Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (42 page)

Afterwards, Thunder comes to our side and says we need to talk. He sounds grim and my stomach turns over. I see it in the faces of Jamie and Sam as well. Our first thought is the same: Olivia.

In the time it takes for him to alleviate our unspoken fear, I die several hundred quiet deaths. “This is not about Olivia. There is no word there.” I breathe easier, even though it’s obvious something bad has happened.

Oden shows us to a hidden grove, where we can talk in privacy, and then he leaves us.

Staring at the four of us, Thunder clears his throat. “You may all have been aware of a breach in our outpost system? Yes?” We all nod. “Well; it’s been verified. An entire team has been taken down.”

“Killed?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yes.” With infinite sadness, Thunder explains how Orchard’s Spinney, that amazing subterranean home of our huge snake friends, was attacked, laid to waste, fully destroyed.

“The Dells?”

Thunder’s sorrow weeps from every tremble of his muscular frame and I know the answer before he says anything. “No one survived.”

I swear and turn, slamming my fist into the closest tree trunk, splitting the skin across my knuckles, leaving a red stain against the pale bark. I don’t even feel the pain. I raise my fist again and again, until I’m grabbed from behind and pulled back. I don’t want to be restrained. I heave myself forward while swinging an elbow; I hit into something solid and am rewarded with a stream of imaginative cussing from Sam. I ignore it.

“Why?” I demand. “Why would they do that? Olivia’s already made it in. They can’t stop her now. What good does it do them to hurt people like the Dells? What the heck is the whole flippin’ point?” I’m mad, but it’s less about how it rips me apart and more about the fact that I know how Olivia will feel when she finds out. My own grief I can handle but thinking of her pain is almost too much. I slump to the ground and the guys sit silently by my side. No words are needed. There’s nothing to say anyway.

Thunder emits a growly huff of air. “I am sorry, Child. I know they meant something to you. They were, indeed, an amazing group. They were able to destroy almost all of their attackers before they succumbed. We have caught up to and dispatched the rest. The leaders were from the Dells’ own clan; they brought in Sliders. Solely because they could. Because they’re losing hope about their side winning. Apparently, a major portion of the People of the Flame has decided to turn against the Sliders. That helps.” He stares pointedly in my direction; I can sense his look but I don’t lift my head. Still feeling just a little broken here.

Thunder continues. “Little skirmishes are breaking out all over. We have entered a very unstable time. The crisis has almost reached its apex. Our troops are already meeting at what is now being called Rift Point. The main event has already begun. I am sending Storm home. He is too young for this and needs to step away. Callie and the others will be there for him.”

I jump to my feet, eyes burning, waiting to hear what he thinks he’s planning for me. I catch his snort but, as the three others stand up from their seated positions, Thunder turns first to Maddix.

“Maddix. Your aunt and uncle want you to stay here with them, learn to use your left hand, work at relearning how to use your right. Help with the injured that will soon be arriving.”

Maddix nods in agreement; it is the best for now, until he becomes used to his changed body. He’ll be quick about it; today, he’s not even wearing a bandage. His skin looks pink and shiny.

“Samuel and James. Ethan. I would prefer you to return home as well—” He is interrupted by our various splutters. “—but I understand if you feel there is unfinished business here. And I leave it up to you to decide.”

The three of us look at each other. “I’m staying,” I declare. “Put me at Rift Point, or wherever you see fit, but I’m staying.”

“I’m with Ethan,” Sam states resolutely. “Jamie, you should head home, wait this out where it’s safer and we’ll meet up soon.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, “No way, Sam. I’m staying here where they’ll need me. People are gonna get hurt. I’m gonna be here for them.”

Rumbling in his chest, Thunder agrees with our choices, modifying it to keep us off to the sides of the frontline, but then he swings his head towards me.

“Come, Child. Where there is sorrow, you will also find hope. I have something to show you. If the others will excuse us?”

I’ve never heard him do so much mouth-talking in horse form. Usually he uses that mind-speak stuff. He’s probably trying to block my thoughts. And I realize I keep focusing on inane details. I walk mutely at his side, scuffing my feet through the leaves and dirt.

He leads me to a jumbled pile of vegetation and small boulders lying within a beam of golden, early morning sunlight. I walk closer and see that placed within the protective nest are at least a dozen large oblong rocks. No. Not rocks. Cream-colored reptilian eggs. Snake eggs.

I suck in a breath. “Marrah’s?”

“Yes.” Thunder’s eyes flicker with memory. “She had swallowed them to keep them safe. When we found her ….” Thunder clears his throat. “She was curled in the empty nest. We had to extract them. We’d known they were expecting ….” His voice trails off and he slips into mind-speak.
Now, they will be hatched within these woods with caretakers, who will not only provide love and attention, but will teach them of their heritage. The Fieldings will one day offer a new home for the Dell’s people. And life will continue on.

I reach down and place my hand against each shell in turn before twisting to face the massive horse. “Thank you,” I say simply. It doesn’t bring back any of the slaughtered clan, but it does help to think there’s still a future. Still hope.

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Seeker and the Rift

(OLIVIA)

I
FEEL THE IMPACT
as I slam against Creep, and my body bursts apart. At first I am aware of him falling through as well, can sense his bulk breaking into red-hot splinters. When we hit the Grey, we congeal into solid forms floating aimlessly in the nothingness. From the corner of my eye, I can tell that Creep is continuing to morph, getting bulkier and more hairy. Becoming a massive atrocity of an animal. I’m too scared to look and my body is getting tugged deeper still. My brain freezes up and I can no longer think, feel, comprehend. So, I let myself go.

When I wake up, my watch reads just after 4:30. It’s awfully dark already. I pull out my ear buds and Jamie’s wondering how much longer we have. I want to know the same thing, but I’m glad I wasn’t the first one to ask, being the oldest and all.

“Sweets,” Mom says “we’ve got to go slow. We’re in a white-out and Dad’s doing what he can. We just have to sit tight till we make it over the pass. After that, we’ll be able to make our turn-off.”

Great. Because then come the switchbacks, the lack of any shoulder, and the sheer cliff drop down the right-hand side. Joy. If I didn’t love Gunther so much, I’d seriously consider demanding to be left here, on the side of the road, snowstorm or not.

“This is taking forever,” groans Jamie, shifting in his seat. “I can’t even look out my window ’cause I can’t see anything.”

It is almost impossible to see anything, with the snow doing the whole “warp speed ahead” thing in our headlights. In the low beams, the trees look like a forest from Narnia. It’s called a white-out for a reason. I’m pretty sure we should not be attempting to drive through it, but there’s nowhere to pull over. Who knows if someone’s behind us? Dad’s turned off the radio and I can tell he’s leaning forward, as if being five inches closer to the windshield is going to help him see better.

And something’s niggling at my brain. Something’s not quite right. I look around at my family, feeling an oddly powerful swell of love for them. Must be the time of year, I shrug. All that peace and love and goodwill that’s coming up. I crane my neck around to look out the rear window. Distantly, I hear Mom ask, “What about a story?” I smile a little at the words, but my stomach’s starting to feel sick and goose bumps are rising on my arms.

Are those headlights out there? It’s hard to tell and I squint, absently tugging at my necklace.

Wait a minute.

Necklace?

I lift the pendant and try to get a look at it. I don’t wear a necklace.

Do I?

My brain feels like it’s fracturing, coming apart along all the little seams of tissue valleys and hills, overlapping with images of someone who is me but not. Images of my family in places I’ve never been. Coming together, repositioned. A new reality.

I hear my mom’s voice, sounding like she’s inside a tunnel. “Once upon a time there were three amazing children named Olivia, Samuel, and James. They all lived together at the tip-top of a beautiful mountain with their magical horse named Thunder, who loved them dearly and took care of them.”

Frack.

Good Lord. What is wrong with me?

And then it hits me fully. The rift.

Aw, shoist, the rift.

Think, Olivia. The only way to seal it is with the essence of humanity, right? Because only a human can do it. What is the essence? The very inner particles of what I am? What makes me human?

My brain screams. Samuel shoots me a strange look.

“Are you okay?” His lips move but I’m not hearing him. My brain is firing too many thoughts my way.

Faith. Hope. Compassion. Forgiveness. Honor. Sorrow. Love. Peace. It swirls around me, within me, from me.

I chance another glance out the rear window and see a dark shape approaching, possibly a car, but in my mind I can see a large hairy animal. Was I the one who let it through?

I gulp for air. There’s time. I know what my father is. I can warn him to stop. Save him and my mother. Change our future. Keep my family intact.

Or.

I can let all of us be swallowed right now. Do nothing. Let it all end. Keep my family together that way. Let someone else deal with everything.

Or.
Or
.

What are my choices, really?

What would any changes actually mean? If my parents live, would I still be the Seeker? Would someone else be able to seal the rift in time? Everything has sprung from this impending moment. Which path do I take? What would I be sacrificing? The world? My parents? My brothers? Myself?

No.

My soul.

It is my soul that must be offered; my humanity.

I make my choice; I shred my soul to save the world.

And let my parents die.

Thinking of my brothers, a split second before impact, I shriek one word. “THUNDER!”

Our car gets hit from behind, hydroplanes across the road, and spins until it slams into a wall of rock. Where it crumples like a soda can.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: At Rift Point

(SAMUEL)

E
THAN AND I
are brought to a camp on unfamiliar ground. Watching Ethan’s face, I can tell it means something to him, though. He swallows hard and points out a crested hill.

“That’s where Olivia disappeared; the creep guy we told you about was standing up there and she tackled him.” His voice holds a trace of pride and he grins crookedly. “Typical Olivia.”

Pretty much. And now here we are on a clear blue day, joining a battle that’s been waged for a day and a half already. The air is feverishly charged and filled with the intense noises of survival. There is fighting all throughout the Shadows, but it is concentrated here, at the site of the rift. Shapes and forms flicker in and out of view, running between trees, hiding in branches, behind boulders. Ethan and I both recognize some of the fairies darting around, and I point out several People of the Wind and Hills, whom I remember.

A strong tempest kicks up out of nowhere, blasting some sort of creature into the air and impaling him on a broken tree branch. Meanwhile, other creatures seem frozen in spot as the air gets sucked from their lungs. They are left briefly as shrunken-in husks before turning to black vapor. The People of the Wind must be combining their skills with those of the Lake because explosions of glittering sparkles whirl into mini tornadoes, wreaking havoc on anything in their path. Not as many bodies litter the ground as I would have expected but, since the Sliders poof away when they’re killed, I guess it makes sense. All the bodies left are either Dwellers, good or bad—or Benders like us. That thought shakes me up.