Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) (9 page)

“Sure.” Rin said turning quickly to look once more at Jace, as if committing him to memory, then he slipped into the crowd and Jace lost sight of him.

Jace finished his purchases quickly, rushing back to Rowan who was standing at the edge of Market that bordered the forest, looking over the crowds as if she had lost something precious. Pickard was already standing with her, a dark tan bag slung over his shoulder, and another man Jace didn’t know the name of–but would soon learn was Barton- but had seen at Market a few times, was standing with her.

The group of four looked at each other a moment, stamping their feet in the late afternoon cold.

“Shall we?” Rowan said, breaking the silence that had creeped upon them. Jace nodded his head.
I’ll follow you to the ends of the world, Rowan.

SIX MONTHS AGO- FEBURARY

“What do you think about, when you look so far away like that?” Jace said to her, rousing himself away from thoughts of the past, surprising even himself that he had spoken aloud.

Rowan turned slowly, thoughtfully, a sad look crossing her face that she quickly wiped away. She eyed him a moment before gathering herself and moving to sit by him, making his heart stammer and he hoped she couldn’t hear it. “If you could make any one do anything you ever wanted, would you?” She asked him gently, her voice like the summer breeze as it skimmed across a shimmering blue pond.

Jace thought a moment
. If I could make you love me, too, I would do it in a heartbeat
.
But
then,
he thought,
she would not really love me, and would probably hate me for making herself think she did.
“No, because whatever you wanted them to do wouldn’t be real. It would all be a lie, and I wouldn’t want that kind of control over anyone.” Jace paused. She was looking at him intently, and it was hard to focus on breathing when those blue eyes stared at him like that. “I think it would be a terrible thing to have.” He added, thinking of her brother and if she thought the same.

A fraction of a minute later she nodded almost imperceptibly. For a while, he thought she would not say anything else, and he was content just to sit by her, their arms almost touching. If he just moved his so slightly-

“I think about the past. About my life, what could have been different.” She said lightly, he thought more to herself then to him. She sounded immeasurably sad, and he wanted to do anything, and everything, to make her sound happy.

Jace hesitated a second, before allowing his arm to move that fragment of an inch to touch hers. She jerked away immediately, her head whipping to stare at him in confusion. He started to say he was sorry, but as he opened his mouth to do so, he saw a look flicker across her face. Resolution maybe, before she settled down, placing her arm gently against his with a deep exhale of breath.

“Is this ok?” Rowan asked delicately as if her touch would hurt him, indecisiveness creeping into her voice. Jace could only nod as he looked into her eyes, his skin sizzling where her arm touched his, falling perhaps more in love with her than humanly possible.

They sat there a while, breathing in the cold, Jace’s chest rising and falling, his senses hyper aware with Rowan so close.

     “It’s Elias’s birthday today, you know.” Rowan spoke softly, staring at the ground in front of her.

“I didn’t.” Jace replied softly, unsure of how to respond.

“He’s 20 now.” Rowan told him, her voice soft and slow. “What do you think he’s doing?” Rowan asked suddenly, swiveling her head to look at him. She looked vulnerable, and broken, Jace blinked slowly, trying to clear the guilty feelings that had crept upon him though he wasn’t the cause of her distress.

“I think he’s thinking about you. Wondering what you’re doing.” Jace answered, hoping he was saying the right thing.

Rowan turned her eyes from him, but not before he saw the shimmer of a tear slip from her eye. “Rowan.” Jace sighed, concerned.

Rowan stood, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ 

Jace stood behind her as she began to walk off, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. He pulled her to him, her small body feeling fragile and slim pressed against his, the top of her head resting just under his nose. Rowan was rigid, her body tense and stiff.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry. Not to me.” Jace told her, wrapping his arms around her and holding on as if his life depended on it.
I might die if I have to let her go,
Jace thought, closing his eyes as Rowan relaxed against him, letting herself be held.

A cricket sounded near them, a break in the silence that had overtaken the world, reminding him that they weren’t the only beings in existence. Rowan pulled away from him, as if startled.

“Thank you.” She said hastily, her eyes downcast as if in shame. She hurried off, fleeing back into the cabin the group and them had been staying in the past couple days. Jace felt cold in her absence, staring off after her and relishing the fact that after all these years, he had finally held her. He knew what her body felt like against his, and it was better than he had ever imagined.

SIX

FIVE MONTHS AGO-MARCH

The night was blinding. Stars winked down at him, mocking his predicament. Galamee sneered back at them as he slunk through the darkened alleyways like a rat. His heart pounded as he strained his ears to listen to the darkness around him, his eyes darting around him though it was near impossible to see anything. His breath puffed out in short gasps as he hid against a wall, tucking himself beside a large pile of garbage. Someone one just happening down the alley would barely notice him, he blended so well with the discarded trash giving off a foul smell.

A footstep echoed at the front of the alley and Galamee shrunk in on himself, his foot making a too loud swishing sound as he adjusted his position, he cringed back lower, desperately trying to conceal himself. He was scared, petrified, so filled with terror that his body shook, his heart ripping itself through his chest bones. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging into his eyes as he blinked rapidly, trying to slow his breathing.

“Are you down there Galamee?” A gruff voice called down the alley, mocking him same as the stars. Galamee stopped breathing as heavy footsteps drew closer to his position. “You can’t hide forever! Jameson will find you one way or another, you owe him a lot of money, and he intends to make you pay it!” The voice rang out, cold and clear through the night like a birds whistle but with tenfold the malice and Galamee knew that voice would not hesitate to break a few bones if it were to find him perched where he was.

Galamee sucked in a sharp breath as he heard the man swinging a large stick at similar piles of trash along the alleyway, trying to flush out Galamee’s hiding place. Galamee squeezed his eyes shut, wishing away the all-consuming fear that was gripping his body, wishing away the debts he owed Jameson, wishing away the man with the stick, terrified of the swishing that loomed closer and closer still.

“GALAMEE!” The voice shouted, frightening a few birds and they took off from the roof of a building, scattering a few brown leaves to the ground. Galamee remained where he was, rooted to the spot with terror though his limbs ached to move, to stretch, but he was to coward to run and knew even if he did the voice would catch him, would break him, and would kill him.

The swishing stopped and once again Galamee was thrust into silence as the footsteps retreated, off to search another alley, anther pile of trash, not Galamee’s pile of trash. Galamee smirked in the darkness, maybe he would get away with swindling Jameson out of thousands of coins after all. He would just needed to get out of town for a while. Miranda would not be happy about that.

Galamee let out a groan of pain as he stood up, his bones creaking at the strain. His eyes glinted under the moonlight mischievously, proud of himself for pulling one over on Jameson. Galamee’s short chubby legs carried him down the alley, and across streets. Miranda would be furious at him when he got home.

Galamee was out of breath when he reached the rundown home he shared with his fiancée Miranda, his lungs burning as they tried to suck in the cool night air. Galamee soothed down his rumpled shirt and vest over his rotund stomach, pushing his greasy hair back from his face.

He opened the door; more silence greeted him, like an old friend, wrapping him in an embrace. “Miranda?” he questioned the house, a small candle flickered in the kitchen, casting menacing shadows along the walls. “Miranda?” he called a little louder, stepping into the dirty house, and closing the door, it felt like he was being eaten by a beast.

“Damnit.” He cursed, Miranda had asked him to pick up some food, they had barely anything in their cupboards, but he had been sidetracked by a game of cards, betting the money she had given him for food, and loosing it all, and then some. Now he was here empty-handed. Galamee eyed their empty cupboards a single jar of preserved fruit standing like a lone soldier among the dust. He was half-tempted to go back out the way he came, it would save him a headache from Miranda’s nagging at least.

He had eaten at the card games, served by a pretty young waitress and he had tipped her well for the stew she had brought him, hoping if he threw enough money at her… well, if Jameson hadn’t demanded the debt he had incurred through months of gambling, he would be with the waitress tonight instead of this hell hole that he called a home. Miranda would just have to settle for the old fruit, he certainly was not going back out tonight.

Galamee made his way into the bedroom, stripping off his soiled clothes and letting them fall to a heap in the middle of the floor. “Miranda, I need you to wash my clothes tomorrow!” he shouted gruffly to the silent house.
Where the hell was that woman? “
MIRANDA!” he shouted, and was answered with a small thump from the second bedroom.

Galamee’s face twisted in anger, who was she to keep him waiting? She should have been out there as soon as he came home to comfort him after the night he’d had. Galamee finished dressing in a pair of itchy pants and a cream-colored shirt. He made his way to the second bedroom, meant to be converted to a nursery whenever Miranda decided she wanted to have a squalling child. Personally, he didn’t care for children, but if it made her happy, he was a generous man… and she would do all the work anyways.

Galamee pushed open the door to the second bedroom, moonlight spilling through the one small window. The room was empty, had always been empty, except for a new addition of a body shaped lump laying on the floor against the far wall under the window. “Miranda?” Galamee questioned. Stepping into the room, he walked hesitantly over to the lump. He knelt down next to the body, feeling for a pulse. He felt oddly detached as his fingertips brushed a faint

Buh…

Buh…

Buh…

Beneath him Miranda made a chocking sound and Galamee rolled her over onto her back, a warm liquid sloshing over his fingertips. Galamee gasped, scooting backwards on his hands and knees, away from her, his eyes wide with terror.

“Ga-ga-mee” Miranda gasped, her fingers reaching out for comfort from him, but he only stared at her body, at the dagger protruding from her chest, leaking her life’s blood onto the hard floor. Miranda began to cry, soft tears rolling down her cheeks. “Galmeeeeee,” Miranda slurred, her body starting to tremble, “peeeassssss, hee-help mee.” She whispered, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

Galamee stared at the thick piece of paper under the dagger, PAY UP, written in scraggly writing across the surface, a smear of blood in the corner.

PAY UP, flashing over and over in his mind.

PAY UP, written across Miranda’s body.

PAY UP.

PAY UP.

“Peeaasssssss…” Miranda gasped, her fingers outstretched. Galamee scooted further away from her, backing into a wall as though her condition were contagious.

“Miranda…” Galamee shook his head, coming to a stand. She was already dying, there was nothing he could do for her, and she loved him, she would want him to be safe, she would not want him to suffer the same fate she had.

“Nooo, Galmee don’t peeass…” She begged.
Please leave, don’
t
die.
He twisted her words in his head, justifying leaving her there, bleeding out on the floor.

“I love you to, Miranda.” Galamee said monotonously, backing away from her as though she were a rabid animal.

“Noo, noo, peease, noo-“ Galamee shut the door on her, turning and fleeing the house, not bothering to shut the front door after himself.

PAY UP followed him through the night like his shadow, hurrying down back alleys and cutting across lawns, trying to escape those very words.

PAY UP, paid for with Miranda’s life.
Miranda won’t die, she’s strong. I’ll just leave for a bit, get enou
g
h
money to pay back Jameson, and then I’ll come back and we will get married.

Galamee ran for as long as he could, through the village and into the woods until at last he collapsed into the ground, a stick digging into his side, his lungs on fire, panting, and sweat dripping down his body.