wipes a tear from my cheek. His hands are on my chin, forcing me to look at him
.

“You have to do this, Neely.” His voice is soft, as if he’s talking to a child. I guess I’m being one. “This isn’t something you can be afraid of. Not you. Not now.”

“When I close my eyes, I can still feel the waves.”

Xenith wraps me up in his arms and pulls me in. I let his arms cover me and hold me closer. I let his words whisper in my ear. I let his hand run through my hair. I let myself inhale his earthy, minty scent. Maybe it’s the steam that’s building up around me, or the sadness I feel about being alone, but my brain starts to make my body do things on its own
.

My lips press against his warm neck, trace up to his jaw. He pulls away and looks at me like he’s lost, too. Everything I see in his glance matches the way I feel. I say his name softly. Seconds pass by, each of us staring at the other. Then his lips touch mine. Our kiss is hesitant and innocent. Then it’s not. Our bodies crash into each other. My mouth is not my own, not the way it’s pressing against his. My hands run along his back, and he pulls me in to deepen our kiss. Our lips and our tongues are searching for that lost thing, hoping to find it in the other person
.

Everything is right in this moment-so right and less alone that I sigh into his mouth. My hands slide under his shirt and pull it over his head. He doesn’t stop me. He kisses my neck near my branding, and I forget everything. I don’t know what this is or why I’m kissing Xenith right now or why I don’t want to stop. My fingers run across his warm back. He stiffens at my touch
.

Xenith jumps and pulls away from me, backing up against the wall and looking at me like I’m some kind of ghost. We’re both panting, and my skin is sticky from the fog of the shower. He runs a hand through his hair, and it’s so Thorne that my heart skips a beat at the betrayal
.