Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (40 page)

A
foreign, searing nodule that pulsed in my guts.
What
is this... what am I...?

Opening
my eyes, the world felt far more dulled than I thought it had once
been.
Once
been, yes. That's right.

Sitting
up with a gasp, my voice hoarse, I grabbed at my abdomen. Hadn't I
been hurt, hadn't there been so much pain?

Didn't
I die?

“
You're
probably a little disoriented.”

Wrenching
around, I spotted the face that matched that voice. Valenforth stood
on the other side of the small room.

It
was dark, the only light coming from an open doorway. Shifting, I
heard the squeak of springs. I was on an unfamiliar bed. A firm
object bumped my elbow, the canvas telling me it was my backpack.

“
What
happened?” I whispered, touching my throat. It still felt full
of tiny cuts, like I'd been screaming for hours.

In
the dim light, his dark eyes looked like empty sockets. “Gale
Everette, you were murdered.”

Closing
my eyes, I ran my hands carefully over my face, my hair. I felt
whole, and when I tugged at my red strands, I experienced a burst of
pain.

His
news didn't surprise me. Behind a wall that deafened everything, I
felt little in the way of reaction. “Did I really? Then how am
I here?”

He
approached me carefully. I could sense it, his uncertainty. “I
brought you back.”

Looking
at my hands, I saw sand under my nails. “How?”

Valenforth
exhaled softly, his shadow falling over me. “I'm the Corpse
King, remember?”

My
thoughts were sluggish, but at his words, I saw the distant memory
of a bird. A bird I'd crushed under my heel.
Yes,
that happened, of course.
“I
do remember. So you actually brought me back to life.”

My
brain felt swollen, stuffed with cotton. Holding my temples, I
squinted, desperate. “Why can't I remember how I died? Why is
that gone?”

I
should... remember something like that.

“
Your
memory will be choppy as a result of coming back to life. I had to
put some of my energy into you to make it happen, it's no doubt
messing with things a bit.”

“
A
bit,” I said. “I feel... numb. Fine. I can't remember,
but I wouldn't doubt that you know how this happened to me.”

“
I
told you, Gale. You were murdered.”

He
stood in the doorway, blocking the light, the sight oddly
reminiscent. “You said that,” I agreed. “Tell me
who did it.”

Bending
close, Valenforth whispered, a secret just for me. “You were
killed by the Queen of Dreams herself.”

Inside
of me, I felt a prickle. “She did this?”

“
Yes,
do you recall? My warnings about her?”

Nodding
slowly, the memories surfaced bit by bit.
He
told me to watch out for her, that she would be threatened by me...
because I could—I could actually kill her.

Again,
my hands drew my eyes. “She murdered me, because of what I
could do.”

His
voice was a hush. “Yes.”

I
chuckled, feeling jaded. “And you brought me
back
because of what I can do.”

Valenforth
bowed his head to me, so near, I was surprised I couldn't smell him.
Or anything. “You are very correct, Gale.”

My
name felt alien on his lips, like I'd prefer if someone else were
saying it. Turning, I slid off the bed, testing my legs to see if
they would hold me. The bare bottoms of my feet felt the coarse
fibers of the rug. I found I was dressed in jeans, as well as a
simple purple sweater that was clean, intact.
Are
these mine? I can't recall. What happened to my shoes?

There
was so much I didn't get, I might as well have woken up as somebody
else entirely.
Woken
up, brought back from the dead. All so Valenforth could... could...

I
stared back at him, the mattress between us. “You're going to
ask me to do to her what only I can, aren't you?”

His
smirk was brittle as ice. “How astute.”

“
Not
really. Why waste time bringing me back to life, if she's only going
to snuff me out again? You want me to get rid of her.”

“
Does
that bother you?”

“
Why
should it?” I peered at him like he'd said something extremely
odd. “You told me she killed me. If you're giving me a chance
to erase my murderer, I don't see why I'd struggle.”

Cocking
his head, Valenforth took me in all over again. “You seem more
blunt than I remember. More accepting, maybe.”

Clenching
my fingers, I took long steps until I pushed by him and through to
the hallway. “It probably has to do with the fact I'm a
walking corpse.”

Am
I really a corpse? He didn't deny it, didn't explain. Maybe he
doesn't care what I think.

It
probably doesn't matter.

Looking
side to side, I realized where I was. The familiar study, packed
with books, made it clear.
His
house, then.

“
What
are you looking for?” he asked, standing in the bedroom
doorway.

“
Nothing.”
That
isn't entirely true, I feel like there's something I SHOULD be
looking for. Something I want. Why can't I remember?
“Will my memory go back to normal?”

Valenforth
followed me down the hall. “It might, especially once you kill
the Queen of Dreams.”

“
Why
would that matter?”

“
She
murdered you, I believe destroying her will help knock into place
what's missing.”

Pausing
at the top of the stairs, I eyed the tall man as he stood behind me.
“I'll be honest, I don't care about your reasons anymore. I'm
fine with taking her out, like I said. But
why
do you want her dead? What did she do to you?”

He
stared me down, a sight that pulled out a memory; the time I'd been
afraid of him. Now, I just looked back at him, patient.

Chuckling,
he gave his head a quick shake. “You're astounding. Fine.
Telling you won't change anything.”

I
wonder what would change things?

“
I
want her dead,” he said carefully, “because I want
all
the twaelin dead.”

Blinking,
I sat down on the top step. It seemed appropriate. “All of
them? But there are so few of you, why does it matter?”

“
The
power of the undying, it doesn't sit well with me.”

“
You
realize you're a twaelin as well?”

Snorting,
Valenforth leaned on the wallpaper across from me. “A fact
that's haunted me. I hate the twaelin, it's why I penned that book
about them.”

That
black book, he wrote it?
I
fought a desire to go back into the bedroom, grabbing my backpack
where the tome rested inside still. “You wanted me to read it
and hate them too, didn't you?”

His
hair rustled as he nodded. “Correct.”

Scratching
my neck, I fought through the waves of fog. “But—but
then you must have known, even then, that I was capable of killing
you, killing them?”

“
No.
I suspected you were going to be capable of
something
,
since the Queen of Dreams was watching you. I had only a glimmer of
an idea when I met you and felt the power in you.”

His
timeline bothered me, but I couldn't grasp why. Digging at it, I
recalled cruel gold eyes, a little girl under a falling sign, warm
arms.

“
My
skull is pounding,” I groaned.

“
That
will happen. Perhaps we should take a break from this. Are you
hungry?”

“
Not
at all,” I said, rubbing my belly.
That's
weird too, right?
“I'm
not ready to stop yet. I want clarification. I kill this Queen for
you, and then what?”

“
And
then you will be safe from her, you could live a normal life.”

Finally,
what a concept. But there's more that he wants, I can see it.
“No.
And
then
what?
”

Sighing,
he folded his hands in his lap. “Then you will kill me.”

“
You?”

“
Me.”

Laughing,
I slid my hair off my forehead. “You really want to die?”

“
Living
forever is less wonderful than you might think. I've had a long
life.”

Raising
my fingers, I made a tight fist. “I could end it now, then.”

Flashing
me a bemused look, he chuckled. “No, I think not. The Queen,
then me. Then it is done.”

The
base of my head buzzed, thoughts begging to be heard. “Wait.
Wasn't there... another one of you?”

He
eyed me, silent.

“
Yeah.
Yeah, there was another guy. You told me you didn't know where he
was anymore—Creation, yes. What about him, you don't want
him
dead?”