Nil on Fire (4 page)

She hadn't broken yet, a pleasant surprise, for when she did, the pain would be exquisite. The fight itself was proving to be as much fun as the break would be. And the snap of her mind would come; she was so much like her predecessor from years before, a male, Scott. He had thought himself a match for the island.

He had been no match at all.

But this female was different. Special. She fought, hard, with an intensity that was admirable, but in the end, she would bend to the island too. And then she would break.

They all did.

Perhaps she wasn't special after all, the island thought with disappointment. After all, she was only human.

Abruptly it tired of her.

It wanted to break her,
now
.

 

CHAPTER

10

SKYE

JUNE 5, AFTER NOON

Something has changed.

The day I got too close to the edge, the fragile balance between me and the darkness shifted, and not in my favor. Now I know I
can't
win, not if the darkness brings all it has to our battle. It's bigger than me,
stronger
than me, and suddenly, more intent on
me
. On
consuming
me, as crazy as that sounds. But the defiant part of me refuses to accept that the war is already lost. Maybe it's not the strength of the fighter but size of the heart that decides the victor.

I don't think the darkness has a heart.

But I do.

It gives me a chance; it must. It's what I tell myself to give myself hope. Because there's always hope, right? It's what I told Paulo, once.

Paulo.

At first I thought the voice belonged to Paulo, asking why I left him behind. Then I thought it was Dex, asking why I chose him. Why I
didn't
choose him.

Now I know it's someone else entirely. Someone as trapped by the darkness as I am.

The voice belongs to a girl, and my instincts tell me she's in trouble.

That makes two of us.

My name is Skye Bracken, and I'm still here. Barely. This is the sad truth.

 

CHAPTER

11

RIVES

JUNE 7, DEAD OF NIGHT

I'm losing Skye.

She lay beside me in the dark, my arm curved around her waist. Her last nightmare had just faded; her trembling finally stopped.

But she wasn't asleep.

Not by a long shot.

Lately she barely slept at all. She was a walking ghost. Pale, eyes rimmed in gray, drifting through the day, a shadow of herself.

It made me furious, because I was so damn helpless.

Skye relaxed, then to my relief, she finally drifted off. She'd barely slept five minutes before she tensed.

“No!” she rasped, her entire body rigid, her fists balled tight around the sheet.

“Skye,” I whispered. “It's just a dream.”

I caught the wisp of a giggle. A cruel cackle, cloaked in the dark. But it wasn't Skye laughing, and nothing about the night was funny.

It was a remnant of Nil.

You let us go
, I thought. Fury ripped through my veins.
It's over.

You left
, came the thought, cold and amused.
But I never let you go.

Fifteen minutes later Skye's nightmare roared back.

Wake, dream, scream, repeat.

When the day broke, I shook off the dark. It was time to get Skye help,
now
. And I knew exactly who to call.

I slipped onto the balcony and rang Skye's dad.

He answered in seconds. “Rives?” Concern rippled through his voice. “Is everything all right?”

“I need your help.” I paused. “Something's wrong with Skye, and it has to do with Nil.”

 

CHAPTER

12

NIL

AFTER NOON

This one may have been a poor choice.

The sense of him during passage was profound, both his strength and flaws. The island waited for him to wake, knowing that the time to choose a different one had passed. Time was the one element out of the island's control.

Now the male was here.

The rest would be up to him.

In recent weeks, the island's capacity for guidance and protection had shrunk dramatically, especially with the energy constantly directed toward the ones beyond the seam, an expenditure of electria both necessary and debilitating.

More precious electria had been required to sustain those humans already here.

The last of the island's waning power had been needed to acquire four-legged creatures rather than two-, for the humans did not bring enough to sustain themselves. However, the behavior of such creatures and the humans' reactions to them were as unpredictable as the humans themselves. Sometimes the humans saved the creatures, sometimes they killed them, their choices bewildering at best.

The island marveled at the humans' capacity for compassion and cruelty in equal parts. It was amazed by the depth of love and hate and passion and callousness, of selfishness and selflessness. Never before had the island experienced such a range of emotion, such a boundless capacity to destroy, and also, to save. And to hope. Each arrival held a seed of faith—in themselves, in others, in their future, in something greater. Some seeds were larger than others, but all were to be nurtured, for with that growth came strength.

And the island needed the strength desperately.

But it would not take more than it needed, for there was strength in restraint, too. A strength born of free will, another lesson the humans had taught the island. Now, choice remained the island's best hope, and of course, hope itself. Hope that the humans would see what must be done, both now and in the days to come.

The male stirred.

Withdrawing, the island waited.

*   *   *

Calvin groaned, his head clearing abruptly. Within seconds, he was on his feet, running.

Around him, black rock stretched for miles, an eerie land, foreign and silent. Rock as charcoal black as the soundless tunnel he'd just passed through, with a doorway he'd barely seen. He'd been stalking through the parking lot, pissed off at having to run laps after Coach called him out for slacking off, as if he hadn't already proven that he was the best. The best sprinter, the best athlete on the team—the best athlete in the
state
, period. After all, he'd won the Mr. Football award as a junior, solid proof that he was the best. Hell, he was the best running back the state of Alabama had ever seen. He knew it.

He also knew that right now, he was seriously screwed; he just didn't understand how, or why. Darkness had appeared in front of his face, then swallowed him whole. Darkness that had seared his skin like an invisible brand, so painful that when the fire turned to ice, it still burned. And it stayed unnaturally black.

And now he ran, across charcoal ground like an ancient firepit of giants. No matter he'd already run six miles before the air swallowed him, no matter that his thighs still ached. He pushed himself across the open rock, not sure where he was running to or what he was running from. He was six feet two, with muscles cut from stone, shaped by his father, a former defensive back for the Chicago Bears and the pride of Dothan, Alabama. He hadn't been afraid to stand up to his coach, to tell him he was wrong. To tell Coach that he, Calvin Jackson, had the best legs on the team and Coach was damn lucky to have him anchor the 400-meter relay. He hadn't been afraid, not then.

But now, as he ran over the rocks, he was terrified. He'd never been afraid, not like this. Despite the blue sky, all he saw was black.

Swirling blackness coursed through his head, a churning, seething darkness that seemed a direct reflection of his feelings in the moment the hot air engulfed him.

It's not a coincidence
, he thought with fear.
I'm being punished.

And he ran on, desperately, not sure what he was searching for.

*   *   *

The one called Calvin certainly enjoyed the feel of flight.

He ran, his electria flowing through his veins and muscles and tissue with impressive force and endurance.

But the depth and breadth of the male's fear was highly disappointing.

Fear opened the door to darkness; sometimes fear
was
the door. The island accepted the unfortunate possibility that fear would dominate this male, a counterproductive development. Fear wasn't inherently negative, but with these humans it certainly could be.

Perhaps the island had chosen in error. Perhaps the island had been drawn to the wrong sort of strength. It had happened before.

But as the one called Calvin ran on, the island reserved judgment. Perhaps he would surprise the island. That had happened before too. Regardless, he was strong. And he was here.

Despite the new blood, the island still wanted
her
.

It
needed
her, the one called Skye. The island understood her like no other, as she understood the island.

But the island could not understand why she had not
seen
.

The island felt the weight of time, the inherent intractability of it. The island had reached for her over and over again, pushing the limits of both the barrier and her mind. Still, she remained frustratingly out of reach, even after the shift in power she had brought upon herself. It was a reality the island could not help but admire. Her force of will was strong as iron, forged in a cauldron not of the island's making.

That must change,
the island decided.

Her will must bend
for
the island, not against it. Because if she did not answer soon, the time for her to answer would pass and the consequences would be disastrous. The island's reserves leached out like time,
with
time, bleeding power with each hour that passed. Soon the island would not be able to call her at all, or keep the seam intact.

Yes,
the island decided, watching the male run, thinking of
her
. The time was now. A new card must be played. It would not be easy, or without pain, but the one called Skye was strong. She could bear it.

And so it would be.

With all the force it could muster, the island summoned the past to win the future. To win
her
.

Skye.

 

CHAPTER

13

SKYE

JUNE 10, MORNING

Skye.

Look at me, Skye. Look at me.

She sounded closer than ever before.

LOOK.

Fine
, I snapped.
You win.
She'd been begging me all night.
I'll look.

I turned toward her voice and was shocked to actually
see
her; she was extraordinarily clear. A girl my age stood in the darkness, as real and alive and tired as me; she didn't float inside the darkness but rather seemed bound by it. A sense of kinship washed through me as she reached out, her blue eyes desperate. She was as trapped as I was; we shared a nightmare from which I couldn't wake.

Help me. Choose
me
.

I stepped closer. I needed to help her, to pull her free.

Maybe she would free us both.

The thought brought a sense of hope I hadn't felt in weeks.

The darkness didn't move. Her lips did.

Skye.

SKYE.

Rives's voice drowned out the girl's, which was odd because he wasn't shouting and I couldn't see him. But I could hear him, in the dark, in this faraway place where I hadn't heard him lately at all—and then I felt him. His voice wrapped me in warmth, pulling me close by a velvet thread. He was my tether, my grounding force. I would not be lost, not with Rives. The tether went taut.

The girl faded; the darkness surged.

Panic rose. Rives shouldn't be here, not this far into the dark. The darkness's greed seeped into the marrow of my bones: it wanted Rives, too. Suddenly I was terrified—for me, for Rives, for the girl … for all of us fighting in the dark, together but very much alone.

Rives!
My shout vanished without an echo, blackness filling my mouth in the wake of my words.

I woke, abruptly wrenched into the light, gulping air.

Rives's name lingered on my lips, but the real flesh-and-blood version sat beside me on the couch. He looked sick as he studied me.

“Are you okay?” I reached for his face, but he intercepted my hand.

“Stop,” he said. “What about
you
? You were dreaming. And screaming. I had to shake you awake, Skye. Ready to talk about it?”

“I can't even remember.” I stretched, smiling, taking pains to slow my breathing.

Rives stared at me. “You're an atrocious liar, you know that? Like the Oscar-winning performance of a bad liar.” Lines of sunlight streaked across his face from the open shutters, but his eyes stayed shadowed. “Your nightmares are getting worse, Skye. You can't ignore them anymore. We have to deal with it. If you won't talk to me, what about Jillian?”

I looked away.

Stop
, a tiny part of myself said.
Stop pressing. Don't make me go there in the day.

“I already talked to Jillian, remember?” I offered casually.
She's got her own demons to face
, I wanted to say.
She doesn't need mine, too.
But instead I said, “And I've talked to Charley a ton. I'm good.”