Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (43 page)

We believed in the wrong book. We held strong to its secrets because we didn’t know any better, because we thought we were lucky, magical, or entitled to the knowledge it offered us, and the Taker did everything to tear our world down, to tear us down, to make us and our purpose shatter into a million pieces.

Somewhere, another book like this existed, a connection to the Maker, but we wouldn’t get help from it any time soon.

I had to figure out how to get to the doors. My father did it. All the Guardians before me did it.
Think, Abigail. Think
.

Closing my eyes, I pictured the ivy, the stones, the wall, the door, but all I heard were the overwhelming sounds of people crying and horns blaring and helicopters, and all I felt was the sting of the sand, and the crushing weight of being fooled.

“Stop right there,” the man above me shouted, but I didn’t move.

I peeked through my lashes, trying to prevent the tiny granules from blinding me.

“You can put your hands down, but please tell me you figured this out.” Cuts and dirt covered Derick’s arms and face; Mark leaned against him, a bullet wound in his upper thigh, his jeans soaked with crimson.

“Oh my God. Mark’s hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.” He waved me off before I could even attempt to apply pressure to his leg. “Well, that is if you’ve figured out how to let the good guys in.”

Derick met my eyes and stared at me for a moment, then finally nodded. “She hasn’t.”

He must have seen the frustration written on my face.

“Where’s Will and Megan, and your parents?” I grabbed the book, propped my shoulder under Mark’s other arm, then we headed down the dune. I reminded myself of what he did to his parents, reminded myself I couldn’t trust him, that he could turn on me at any moment, ‘flip between his two selves until one of them takes control’ like Mr. Crawford said.

“Hidden just below and waiting for us, but we’re screwed.” Derick took a deep breath. “The spirits will be able to track our every move and stop us before we even think about changing direction. Dad says they’re everywhere by now.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Don’t make her feel bad.” Mark turned and kissed my cheek.

I cringed and had to swallow back bile that rose up my throat.

“Don’t make me add another bruise to your face.” Derick dropped his shoulder and let Mark fall on the beach next to the Crawfords, Will and Megan, who were all sweaty and caked in sand, nearly taking me down with him. Derick took my hands in his and closed the space between us, a closeness we’d never displayed in front of an audience; I liked it. “You can do this, Abigail. I know you can. It’s in your blood. You’re strong, smart. You don’t need that stupid book. Brendan Doran didn’t use it to open the planes. Abigail Nichols won’t use it either. We’ll keep you hidden here, but I don’t know for how long.”

I couldn’t say no to him. Not with him looking as if the rest of the world had disappeared and all he wanted to do was kiss me. Not when if I ever wanted that kiss, I’d have to figure this out. His confidence in me made me feel bolder than that book ever did.

Impossible tasks didn’t exist. Because in the world we grew up in, everything we’d recently experienced should have been impossible.

But it wasn’t.

“Okay.”

He smiled and quickly pressed his lips to mine, gone before I even got a chance to enjoy it. “I knew you’d do it. What do you need?”

“Not sure.” I sat down and crossed my legs. “Just quiet.”

Every time I envisioned the plane doors, I closed my eyes. But if the Taker Romanced the whole world, then the doors could be right in front of me. What if they were everywhere and only Guardians could see them? Like the way I saw through to Kalós in the woods behind my house.

The location of the doors could be the fourth plane the book mentioned, the one no one knew anything about.

Ignoring the fires and helicopters and shouting around me that I knew Derick kept us hidden from, I focused on the horizon, the way the moonlight bounced off the rippling waves. We all lived on one world and served a purpose here. We all belonged here, whether we liked it or not.

Air caressed my skin, and the cool sand floated away, replaced by lush green grass that felt like heaven to my feet. I twirled, arms out at my sides, taking in the canopy of trees, brilliant blue sky peeking through leaves here and there. “I did it.”

Now to find the right door. I ran to the wall covered in ivy and gathered armfuls of it, yanking the thick green vines from the crumbling cinder blocks then throwing it behind me until nothing but a wall with one door already wide open stood before me.

I had half a mind to shut it.

“Where’s the other?” I sighed and began inspecting the trees, hoping I might find a clue hidden in the trunk or high up in the branches, but I found nothing. I turned around—

Only to find another cinder block wall, charred with black marks and pocked with round dents all the way up to the top, which boasted hundreds of jagged pieces of metal reaching toward the sky. There, in the middle of the gothic and demonic looking structure, was an all-black door wearing wrought iron armor. Everything served as a threat to stay out.

How did I not see this before? Because I’d never turned around. I saw what the Taker wanted me to see. He’d helped me get here before, so he put me right where he wanted me.

Intuition told me not to take another step forward, but I opened the other gate without batting an eyelash, and that plane held things I had yet to understand. So I placed one bare foot in front of me, onto the smoking remains of what was once beautiful land, and the heat from some long-ago battle blazed against my sole. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming, then ran to the wall, picking up my feet as often as possible. It hurt. God, it hurt so badly. My skin welted instantly. My lungs filled with acidic air, and I gasped for breath, for relief.

Grabbing the handle, the iron seared my palm and a scream tore from my lips, but I turned and threw my weight against the wooden barrier between me and what I hoped was Kalós. The hinges groaned and I shoved my shoulder against the door again, and again. A sliver of bright white light filtered through a crack in the wood, as did sweet smelling air. I threw my weight one more time, and the door burst open—

“Abby!” Derick grabbed my shoulders. “Abby. Please be okay. Dad, look at her feet. They’re bleeding!”

“She’ll be okay. Just be thankful no one can hear us.”

I shook my head and blinked my eyes a bunch of times. Nothing hurt. My head swam a bit, but the pain from opening the plane left the instant I saw the ocean. “I’m all right.”

Derick whipped his head around, all the bravery, joy, hope, love, and life drained out of him. His eyes were red, surrounded by puffy skin tinged with yellow and black, and he took me in as if he never thought he’d see me alive again. “What happened? You screamed. A lot.”

“I opened the door. It hurt. A lot.” I half-smiled. “But I’m fine now.”

I lifted my right hand and showed it to Derick, healthy pink palm facing him, but he didn’t appear happy.

The others huddled together, whispering things, occasionally looking back, and then Mr. Crawford came to stand next to Derick, face ashen, and looked at something behind me. “Aedan.”

erick dove in front of me and blocked Aedan from coming any closer, but I pushed his arms down and stood in the open. Unafraid.

“We’ve all been lied to,” I said, staring at the man the Taker had shown me, except this Aedan had gray eyes, not black emotionless pits, and they focused on Mr. Crawford. The Elder wore the same style gear as Derick’s parents, not the suit with an air of sleaze as I’d originally expected. This man appeared kind but stern. Relieved but angry. “He’s not going to hurt us.”

I hope. Unless the book lied about that, too.

Aedan nodded stiffly, his wispy light red hair—also different from what the book showed me—shifting in the gusting wind. “You were all made fools of by a book. A book! Give that to me.”

I handed
Book of Red
over, glad to rid myself of it.

“Do you realize how much power you’ve given to our enemies? Do you realize how dangerous this plan of Brendan Doran’s was? Living on the human plane, as humans! Your powers are weaker. Your knowledge is pathetic. You’re all about as capable of killing a spirit as an infant is a lion.”

“They managed to kill Ruckus,” Mark said, limping forward. Sweat covered his face, and his lips matched the color of his cheeks. He needed a transfusion, fast.

“Yes, Mark Snellings. They managed to kill a lower spirit, one barely capable of raising chaos amongst humans.” Aedan checked Mark out, his eyes roaming from head to toe. “But they have yet to take care of you. What are your plans for this one, Adam? He can’t return to our home. He’s a breed like no other, and with the way he’s disgraced his family…”

“We’re not leaving him here.” I couldn’t imagine Mark surviving without his parents, or living with the guilt of what he’d done because he tried to help. He tried and failed, and even after Boredas injected him with blood of our enemies, he still thought he was doing the right thing by me. To force him into a life of solitude wouldn’t be fair. “He came back to help us.”

“Yes, well, I fail to see how any of that matters considering he chose his mother and father as target practice.”

“Can’t we find a way to help him?”

“No.” Aedan huffed. “This is not up for discussion, Abigail Doran. If he would like to object, there are many fellow Snellings here who would like to see him dead. He spilled innocent blood, good blood.”

“You can’t mean that. He didn’t ask Boredas to change him. He didn’t ask for this life, none of us did, but you can’t punish him! How will he survive—?”

“Abby, it’s okay.” Mark bit his lip and glanced out at the surf. “I’ll survive. I deserve this. I killed them. That potion showed my true colors—”

“And they’re green,” Derick said, his eyes glossing over as if going back into the drug-induced trance.

“Whatever. Until I know how to control what I am, there’s no way I can live around anyone—especially you.”

Derick growled. “Don’t talk to her as if you’re some innocent. I saw what you—”

“Smart decision, child. We need to get her to safety, Adam.” Aedan glanced at Will and Megan, his expression souring. “They’ll have to come as well; they wouldn’t be able to forget
her
if we left them behind. The boy is flooded with Affection, as is the girl.”

“Understood.” Mr. Crawford sighed, looking over Will and Megan.

“What? No!” Megan marched up to Aedan, her arms crossed; Will trailed behind her. He hadn’t said anything above a whisper for a long time, the loss of his dad no doubt eating him alive. “I’ve put up with enough shit in the last day. I’m not leaving with any of you. Will’s dad is dead. I’m not scared anymore. I’m staying, and so is Will. And affection for who?”

Thanks for asking. What did Aedan mean?

“Megan Bartlow of Virginia, born July 7, parents Jeannie and Brandon, I do not expect you to understand this, but when Abigail Doran opened the door for all of the spiritual world to enter without fear of being hunted, she basically started the apocalypse right here on Longboat. You have no family. You have no vacation home, no home. Everything you once knew burns. Look around you. Do you not see this for yourself?”