Between (20 page)

Keiran grabs my hand and we’re running and sliding down the rocky dirt path we just climbed. The screams stop and a strange, sickly sweet scent invades the air—familiar, but wrong. It grows stronger the closer we get to the lake, assaulting my nostrils and stinging my eyes. I open my mouth to inhale and the odor sticks to my tongue, making me gag.

Keiran freezes at the bottom of the path. He gasps, and his fingers clench around mine.

Mom took me and Sam fishing exactly one time, back when we were seven. It’d been a long day and we hadn’t caught a thing, so when Sam and I spotted a little island in the middle of a cove we passed, we begged Mom to take us there to swim. We’d hopped out of the boat as soon as we were close enough and splashed through the water to the rocky shore. The torture of an afternoon spent still and quiet with a fishing pole in hand was quickly remedied by a game of pirates staking claim to the island. We’d wandered to the far side and stumbled upon a shallow pool of lake water filled with dead fish, baking under the sun’s heat.

Dead fish. That’s the smell. Familiar, but completely wrong here.

My sketchbook falls to the ground, and my brain processes the scene in pieces.

The inky surface of the lake.

Pale, motionless bodies.

A mess of human arms crossed and piled on top of each other at the water’s edge, fingers digging into the shore, unmoving.

Silver glints on top of the water. Mermaid tails. Hundreds, unattached to anything.

The adult centaurs I’d noticed earlier lie on the ground near the shore, unmoving.

In my peripheral vision, I see creatures gradually moving in, drawn by the screams. Like us, they freeze as they struggle to make sense of what’s happened. The fairies are the only ones who don’t keep their distance. They’ve positioned themselves at various points around the lake, and several of them drift in a grid inches above its surface, back and forth, their faces broken but focused on the water. Every now and then one of them bends closer, studying the remains but never touching anything. Clara hovers above them all, hands on her head, staring in disbelief.

I take shallow breaths to keep the rancid air from filling my lungs. It hasn’t been more than fifteen minutes since Keiran and I sat on the shore with our legs in the water. How is the smell of death so strong already?

“Stay here,” Keiran says, and he’s gone before I can reply. He drops my hand and runs closer, darting around the dead centaurs and the other creatures gathered at various spots on the lake’s perimeter. Ellaurians from all directions creep closer, and I know the hopeless horror on their faces reflects my own.

I stare at the ground, trying to escape what’s in front of me. A tiny hoof catches my eye, tucked beneath a rock formation on the shore. I run toward it and drop to my hands and knees. A young centaur with blond curls stares back at me, his blue eyes wide. I reach for him, dipping my hand into the shadows.

Hands circle my rib cage and yank me backward. A slender man with arms that drag the ground peers down at me. “Are you out of your mind? That’s necrolate!”

I blink at him. Necrolate?

He nods toward the lake. It’s black and lifeless, and this close I can see the tinge of yellow floating on its surface. The yellow on the water lends its nearly neon glow to everything it touches, from the merfolk to the centaur near my feet.

The man crouches beside me and peers beneath the rock. He turns his head immediately, his face twisted with pain. “He’s gone, honey. Necrolate doesn’t leave survivors. They were all dead as soon as it hit the water.”

My gaze wanders to the severed arms of the mermaids. They were trying to get out. I close my eyes, wishing I could unsee the hands reaching for help that could never have made it in time. My stomach turns. I’d heard the screams. The sound of their collective terror is one that will stick with me, replaying in my mind when I wake up at night.

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how alone I am. I back away from the lake and its horrors, filled with an anticipation I can’t quite put my finger on. Darkness creeps along the edges of my vision, vanishing when I turn my head to look closer. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched, like arms I can’t see are waiting for the perfect moment to steal me away. I’m stuck at the height of my fight-or-flight response, completely tense, my shoulders growing heavier and heavier. Ice flows down my back. My eyes are wide, staring in all directions.

Keiran walks back to me, picking up my sketchbook along the way. I relax a bit when he reaches me, and we stand and stare in silence. There are no words for this. What kind of creature could’ve done this and disappeared so quickly? Where is it now?

I’d been here, right here, minutes before this happened.

Those arms, those screams, they could’ve been mine.

“Charlotte!” Alexander’s voice thunders through my daze, and I jump. The founder stands a few feet away. His yellow-green eyes shift from a wide surprise to a narrow angry. Seth stands beyond him, watching me with a stricken look on his face.

My eyes land on his face, and though the mixture of fury and relief is plain in his thinly set lips and creased brow, seeing him makes everything a little more bearable.

Seth’s here. I’m safe.

I finally allow myself to crumble. Seth’s in front of me in a blink, pulling me close as a sob escapes my chest.

“You,” Seth growls over my head. I don’t have to look to know who he’s talking to.

“No, Seth.” I want to tell him it’s not Keiran’s fault. I knew what Seth wanted me to do, and I did the opposite. That’s on me, not Keiran, but I’m too drained for words. I rest my forehead against his chest and breathe in his shirt.

“Calm down. She’s okay,” Keiran responds. His voice is low and lifeless.

“You better thank every god you pray to that she’s okay.” Seth rips my sketchbook from Keiran’s hands.

Alexander strides over and barks at the two of them. “Enough.”

Keiran’s nostrils flare, and he lifts his head toward Alexander. “One of the gorgons said they saw a shadow hanging over the lake and he dissipated when they spotted him.”

“A bogman,” Alexander says, gazing across the water. His eyes settle on the dead merfolk for a moment before he looks at Seth. “Get her out of here. These creatures are beyond your healing.”

Seth cradles my head against his shoulder, and we’re gone.

In my room, Seth drops my sketchbook on the table and holds me until the sobs slow to sniffles. For a moment, I think he might tell me everything is okay. It’s not like he needs to point out how lucky I am. I don’t need the lecture or the “I told you so.”

Then he turns his back to me and puts some space between us, and I know he’s going to make his point. I lean against the table and brace myself for what’s coming.

“I was standing in the middle of Central Hall when we heard the explosion. I dropped everything, literally dropped it right there in the middle of the floor, and came here.” He turns around. His eyes are wide and staring, his face pale. He looks so young right now, so unabashedly afraid. “Do you have any idea what it was like to show up and find this room empty? Then I heard the screams.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Seth closes his eyes, and I wonder if he’s hearing them now, like I am. High-pitched cries of anguish. I release a shaky breath.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” he asks, anger punctuating every word. “Why can’t you just be where I tell you to be?”

I shake my head. My nostrils burn as my eyes fill with tears again. None of the reasons I come up with will mean anything in the face of what happened at the lake. I never should’ve left. “I thought you didn’t want me to go because of Keiran. I thought—”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, Charlie!” He cuts me off and slams his hand down on the island in the kitchen. “I’m not your jealous boyfriend! It’s my job to know all the different things that could harm you and anticipate threats before they happen. This isn’t about keeping you away from some guy, it’s about keeping you alive!”

I rub my forehead. He’s said it a million times—his job is to keep me safe—but until now I’ve only thought about what those words meant for me, not him. His life is built around mine. The way he zeroes in on the things that could hurt me is as natural to him as the way I look at a scene and see all of its lines. It’s who he is.

Shaped by the Fellowship, just like me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. For so many things. For today. For last night. For the years he’s dedicated to me without question.

Seth’s shoulders fall. “I know. I just need you to understand.” He walks to me and takes my face in his hands, spreading his fingers through my hair. “Nothing can happen to you. Not because of what you are or what it means or any of that, but because nothing can happen to
you.”

I hear what he doesn’t say. His protection is more about
who
I am than what I am, more about his feelings than his job.

I’m more than my bloodline.

My heart flutters. He swipes his thumbs beneath my eyes and across my cheeks, wiping tears away. I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy the feel of his fingers on my skin. I’m acutely aware of every spot he touches.

When I open my eyes, he’s looking at my lips. His eyes are a shade darker than normal, and his cheeks are flushed. His gaze flickers upward, meeting mine, and he blinks a few times. His grip on me loosens, and he says, “Do you understand?”

I nod, unable to speak. Again, I’m overcome with the desire for him to kiss me, but I try not to focus on it. I don’t want him to move away again.

He releases a breath and his hands fall from me completely. I bite my lip, stifling my disappointment.

“Okay.” He pulls two chairs out from the table. “Tell me what happened. I want to know every single thing you saw.”

I slump into the seat, rest my forehead on my fingers, and stare at the tabletop while I tell him everything, starting with Keiran showing up at my door and ending with Seth’s arms around me by the lake. I have to stop a couple times, picturing the arms of the dead merfolk and the blond curls of the young centaur. Through it all, Seth says nothing. When I raise my head, he’s lost in thought.

“Why did it smell like that?” I ask. The stench is still clinging to my clothes, and I tug at the neck of my shirt.

“The necrolate. It’s basically death in liquid form. Everything submerged in the water decomposed almost immediately. Most creatures die on impact. Historically, jeravons have had some immunity to it, although I hope to never find out if that’s still true.”

The back of my throat aches. There was no immunity among today’s victims. Death was quick, that’s for sure, but it didn’t seem instantaneous. “It looked like the merfolk had a few seconds to react,” I tell him.

He nods, tracing invisible lines on the tabletop with his finger. “I saw that, too. They knew what was happening.”

It’s too horrible to think about, but I can’t seem to think about anything else. Their last few seconds must have been filled with mindless terror, climbing over each other to get out of the water, screaming in fear and agony.

“Where did the necrolate come from?” I ask. “How did this happen?”

“If the gorgons are right, and I imagine they are, it was a bogman.” He raises his eyes from the table. “You know him as the Boogeyman. Where you and I have blood in our veins, bogmen have necrolate. They expel the liquid from their bodies, and it kills nearly everything it touches.”

His mention of the Boogeyman takes me right back to the young girl and the hodag. “The Boogeyman is real?”

Seth leans forward, rubbing his neck with his hands. “Tall, slender death spirits without faces. They live in shadows, and as such, they can enter and exit places very quickly. Like the harpies, the bogmen were banished when the Fellowship was created. They shouldn’t be able to pass into the mystical realm.”

“Why would they do this? Are they connected to Whalen?” I have to know. Is this about me? Is there any chance it isn’t?

Seth shifts in his seat. “Possibly. Whalen has worked with bogmen in the past.”

His name slithers over my skin, and my heart sinks. The deaths pile on top of me, pressing me lower and lower. As much as I’d hoped there was no connection, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. I add the incident at the lake to the list of trauma caused by my mere existence. “But why? What does attacking the lake and killing the merfolk have to do with me?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Seth presses his fingertips to the table, one after the other, thinking. “He may be sending a message.”

It worked. The things I saw and heard today will stick with me for as many lifetimes as I get. “I was so scared,” I whisper.

The last of Seth’s stony expression fades away, and he rests his hand in front of me. “Trust me, I know. I felt every bit of your fear, standing by the shore today.”

Dealing with my emotions on top of his must be exhausting. I couldn’t have handled any more grief or horror than I felt on my own today. I place my hand over his, and he rubs his thumb across my fingers. I can’t decide if it’s more intrusive that he knows my emotions, or that I put them on him.