Authors: Shea Berkley
“Pure myth, a legend to keep children in their beds.” Though he’s in pain, he manages an indulgent smile. “Orntho and his men can claim the title of Nightmare Men all they want, but they are just like everyone else. You already proved that.”
“Look outside. The legend is real. All the ones I killed are alive again, and they’re tearing up the city and doing a damn good job of it.”
“I suppose myths are based on some form of truth…”
He’s so calm it’s irritating. “This one obviously is,” I snap. “Can you find the one they call Orntho?”
He presses his lips together. It’s then I look around. Everyone appears nervous, on edge in a way only someone who’s frightened can look. I haven’t just interrupted a council meeting. I’ve interrupted his meeting with Orntho. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
The commander of the Nightmare Men steps from the shadows, bigger than all the rest, scarier. As he walks, his skin and bones ripple and click against each other in a grotesque dance. Still, it’s hard to look away.
He stops in front of my father, only a few steps from me, but I’m as important as a bug in his eyes. “A myth?” his harsh voice rips from his throat as he addresses my father. “I am more real to the humans than your kind ever was.”
My father’s smile stiffens. “Yet always the servant, never the master. Out of everyone, why serve the Rodarians?”
He looks down and twirls the ring on his finger, the once-black stone shining bright white against a patch of his dark, leathery skin. He looks up, the bones in his face clicking with irritation. “I serve only myself.”
“Displace us and you think the Rodarians will give you a sliver of land?”
“I have their word they will, though I would take the gift from you in exchange for getting rid of them.”
“You are not the first to want Teag and all that comes with her. We
firsts
guard the way between the realms where your kind would abuse it.”
A raspy laugh shakes the tendons along the exposed bones in his neck. “Tell me true. Are we really that different? You hate humans. I hate humans. And we both want what they have.”
At my father’s silence, Orntho shrugs. “Very well, I hoped we could come to an agreement, but if you won’t even play along, I’ll destroy you all…starting with you.”
On hearing his threat, several of us draw our weapons. He shifts, finding a sliver of shadow, and disappears. The room goes silent. We all search for Orntho. Within the shadows beside the throne, I see a hand appear and the glint of a dagger. The shape of his body curls from the darkness, but not all the way. In that split second I strike, severing his hand from his arm. Screaming, his body returns to the shadows. Even his severed hand disappears, leaving the dagger and ring on the floor. I scoop it up and watch the bright-white stone slowly fade to black.
My father sighs with relief and calls for the hall to be lit until every shadow is erased from the corners. “Do you know what you did?”
“Saved your life for the second time?”
He nods and collapses back into the chair, so weak he can barely sit up straight. “That…
and
you sentenced them to remain in the darkness forever. They cannot take solid form without that ring.”
“Sir,” one of my dad’s men says, “shall we send for Hadrain’s daughter?”
He shakes his head, his face closed of all emotion. “A few stitches will see me well.”
If he wants to act tough, that’s his business. I’m still not convinced we’re rid of Orntho and his threat. “Where are the Nightmare Men now?”
He looks around. “No shadows, no Nightmare Men. Orntho is gone, and good riddance.”
He holds out his hand for the ring, and I reluctantly give it to him.
“What about the Rodarians?” I ask.
“They are thinning, though we know not why.” He waves his hand, and a group of men surrounds him to tend to his wounds; I’m pushed back, barely a thought for me. My dad looks over their heads. “We have much to discuss.” He hisses as a stitch is placed in his side.
We’re not discussing anything right now. The Nightmare Men may be gone, but we still have more trouble than we need. The Rodarians are fading in ranks, and I have a feeling Kera has found a way to stop them. It has to be her.
I turn and leave, ignoring my father’s calls to come back.
Severed Hearts
I look out over the scarred battlefield, at the wounded and dead. A fine layer of dust covers everything, and I spy a scattering of Rodarians falling back. The lone horse their commander once rode skitters at my approach and trots away. It’s then I see someone coming out of the forest. I’d know that walk, that turn of her head, anywhere.
“Kera.” My yell echoes across the field. She turns toward me and begins to run. The closer she gets, the more details I see. Her shirt is ripped near her shoulder and her face is covered in dirt. Tears streak down her cheeks, and when she vaults into my arms, she presses so close, I feel my chest ache.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” It’s all I can say. She’s shivering and crying, and I sweep my arms under her knees and carry her to a fallen log. Sitting, I cradle her closely, rocking her back and forth. The flames from the iron balls have dimmed, leaving a soft glow. Kera’s hair is a mess. I slowly unbraid it and gently run my fingers through the thick mass. She lays her head on my shoulder and soon her sobs ease.
“You left me.” I’m not exactly mad, I’m confused.
“I had to.” Her voice hitches thick with tears.
I pull away and look into her sad eyes. “Why?”
“I couldn’t kill you, not again and again.”
An image of her killing a
first
stirs my memories, followed by the horrifying image of her being killed. My heart had stopped for a split second seeing her die. I knew deep down it wasn’t her, that it had been a Rodarian impersonating her. I had tried to wipe that death from my mind, but I couldn’t. After that, I didn’t see her again, not her or anyone pretending to be her.
I press my lips to her forehead and feel her sag against me. “Where’d you go?”
“I had to know where they were coming from so I followed their numbers. Granel is free of the Unknown. He found a way to duplicate the Rodarians with the help of the Dark Souls.”
“You went up against him
and
the Dark Souls alone?”
“I had no choice. Besides, I knew I could stop them. It was easy.”
“Easy?” I touch the rip in her shirt and see the wound beneath.
She tugs the fabric up to cover her broken skin. “Nothing is without risk.”
Her words are softly spoken, yet they hold a purpose and strength that doesn’t comfort me. “Don’t risk yourself again, okay?”
She gently touches the half-dozen wounds along my body and looks deeply into my eyes. “Can you promise me the same?”
“You know what I mean. You used the dark magic again. It’ll destroy you. Like it did Navar. Like it almost did my dad.”
She cups my face, her eyes glittering and her words clipped and desperate. “I am different. I have goodness where they had only selfish desires. You have said so a million times…so has my father and a half-dozen other people. I only use it when I have no other choice.”
She licks her lips and softens her voice. “Trust me. I know what I am doing.”
She honestly thinks she does. It’s a dangerous gamble, and one she’ll never admit she’s losing. We sit there staring at each other, knowing neither of us can promise the other to play it safe. We are truly two of a kind. Stubborn, strong, and more powerful than either of us should be.
Footsteps sound and we look up. It’s Wyatt, and he looks like hell. No, like he’s been dragged through hell, fought the devil, and then run out before the demons could catch him. He’s covered in blood and dirt and his clothes are ragged and he looks a million years old.
“It’s done.” He takes his sword and tosses it to the ground in a fit of disgust. “I know this is my profession. I’ve been in the army for a while, been halfway around the world fighting other people’s battles, but this,” he says, sweeping his arm out and dropping it wearily to his side, “I thought it was bad before, but this hacking another guy to death…”
We’re all covered in blood and the gore of war. It’s not pleasant. Nothing he’d been taught could’ve prepared him for the reality of Teag and all it holds.
“You need to sit down,” I say.
He nods, but before he can drop to the ground, Neve rushes up to him. She’s too pale, too tense. Her clothes are ripped and blood-spattered. She grabs his arm and tugs on him to follow her. Her voice holds the hard edge of glass that’s about to break. “We must leave. Now.”
He lets her pull him a few feet away before he stops and cups her cheek. “Sweetheart, settle down. It’s over.”
“It’s not over.” She tugs on him harder. “Please. We must leave.”
A knot of people appears out of the darkness. Neve’s sisters. Clustered together, dressed for war, they’re an impressive sight. They don’t look happy. “Neve,” one of them calls.
The girl whips around and runs to them, her face a mask of hurt, her voice pleading, “No. Don’t.”
I feel sorry for her, knowing her family doesn’t approve of her love for Wyatt. Being forced to choose between your family and someone you love is harsh. Wyatt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing himself to defend their decision to be together.
The sisters grab Neve and march her toward Wyatt. I wonder if I should go stand beside him, show them he has my support, but he hasn’t asked me to get involved, so I stay put, feeling guilty just sitting there watching the drama unfold.
They barely pause when they reach him. Neve gasps and doubles over. Her cries are deep and soul-wrenching. One of her sisters yanks her forward. I hear Wyatt grunt, but I can’t see him. An alarm shoots down my spine. I push Kera off and stand. “Wyatt?”
The sisters move off, dragging a crying Neve with them. Wyatt just stands there, his back to us, stunned as he watches her leave.
Kera touches my arm. We’re both unsure what to do. How do you comfort a guy who’s tried so hard never to need it?
“Dude,” I say. There is a way of saying that one word that says everything to a guy. There’s empathy and frustration and anger all rolled into that one word.
He drops to his knees and bends over. He can’t catch his breath. I know the feeling. Hell, I was in that exact position when Kera was taken from me.
“Wyatt, we can go after her,” I try. “Talk to them…”
Even to my own ears that sounds lame, but I don’t know what else to say.
Kera’s fingers tighten on my arm and the next moment, Wyatt is on the ground. She drops her weapons and races to his side. “He’s hurt.”
I go to him and see red seeping through his shirt. I yank his dirty clothing up and find six clean knife wounds, deep and deadly, to his gut. My gaze snaps to Kera’s. “Can you help him?”
His hand slaps on mine. Blood bubbles to his lips. “Protect her.”
“We will,” Kera says as she feverishly tries to stop the bleeding. Her eyelashes prickle with tears when she looks up at me. “I can’t stop the bleeding. I don’t know what they did, but nothing is working.”
“Keep trying.”
“I am!” she snaps.
“Don’t die, dude.” My hand grips his, tightens around it as if I can force him to stay if I just hold on tight enough. “I can’t lose you.”
He licks his dry lips. “She’s scared.”
“We’ll help her,” Kera says. Her hands glow over his torso and her tears mix with his blood. “I promise.”
He slips his hand into her hair and pulls her head to his until their foreheads touch. “It’s okay.”
His hand slowly slides from her hair and his fingers loosen on my arm. His chest rises once. Twice. And then it stops. I can feel his soul separate from his body and I grip tighter. “No. Don’t. Don’t.”
Anger like I’ve never felt rushes to the surface. With the magic I inherited, I could catch them and punish them for Wyatt’s death. Everyone would see how powerful I am and fear me. My head falls back and my teeth press together so hard my jaw aches.
I just stood there and let them kill Wyatt. Why didn’t I see it coming? Why?
I want to let go, but the power I’d radiate would be indiscriminate. The death toll horrific.
Heat builds in my core. I glare into the trees where the sisters disappeared, and I envision them, one by one, burning into a cloud of hot ash.
“Dylan.” Kera’s voice sounds far away. She grabs my shoulders and shakes me, calling my name over and over. “Don’t lose control. Not here. You’ll kill everything. Everyone.”
I fight the evil that’s rising in me and imagine the innocent lives that would be lost. I’m sick of killing. I’m sick of this place that only knows violence and hate. And it sickens me more to know I’ve been infected by the darkness I inherited from Navar when he died. I’ve never felt such hate, and I don’t like it.
Kera’s soft lips find mine. Again and again, small quick kisses land on my mouth. They mingle with her salty tears and her demands that I pull myself together. I grab her and hold on, press her close, feel every soft inch of her. She wraps her arms around me and takes on my pain. My sorrow. My guilt.
No matter how powerful the dark magic makes me feel, I rake it deep within me and lock it away. I post guards to that dark place and tell them never to leave.
I hold Kera tighter. She’s the reason for living. Not the dark magic that’s been chipping away at my soul.
“We have to follow them,” I say against her neck even as I feel her silky hair cool the heat of my cheeks. “Hold them accountable for what they did.”
“We will, but not now. We can’t leave Wyatt out here. We need to take him back.”
My next thought nearly brings me to my knees. “Reece. What am I going to tell Reece?” My gut twists. I feel sick.
Kera’s arms are wrapped so tightly around me, she won’t let me fall. I should be alarmed that I’m the one falling apart and not her, it’s not at all manly of me, but I’m not used to this constant state of death. Leo’s grandpa died. Then Jason. Now Wyatt. I don’t lose people well because I’ve never had anyone close to lose. It’s a new phenomenon, one I’d gladly give up.
I push away, feeling toxic. Mom saw how dangerous I was and kept her distance. Maybe she was right.
“Don’t you dare push me away.” A flash of anger, ignited by her own pain, enters her eyes. “I won’t allow you to give up. We’re in this together.”
“But people I know keep dying.”
“Everyone dies.”
That’s exactly what Wyatt said. Everyone dies. I’m just not willing for it to be someone I know. Someone I love. Selfish? Yes. Immature and unreasonable? Absolutely. But there it is. I don’t want to compromise. And I hate being forced to do it.
I look down at Wyatt. He deserved so much more. I stoop and pick him up, laying him over my shoulder fireman-style. He’s not light. I flex my powers, remembering the day he outran me. He had heart and skills few had. With Kera at my side, I carry him back to the Ruined City. The blood from his wounds drips down my back, making him paler by the second. I try not to think about it. I try to remember him as he was. Strong. Confident. Full of life.
When we enter the Ruined City, we see the destruction caused by the Nightmare Men. Wyatt isn’t the only one lost. I try to remember that. Today has been a bad day for far too many people.
I see Reece and Signe along with Leo and Lucinda, helping the wounded, doing what they can for them and their families. I stop, suddenly unable to move. Kera touches my arm. I look down at her and feel her sadness roll into me. The scent of burned molasses tickles my nose, and it’s that scent that has Signe turn around. She sees us and tears up, a smile lighting her face. She looks from Kera to me and then the body I’m carrying. Her smile slowly vanishes and she slants a heavy glance at Reece.
Leo and Lucinda grow still. Leo grabs her hand and pulls her forward, but stops, as though there’s a force field that won’t let him get any closer.
Halim appears with bandages. He sets them down and takes a halting step forward. His gaze rockets from me to Reece and then back again. “Wyatt?”
Reece twists around at the mention of his brother’s name. The look he gives me changes as his eyes land on Wyatt. He rushes over. “How bad is it?”
My throat seizes up. Nothing escapes, not even the little bit of air still in my lungs.
“How bad?” he demands as he moves around to my back and gently tilts Wyatt’s face up—Wyatt’s deathly pale face. “Shit!”
He grabs his brother off my shoulder, sees the blood soaking my back, and his face darkens with panic. “No.” He stretches his brother out on the ground, kneeling close, hovering over him. “Wyatt!”
“I’m sorry, Reece.”
He points a shaking finger at me. “Don’t say it.” Turning back to his brother, he finds the wounds and his gaze pops to mine, then to Kera. “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t just stand there. Heal him.”
“I can’t.” She looks to Signe, at her sorrow, and her face crumples with grief. “I don’t know why.”
He rises and grabs Kera’s shoulders. “Heal him!” He shakes her hard, his fingers digging into her muscles.
Signe puts her hand on his arm, but he shrugs her off. The pain of his loss transforms his features into a face of pure agony. He looks deeply into Kera’s eyes. His voice cracks. “Why didn’t you heal him?” It grows louder, harsher, spitting out the pain he feels onto her. “Did you even try?”
The dark circles under Kera’s eyes grow pronounced as the last hint of color drains from her face. She stands quiet and lost and looks away, blaming herself like I blame myself.
I push him off her, seeing how his words are tearing her up. “That’s enough.”
“Who did it?”
“Does it really matter?” Lucinda asks, her usual bored tone subdued.
“Who?” he demands.
I know him. He won’t let it rest until he knows, so I tell him. “The Seven Sisters.”
“Not Neve,” Kera says in a soft voice. “She tried to stop them.”
“But you didn’t,” Reece snarls at Kera.
I know how he feels. He needs to blame someone for his loss. I get it, but I won’t let him hurt Kera anymore. I step between them and face Reece. “If you blame her, you have to blame me. I was there. I saw them do it. We didn’t know what they were going to do. We never suspected.”
“I did.” Leo’s deep voice grabs all our attention. He still stands with Lucinda, holding her hand until his knuckles pale and her fingers pinken, but she doesn’t complain. “The sisters weren’t happy, and I knew it.”