Maybe Fate: A Novel (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (42 page)

Suddenly,
my hands felt very heavy as I stared at them. “What if I don't
remember how to do that?”

“
How
to what?”

“
How
to kill her, how to use this power I have?” Flexing my
fingers, I once again stared at the grime under my nails. “I
can't—my memory, it's so weird. I don't remember how I...”

Before
I went too far down my unsettled path, Valenforth leaned close to
me, speaking soothingly. “Gale, calm down. It will be easy.
All you have to do is touch her, touch her energy, and the rest will
happen naturally.”

Meeting
his sympathetic eyes, I set my hands back in my lap. “You're
sure?”

“
I
have to be sure.”

Watching
him in silence, I remembered his words from when I'd first awoken
earlier.
If
he wants all the twaelin dead, then...
Shooting
a glance at Ethlyn, my voice went flat. “And what happens
next, after we destroy her?”

“
Then,”
he mused, pulling away in one graceful motion, “like I told
you, the twaelin will be gone.”

I
thought Ethlyn might react, but he didn't. He didn't move an inch.

Inside
of myself, I felt a twinge of... guilt? I couldn't tell, whatever it
was made me raise my voice, slap my hands onto the table. “Hey,”
I said at the moping young man. “Is that okay with you?”

Lifting
his sapphire blue eyes, Ethlyn watched me with lethargy. “Why
wouldn't it be?”

“
He's
said he wants all the twaelin dead. That means you, too.”

In
answer, he shrugged imperviously.

The
warm burn of righteous anger faded, put out by his lack of caring.
Valenforth, when he spoke again, did so with a gentle voice. “It
is how it should be. Death is the ultimate goal, and one we can
finally achieve.”

Holding
my belly, I bit back my desire to point out the humor in him
bringing me back to life, just so I could bring them all
destruction. “Fine,” I muttered, unsure how to not feel
some disgust at them both. “Then I guess it's settled.
Tomorrow, you both get to enjoy what it's like to die. Aren't you
lucky.”

Pushing
my chair out loudly, I stalked out of the room, not surprised they
didn't call after me. I wasn't sure where I was even going.

The
house was huge, the size reminding me of the first time I had come
there.
Back
then, I hadn't even known what Mr. Birch—Valenforth—really
was.
My
feet took me down a hallway, into a back area that revealed itself
to be a pantry.

Lifting
my brows, I turned in a circle to take in the sight of all the
canned foods, cereals, and dried fruit. There was a sense of
something being
wrong
.

The
twaelin don't need to eat... why would Valenforth keep all this food
here?

Touching
a box of frosted corn flakes, I turned it over, looking for the
expiration date.
This
doesn't make sense.
Setting it back, I wandered the room some more until I found a small
door.

Pushing
it open, I flicked on the switch, illuminating the place below. The
cellar was well maintained, the stairs hardly creaking as I
descended.

At
first, nothing seemed out of place. My skin was chilly with the
rising sense of unease, but there was still no obvious reason.

The
walls were covered in wine racks, as well as coolers used to store
perishables. It was the work of someone who liked to be prepared, it
reminded me of my own mother's logic. She'd buy things on sale and
shove them in our small freezer all the time.

Wandering
closer, I was amazed to feel my heart thumping. I hadn't felt any
real, strong emotions since Valenforth had brought me back to life
some hours ago. It wasn't as fully fleshed as normal, but I
felt
something.

Standing
over the coolers, I had a ghastly idea that I might find something
terrible inside. My mind went wild, conjuring images of dead bodies
kept on ice.

I
was relieved when my shaking fingers pulled the cover aside, finding
nothing but bags of vegetables and a few whole chickens.

Sighing,
I closed it off and looked around again. The cellar struck me, once
more, as immaculate and clean.

In
one corner, though, I spotted something that was out of place.
Inching over, I saw in the dim lights the hard edges of square
frames.

Pictures?
I wondered, brushing the edge of one with my finger tips.
Who
keeps their photos in a basement?

Turning
one around, I didn't find any dust on the glass. It was clear that
the large wall hanging I was looking at, a photo of a smiling woman
with perfect teeth, had been hanging somewhere until recently.

Looking
down into those faded eyes, flipping it around to stare at the next
one behind it, I finally understood. I knew why there were framed
pictures in front of me, hidden away in the cellar.

The
food made sense, when you thought about this being a home belonging
to a husband and wife.

Valenforth
wasn't masquerading as an English teacher all this time... He
consumed Wallace Birch, and then just took over his life.

Covering
my mouth, I wondered if I would have become ill if I had felt truly
like myself. If I hadn't been so distant, so detached, would I have
been more unsettled?

I'm
pretty freaked out, even so. How could I have been so naive? The
signs were there. An empty home, the blank spots on the walls where
he took the photos down. Did he kill her, then? Where did she go?

I
clutched the sweater I had on, groaning at my clarity.
This
is hers, isn't it? I died, he needed clean clothes for me, clothes
not stained in blood.

I
hadn't even know Mr. Birch was married, he just taught my English
class
...

What
will happen when people notice she's missing?

Shaking
my head, I forced my legs to carry me out of that basement.
Everything felt wobbly, my knees acting on instinct as they bent to
remove me from that scene.

I
was outside, through the back sliding doors and sitting on the
grass, before I knew it.

Hugging
my knees, I put my forehead on top of them. I'd missed everything,
been tricked entirely.

And
what does it even matter, now? Valenforth killed at least two
people, pretended to be one of them... and now he wants me to kill
him, anyway.

So
why does it matter, knowing this now? Wouldn't I crave for a chance
to destroy him, any other time? It's in my hands, the ability, and
he WANTS me to do it.

I'm
getting the opportunity to rid the world of two insanely dangerous
murderers.

Why
do I still feel so helpless?

The
cool air on my skin felt good, not at all like the icy fingers of
coming winter. I didn't hear the footsteps, but I felt the presence
seconds before he sat down beside me.

“
Hey,”
Ethlyn whispered.

“
Hey.”
The response was automatic.

We
sat there together, neither of us making a sound. My pants felt
rough on my forehead, I noticed I was pushing my face into my legs
as hard as I could. Inhaling through my nose, I forced myself to
lift my head, to look over at the twaelin beside me. “I found
the pictures in the basement.”

He
met my eyes, nodding without any surprise. “I'm sorry you had
to find out at all.”

“
Are
you?” I asked, crinkling the bridge of my nose. “You
were content to let it be, then. When did it happen, when did he
kill them?”

His
blue orbs flicked to the grass, like the fresh dew was the most
interesting thing. “The night I dropped a sign on you.”

The
spark that shot through my brain continued on, down to my belly.
“Before that, he was still just Mr. Birch?”

“
Yeah.”

Sliding
a palm over my face, I tugged at my thick hair. “So he and his
wife, they're dead because of me.”

Ethlyn
jerked his gaze back to me, reaching out like he wanted to grab my
shoulder. Instead, he left his hand hanging awkwardly, like I
couldn't be touched. “No! No, it isn't your fault. He's the
one who chose to kill them. I told him he didn't
need
to do it, he could just have me keep watching, and...”

My
mouth straightened. “Did you tell him that before or after you
consumed Ethan?”

There,
that sadness. It came back full force, his hand falling down from
the air. “You're wrong about that, you don't know the
situation.”

Turning
on the grass, I gripped the ground tight by my legs. “Then
tell me,” I demanded. “Explain it, because right now,
I'm having trouble finding one redeeming thing about you monsters.”

He
didn't blink when he lifted his eyes to meet mine. “There
is
nothing redeeming about us. We deserve to be destroyed, we're
nothing but terrible blights on the world. But you're still wrong
about what happened between Ethan, and me.”

Leveling
my eyebrows, I watched him closely, daring him to continue.

Ethlyn
took a slow, calming breath. Then, he began to speak. “Before
you came around, I did little in this world besides sit. I would
sit, and I would watch everything, and I would seethe.

“
I
knew little joy, because the world is cruel. Humans are born, and
then you die, and in between you do little but suffer. You're weak
and helpless,” he said it so matter-of-factually. I wanted to
interrupt him. To tell him he was wrong, except...

Except
I wasn't so sure, anymore.

Closing
his eyes, he hesitated. “Then one day, sitting in a park, I
saw something. There was a group of children, and they were all
picking on this one other kid. He wasn't tinier, or weaker, than any
of them.” Looking up, he stared at the sky above, the blue
fading away as day approached. “Even so, though I could see no
difference, they beat on him. Finally, I overheard what they were
saying. They were calling him weird, stupid, useless... and all
because he was the only child among them without a family.”