Shades of Darkness (29 page)

Instead, it looked up at me with those dead black eyes and waited for the question still lodged at the back of my throat, the one I'd been fearing since I woke up to see Jane's body drawn in my hand.

“Are you the one doing this?” I whispered. “Am I?”

Munin's reply was fast and sharp.

No.

Then the raven plucked the crystal from my hand and took off, disappearing into the darkness.

I watched it fly off, my blood as cold as the snow. This had nothing to do with me then—this wasn't my past or curse catching up. This wasn't some strange karmic retribution. But that meant it was someone else. Someone else was killing my friends. And if it wasn't the gods I knew, I couldn't imagine being able to stop it from happening again.

Dreams tumble

Yggdrasil's roots stretch from floor to ceiling

break past desks and chairs

and there is Jonathan, drawing circles on the chalkboard

and there are the owls, sitting silent in their chairs, watching.

Waiting.

“You've come back,” she says

and I turn to see the violet-eyed girl.

She stands among shadows and ravens,

her blade drips blood.

“I thought you had turned away.”

“I need to know,” I whisper.

“I need to know what is happening.”

The girl presses a hand

to a gnarled root.

Ravens twine under treeflesh.

“The end times come,” she whispers.

“Our battlewith the Aesir comes,

but another . . .

another god stirs,

one who should not waken.”

“But my friends. Why are they dying”

“Because the gods require blood.

And this god starves.”

“But why them?”

She turns, and the raven on her shoulder tilts his head. Munin watches us. Waiting. His beak drips crimson.

“They were chosen,

as you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?”

“To serve.”

Shadows stretch and through the gaps

I see a battlefield, bodies prone and bleeding,

ravens harvesting.

“The owls are screaming,” she says,

tilting her head to the sky.

Blood drips against her porcelain skin.

“And the ravens have gone silent.”

“How do I stop it? How do I keep them safe?”

She steps closer and in her violet eyes I see the void.

“No one is safe. Not from what is yet to come.”

Her blade kisses my skin,

the tip drags against my neck.

“This is not how things were meant to be.

We must stop this new god.

Before he throws off the balance.

Before he kills again.”

“You saved me once. How do I save my friends?”

She doesn't smile.

But I swear that Munin does.

“By giving yourself to me. Be my vessel.

Together, we will fight him.

When he is gone, our battle with the Aesir may begin.”

Roots twist tighter around us,

bind my arms and legs.

“Vessel?”

Her blade presses deeper,

draws shadows from my neck.

“We gave you your life,”
Munin says.

“Now, it is time to give it back.”

Class resumed as normal the next day. I nearly slept through breakfast without Elisa there to wake me up, but at least when I did drag myself from bed there weren't any new scribbles in the notebook. My dreams were like a bad aftertaste in my mouth; I remembered only snippets of them, but I didn't want to know the details, not really. All I knew was that the thought of them made my pulse race, made me feel like I was living on borrowed time. Like everyone was. Every time I blinked I saw that damn circle, the one surrounding Jane and Brad and most likely Mandy. Every time the darkness closed in, I saw the violet-eyed girl with her hands in Chris's chest, offering him to the World Tree. Swearing that this was my power.

But in this case, it wasn't my power. If this was the same thing as what happened to me, a life for a life, then other kids were dying and being saved and having scapegoats go in their place. Was that even something I could stop? Maybe no one was summoning the gods—maybe the gods were coming here of their own accord. Meddling.

Another god stirs. . . .
Chills raced across my skin at the thought. It didn't make sense—none of it did—but did it even matter? Did the gods ever make sense to mortals? I had to save my friends. That was it. Understanding the gods' motivations could wait.

The boys were already at breakfast when I arrived, and there was an odd sort of tension between us when I sat down. Elisa and Oliver were deep in conversation about something in their shared French class, but Chris and Ethan just sat there, stirring coffee or picking at scrambled eggs and staring out the great picture windows at the frozen lake beyond. My stomach twisted. I wasn't an actor, but I knew I had to be cheerful, witty Kaira. It was the only way forward. But I really didn't think I had it in me today. Not with my carefully constructed walls between myth and mortality dissolving.

“How goes?” I asked, setting my tray down beside Ethan. He glanced over at me and shrugged.

Chris, at least, was a little more talkative.

“Sleepy,” he said. His jaw cracked with a yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Me too,” Elisa replied. “Though maybe it was from sleeping on the floor.”

“I have a funny feeling everyone's having bad dreams,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. He gave me a look that clearly said
especially after what we saw
. I knew he and I needed to talk. The painting studio discovery was probably more of a shock for him and Chris than it was for me, for different reasons. But he'd be more inclined to think there was a killer on the loose, rather than something mystical. I almost laughed; the fact that I was more comfortable with this being supernatural in nature rather than a psychopath was crazy.

“We should do something tonight,” Chris said. “You know, movie night or something.”

“We could rent a movie from the library,” Elisa ventured.

“Or go off campus,” Ethan said. His expression lit up—he was a Sagittarius, and I knew he was always eager to get on the road, even for small trips. “There's a really great comedy playing at the cinema.”

Of course he was the type of boy to say “cinema” rather than “movie theatre.”

I had no doubt the next few nights would be spent doing everything we could to get off campus. Something about Islington had changed—it no longer felt like a bastion of safety as it had before. It was starting to feel like a tomb.

We spent a few minutes talking about movies and homework and upcoming concerts. I couldn't focus on the conversation. It took everything I had to move my fork to my mouth and swallow. There was a voice screaming in the back of my mind, a goddess ranting about power and duty. The crows that kept sweeping past the windows didn't help. With every black shadow that crossed my gaze, her voice grew stronger.

“You okay?”

I shook my head and forced my attention back. Back to the cafeteria, back to my friends, and away from the oil of feathers and pressure of power. Chris looked at me with serious eyes; something about that expression helped root me down and force the voices away. When I was focused on him, the rest of the crazy world went silent.

I realized he'd asked me a question.

“Sorry,” I said, glancing down to my plate. “Just a bit distracted.”

He placed a hand over mine and squeezed my fingers. I didn't flinch like I usually would have. I was just too damn tired to care.

“I understand,” he said. And it sounded like he actually might. That was dangerous. “Do you need to talk?”

I shrugged. “I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind.”

“That's a lot of
just
s,” he replied. “I gotta head to class, but let me know if you need anything, okay? I'm here for you.”

I looked in his eyes again and felt the weight of his words.
I'm here for you.
I didn't want to admit how many years I'd yearned for someone to tell me that and mean it. Ethan and my mom, sure . . . but this was different. This made my heart ache with the promise of something I couldn't let myself desire. Then Brad's face flashed behind my eyes—him in the bathroom and him dead on the field—and I drew my hand back to my lap.

“Thanks,” I said. “I'll be fine.”

“Of course,” he replied. I could tell he was hurt by my withdrawal. It was better that way, though. There wasn't a point in falling for me. You couldn't date someone with a bloody past and no future.

I watched him walk away. Apparently I wasn't the only one.

“He's really sweet,” Elisa said. I turned around and realized she and I were the only ones at the table. Had Ethan and Oliver said good-bye without my noticing?

“He is,” I replied.

“I thought you said you weren't dating.”

“I'm not . . .” I couldn't finish the sentence. Everything I wanted to say felt like a lie.

She studied me for a moment. We'd spent so much of our friendship being smart-asses. There wasn't room for that anymore. Everyone's life had been colored by the events of the last few weeks. In this new hue, none of us could act the same.

“I think you should do it,” she said. “Fall hard and fast and don't think twice about getting hurt. Life's short, Kaira. Life's way too short. You gotta take the good when you can and that boy is about as good as it gets. I say this as your friend: If anyone's worth the hassle of falling in love, it's Chris.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. A week ago I would have told her it was stupid. I would have gotten pissed and said I couldn't date and how dare she tell me I should fall for a guy because I was independent and didn't need something as stupid as love. But now her words struck chords in me that drowned out the resentment.

Despite the fact that we had ten minutes before class, I didn't want to move. I didn't want this moment to end—it felt important, like this was the first breath after a long silence. Chris vanished through the door, but I could still sense him, still feel his hand over mine. And in spite of everything, he was the one thing in my world that felt right. For some insane, impossible reason, the wrongness of wanting to date Chris paled in comparison to the wrongness of everything else.