Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) (40 page)

Towns still inhabited were few and far between though, leaving whole villages and towns deserted, their occupants fleeing into the shelter of the woods, as if their tree’s and underbrush would offer them more safety than their own homes; the buildings in them standing like massive gray ghosts, mournful and forsaken, sighing for the return of their people.

This isn’t right
, Rowan thought as she looked around yet another abandoned graveyard of empty buildings, their windows staring down at her as if she were to blame for their vacancy. Trash littered the streets, grown soggy then molded from the rain, emitting a foul smell that caused Rowans eyes to water painfully, the smell clinged to Rowan’s skin and clothes and Rowan knew no matter how many baths she took, the smell of decay would linger on her, swirling up memories and heartache.

Is this what my brother wants, to be God over a fearful and rotted world?
Rowan asked herself as they passed through a once vibrant village, now desolate, a pack of rats scampering through the street in front of her. Rowan’s body shook with grief at the once, no doubt, beautiful, effervescent city, now turned to nothing but a memorial for a lost people.

“NO. Elias does not want this.”
Carter said to her as they picked their way dismally through the streets, looking for any sign of life and finding none, save for the rats, who had disappeared into overgrown grass that had once been the front yard of a sturdy looking house, now crumbling into its brown overgrown lawn.

“Well this is what he got.”
Rowan snapped back, her heart shrinking as they came across a woman lying face down in the dirt, her skin sunken in from Gods knows how many months laying there in the dirt road. Maggots crawled around the side of her face and Rowan could see the flesh on her hand had been picked away by scavenging birds, revealing gray bones underneath. Her arms were wrapped around a small body, no older than an infant was, as if to shield it from the world and its inevitable death. The baby lay wrapped in a light blue blanket, now faded and torn, dark splotches of blood stained the fabric.

Rowan slid from her horse, turned her head, and wretched into the street.

She did not want to relive this again, baring witness to all the despicable things Elias had done, Rowan did not need any more ghosts. Maybe he had not killed that woman directly, but his actions had led to her and her child’s death. Rowan rubbed her hands across her face, trying to scrub, erase, forget, the images of the dead from her mind.

I cannot do this again. I’m chasing after something
, she began to realize
, that does not exist anymore
. The brother she knew was as dead as the woman and child in front of her, the monster who had taken his place had sold the brother she knew’s soul. Traded it for the power of Gods.

Rowan swayed on her feet, dizzy, and angry, and sad.

Will I have to sell my soul too
? She had already killed someone. Sure, he was probably going to kill her, but he was still dead by her doing. How long had it taken Elias to take his first innocent life, would she be just like him, if she continued to follow him as she was?

Jacob’s words struck her then.
This path your on will not bode well for you, abandon it lest you end up just like him.
Rowan staggered backward, the old man’s words spiraling sharply in her head from beyond the grave.

“Rowan?” Carter said concerned, coming up behind her and lightly touching her shoulder.

“Don’t.” Rowan said hastily, throwing her arm out behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Will I end up just like Elias?
Was this destruction and death all her and her brother were capable of? She didn’t want this, she never wanted any of this.

What really did she owe the brother that had abandoned her? How had she let Carter talk her back into chasing after him, what hope did she have of saving him when she knew long ago that he was beyond being saved?

“Rowan?”
Carter tried again staggering where he stood, his voice edged as Rowan’s tumultuous emotions assaulted him.

“JUST STOP!”
Rowan shouted at him, covering her ears with her hands as though that might keep him out of her head.

I do not owe Elias anything
! Rowan thought, the world around her spinning and tripping over itself, blurring into a gray streak of anger and defeat. After all, he had abandoned her! He had left her with their abusive mother, for all he knew she could have killed Rowan after he had left! But did that stop him from running off and leaving her, or caring what happened to her? He damned sure didn’t!

No,
Rowan thought, desperate anger crashing over her in waves until she was gasping in air, drowning in an ocean of sorrow with no hope of learning how to swim, to keep her head afloat.
Elias stopped being my brother the minute he ran from me that night.
Rowan turned on her heel. She could feel the group’s eyes on her as she walked through them, shoving her way back the way they had come, each step away from Elias making her chest tighter constricted suffocating and Rowan gasped in air, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, hot and salty, though Rowan did not even notice them.

Pickard reached out and grabbed her arm causing the Beast inside Rowan to roar to life unbidden. “Do not touch me.” Rowan said, her voice iced with enmity. Pickard fell back, landing in the dirt and he looked up at Rowan with eyes wide with shock.

Rowan blinked, as if clearing her head, confusion flicking over her for a fraction of a second. “Pickard, I’m-“ Rowan started, her throat seizing. She turned from him, and ran. She ran as fast as she could, not knowing where she was going, not caring, one foot in front of the other, pounding along the road, water splashing up with each painful step.

Rowan ran until her lungs felt scorched and her sides were nothing but a wall of pain and still she ran, the gray ghost buildings watching as this broken girl flung herself past them.

Rowan tripped over her numb feet, falling to the ground, tears falling from her eyes to the mud beneath her. She beat her hands on the ground as she had when Tomman had died. She screamed freely, all her sorrow anger and pain built into one uninhibited sound. Her heart ripped itself from her chest leaving a gaping hole and Rowan could almost see it there, in front of her, lying in the mud, slowly stopping beating, bleeding red, staining the streets with her condemned soul.

Rowan collapsed to the ground, her eyes glazed over, not breathing, her heart not beating, because it all just hurt too damn much! Rain pounded down on her; her clothes were soaked, her bones were soaked, as if the rain could wash her clean and make her new again. Rainwater mixed with the water from her eyes and Rowan hoped, prayed, that the water from the sky was enough to drown someone.

She closed her eyes in surrender.

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“Rowan, come on.” Carter said, trying to pull her up, but she was sopping dead weight, immobile and uncooperative. Rowans breaths were shallow and her heart beat painfully slow, her skin was sickly pale and her eyes were puffy and ringed with red though they stared blankly out through her lids. “Rowan.” Carter said impatiently. Rowan didn’t move, didn’t blink. If not for the faint pulse in her neck, Carter would have thought she was dead.

He had felt it when she broke, as if a knife had been jammed though his ribs into his heart, and the pain of it was so strong it had almost shattered him along with her. Carter hadn’t expected to sense her so intensely, he didn’t even know the connection could be that strong. It was only ever basic thoughts and emotions with Elias; but with Rowan, it was as if his eyes had been opened and he was seeing the world for the first time.

When Carter sensed Elias it was mostly menacing and murky, clouded with rage and regret, with tiny flares of the luminous person that lay beneath all the darkness. It was those moments of pure light that Carter had fallen for.

However, when he sensed Rowan, it was as if he was flying. She was able to view the world in a beautiful, innocent way. Their connection was like the sun cresting the horizon in the morning, effortless and pure. Without the connection to Rowan, Carter felt drained, as if the world was duller and farther away and he was looking at it through dirty distorted glass. Carter had not even known the world had been so gray before he met Rowan, and he would be damned if he could go back to that now that he knew something better was out there. After all, he did deserve the absolute best.

But now as she laid here, he could not sense her at all. It was as if Rowan did not exist inside herself, she was but a shell of who she had formally been, a hollow lump of clay with arms and legs and dead eyes. Carter had never been more scared for another person in his life. “Rowan please.” Carter begged for what, he thought, must have been the first time in his life. Carter felt a spark in her, but it quickly died again and he smacked the ground beside him in frustration.

Carter scooped Rowan into his arms, staggering slightly with her added weight. Her head flopped back, her eyes staring vacantly at the dark gray sky. Carter kicked open the door to the nearest house still intact, the wood splintering on its hinges.

It was little more than a wood shack but the walls were sturdy and held under the weather. Inside was all one room, with a small table and wood stove on one side and a moderate sized bed on the other. Carter gently placed Rowan on the bed, her body and clothes saturating the blankets with water within seconds.

Carter pushed back her black hair from her face and searched under the bed for more blankets. He smiled triumphantly, but it quickly faded, as he found some. He pulled them all out and laid them over Rowan, tucking her into them tightly. Chev and Pickard stood stoically behind him, wearing similar expression of concern.

They were still a few days from Daria and if Carter had any hope in bringing Rowan back, he had entrusted it to Varin.
Please Varin. Please hurry.
Carter urged to himself, and frowned, hoping it wasn’t a new habit to begin begging. Really, he was above it.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Varin burst through the double doors, startling Elias, who had been staring intently into the fire. Varin was gasping for air, his hair was tousled and his cheeks were one big rosy splotch.

“Well.” Elias said with an eyebrow arched, taking in the large man.

“I’m sorry my Moval, I tried to stop him.” A soldier blustered, skittering to a stop behind the panting Varin.

“It’s fine, he’s one of mine.” Elias said bored, waving the soldier away with a slight flick of the wrist. The soldier bowed with a look of relief and disappeared quickly. “I sent you with Carter yes?” Elias asked, standing unhurried from the elaborate red chair he had been sitting in.

“It’s- its Rowan Moval. She needs you.” Varin wheezed out, his chest heaving up and down. Elias paused, his brow creased.

“Rowan?” Elias asked cautiously, as if the name didn’t sound familiar to him.

“Yes Moval, she needs you.” Varin panted again, clutching his shirt over his heart as if the organ threatened to pound right out of his chest.

“Rowan.” Elias repeated, trying to focus clearly on Varin through the haze that clouded his mind, it was like trying to scoop up water with a holey leaf.

“We must hurry Moval.” Varin said then winced as though Elias would strike him.

“Yes of course, of course.” Elias said, nodding his head. “We will go right away.” Elias walked briskly from the room, winding his way through the mansion toward the stables, Varin close behind.

When he reached the stables, he hopped atop Atma, a beautiful dark brown horse with kind eyes. Atma was always saddled these days, ready to flee the mansion on a moment’s notice. “Where is she?” Elias demanded, his power raging inside him, as it always was.

“Tarakan, my Moval. It will be a day and a half’s ride south west.” Varin shouted at Elias’s back as he spurred Atma forward. The horse vaulted from the stables into the clouded rain, Elias urging her as fast as he could.

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“Really? I thought in her vegetative state she could survive on hope and wishful thinking!” Carter snapped back. He felt desperate, another feeling that was new to him.
Rowan brings out the best and worst in me.
He had been pacing… and muttering… and cursing everything, including himself. He was not acting like himself and he rubbed his face wondering where the witty, self-assured Carter had gone.
Get it together Carter, your of no use to her like this,
he thought to himself.

“I’m, sorry?” Pickard said slowly, as not to upset Carter again with another suggestion.

Carter did not acknowledge him though, and continued his fevered pace of the small cabin. How was it possible that this small, infuriating woman could send him completely mad like this?
She’s Elias’s sister, if she dies, he will never forgive me.
Carter balked at the thought.