Six (3 page)

A fist connects with the side of my face. It leaves me with a metallic taste and a subtle throb of pain. Surprisingly the feelings are gone, including the anger. Blood trickles out of my mouth and the warm feeling as it slides down my face comforts me.

“That’s strike two, freak,” Lana jeers. Her face is full of malice and her silver eyes alarm me. “It’s one thing if you blast me with your perpetual lightning storm, but quite another if you fuck with my friends.”

“I cannot control it,” I mutter. “I was just remembering something and it took over my body…I swear.” I wipe my lip with the cuff of my shirt and stand up.

“Don’t think you can use
feeling or remembering
as an excuse just because it worked in the forest. I know of your kind, remember? You’re shrewd. You’ll use our feelings against us,” Lana says as she grabs the back of my shirt and leads me away from the group. She takes me to one of the houses in the circle and holds the door open for me.

I walk in and examine everything. I take in every single detail I can notice from where I stand. To determine the weakness of the structure and to take into account every single point of entry in the house. “Four windows and one door,” I say out loud after my study is complete. Lana looks at me sideways as she takes off her bow and quiver and places them by a bed.

“Yeah, nice counting, Ace,” she smarts. “You can sleep on the bed on that side of the room.” She picks up a knife and starts sharpening it. I sit on the threadbare bed she indicates, yet I worry because it is underneath one of the windows. She slides the blade down a stone, and then looks at me.

“If you’re telling the truth and you really were remembering something when the freak show started out there, then tell me. You can start finding yourself quicker if you are able to pull up memories from when you actually felt something—other memories from before you were an asshole.”

I cross my arms over my chest when I realize all the names she calls me are derogatory.

“My name is Emmalina. Please do not call me other names, as that is disrespectful.”

Lana laughs loudly, but does not miss a beat as she skims the large blade over the rock one more time. She silences and waits for me to speak.

“I was remembering when I was a child. My mother was laughing as she ran after me in our yard. It was from a time before I knew creatures—or savages as you call them—even existed. I felt no fear. It is the only memory I have that does not involve fear. I had all my emotions then and fear was absent.” I bring my fingers up to the corner of the mouth and they come away bloody.

“I have a similar memory except I know what I was feeling. Our caretakers never let us forget,” Lana says as she hands me a damp cloth, the knife still in her hand.

I press it to my lip and speak through it. I idly wonder about the caretakers she speaks of, but the need to defend my mother wins out. “My mother did not let me forget. I am as I should be, as I am meant to be. She was only readying me for my fate.” As the words leave my mouth I start to worry about their truth. There was another way and my mother decided against it. I trusted her judgment implicitly, but now I know another source forced her hand.

Lana grabs my hand and lays it palm up in hers. She takes the knife, now sharp as a razor blade, and slowly drags it across my hand. I wince, but I do not remove my hand. Her silver eyes lock on mine and I feel compelled to stay in this moment. Blood drips from my hand and I hear it drum on the wooden floor in rhythmic taps. The pain is searing, but there is nothing else inside me.
Emptiness.

“She
did
let you forget, but the pain will help you remember,” she says.

My mind is on the border of something, or perhaps I am about to burst with magic again, but I feel different.

Lana smiles with approval.

“Your eyes are blue,” she says.

Chapter Three

January 11th, Morning

I sleep without fear for the first time since childhood. All it takes is pain to remove the thing embedded so deeply that it breathes on its own, without my permission. I ball up my fist and cringe when I feel the small wound that resides on my palm. I heal quicker than a human, but without use of my magic I know it will be days before I heal completely. I welcome the challenge.

My eyes pop open, adjust to the dark, and take in my surroundings. Lana is sitting on a bench by the large front window. Her head is propped on her hands, her bow on the windowsill in front of her. She has slept at the window all night, I am sure of it. When she hears me stir she turns her head to look at me, silent thought etched on her features.

“You were there all night?” I ask. My attempt at making the bed is futile as there is one worn blanket and nothing else. I feel a twinge of something when I think of my bed back at home. My home. I miss it. I miss her.
Anger.

“No, why would I do that?” She turns back to the window, but I sense she is lying.

“Because you are afraid of the creatures,” I tell her, sure she is just as afraid of them as I am. I make a fist to repress my anger.

“The savages? I could kill those buffoons in my sleep. The truth of the matter is I’m afraid of what he’ll do to you…and me, when he gets back.” Something she says strikes me as odd.

“You said
he
. You mean
she
. There are no male darklings.” Lana spins around on the bench to face me. She looks worn and weary.

“Oh, I definitely meant
he
.” She smiles oddly and it confuses me further. If male darklings actually exist, it goes against everything I have learned in my studies of dark witches. To purify the bloodline, the witches with their nasty guard of savages kill all the half-human males at birth. The witches keep track of everything—they have complete control over this world.

“There is one that was not killed? How is that possible? To cleanse the bloodline, only half human females are permitted to live to see their fate.” I quote from my studies. It was only yesterday that I realized how exactly they planned on
cleansing
the bloodline. Lana rubs the sleep from her eyes and rummages through a cabinet. I hope she is finding food for us.

As she shuffles containers about she says, “Finn isn’t the only male who lives, oh, sheltered one.” She coughs to cover a laugh and resumes shaking packages and sniffing bags. “In the other circles there are more males. Here, it’s only Finn.”

I am irritated when I see her close the cabinet empty handed. “One male and all these females?” I saw at least thirty the night before.

“It’s not at all what you’re thinking. He gathers and trades for us at other circles every once in a while, but there is a decree prohibiting him from…how should I phrase it? Doing anything that might chance procreating. Your mother made a deal to spare your life and Finn made his own deal to spare his.” She shoots me a smug smile before lacing up her boots and signaling for me to follow her.

I am intrigued about the idea of a male darkling, but suddenly uneasy about the mention of my mother’s sacrifice.

“We’re headed to the lagoon. You reek, darkling.” I sniff my long sleeved tee and wrinkle my nose. It has blood, sweat, and ash from nothingness coating it, as do my pants. A bath is a good idea. “Remember, no funny business unless you want a repeat slicing,” Lana says as she mimics a knife dragging across her palm. She leads me out the door.

All the little houses are quiet and black. There are no breezes, season changes, or inclement weather on earth. My mother used to speak of rain, tornados, and other fantastic variances in nature, but I wonder if they too were lies to occupy a young mind—something for me to grasp onto in the absence of feeling. I do not need her stories any longer. Just being outdoors without fear of the savages is monumental. I glance at Lana’s hand to make sure she carries her bow and I am relieved even further.

“Lesson on staying alive
numero uno
, the savages can’t sense you if you aren’t being a super freak—
a la
glowing eyes and vibrating body. Keep your magic in check and your heart keeps beating…and you make my job a little easier. We have to go into the forest to get to the lagoon.” She pauses and then turns around to make sure I have heard her.

I nod my head in agreement because I am unsure if I have control over my magic and a verbal yes would seem a lie. I do not want to lie to Lana. I ball up my fist to make sure the wound is still open and pain radiates up my arm. The pain buries what I do not wish to feel.

I sigh in relief. “My mother never told me that,” I say quietly.

Lana takes my hand and drags me to walk next to her. She swings up her bow to ready for the forest and tells me, “Emma, I’m willing to bet your mother didn’t tell you a lot of things.” A shiver rises up my back forcing my neck hairs to stand on end. The mere mention of the only person I have ever trusted omitting truths spurs fear.

Lana notices she has upset me and changes the subject. “Tell me about the dark witches that came to your house.”

I clutch my palm, forcing it open to bleed, and answer her. “There were five witches. They were almost identical. I was different compared to them, too,” I admit. She grabs my bleeding hand and shakes her head.

“This isn’t a good habit to get into.” She smiles widely, pleased at my new trick. “I cut you last night to make a point.”

“What was the point?” I ask.

“Isn’t it obvious? You have control over yourself. You have control over your emotions still. The magic doesn’t. I cut you to hurt you…and to make you angry.”

I stop walking, furious at what she points out.

“Emma, you are basically a dark witch at this point. I’m the only person on the entire planet that will help you—that gives two shits if you live or die.” She places her hands on her hips and stares me down.

I want my eyes to glow white out of defiance but cannot force myself to do it.
I do not want the magic to overtake me.

“Do you want my help?”

I take three deep breaths. My heart is pounding and anger is blistering the atmosphere, but I know I do want her help. Lana gauges me for my response. She does not know how I will respond. Her eyebrows wrinkle in concern.

I stay silent, so she continues. “I’ll take you to the Dark Citadel right now if that’s what you want. You’ll meet your new husband and he’ll be forcing his clean DNA into your body by eve. I mean fuck, who wouldn’t want that fate? He might even visit your bed
first
before the hundred other mindless darklings he’s married to. You’re so lucky, Emma.”

Her words are callous and only stoke the ever-growing fire of rage inside my body. I want to kill her, I want to rearrange her delicate features into something befitting a monster. My anger is now fury.

“It may not be a fate that you find appealing, but it is the fate that my mother bought for me with her life,” I say through gritted teeth. “She also said the dark witches will kill me when they are finished with me and no, I do not wish
that
fate, so I
do
need your help.” I notice the blood dripping from my hand and relax it by my side. My magic does not surface.

“Smart move, darkling. We’re almost to the lagoon. Try to keep that hand wrapped up.” She tosses a brown satchel to me. It contains more vegetables. I see her smile before she turns and stalks off. She has angered me on purpose again.

I reevaluate Lana. She is a
brutal
savage.

Chapter Four

January 11th, Afternoon

“I promise there are absolutely zero savages in this water.” Lana is completely naked. She is thrashing about in the water like a person mad. She laughs as she watches me shake my head in refusal. The lagoon as she calls it, is a lake, entirely surrounded by nothingness. Likely, savages are peering at us from all angles. I whip my head around, sure an attack is eminent.

A tree branch snaps.

Lana’s clothing hanging from it falls down to the ground. I am immediately suspicious. Her voice forces my attention again.

“You stink, you’re dirty. Your magic freak switch is off. Get in the water and clean yourself, Emma,” she says before ducking below the murky water.

She tells me it is a lake that actually survived from the old world. Not very much survived the magical blast that encompassed the globe. It fascinates me now that I am able to see such things up close. My mother’s stories did not do them justice. She told me about a huge war between light and dark witches from the old world. It came down to a single decision. The light witch, a Bruxa, as they were called back then, chose a path, threw a punch, and here we are. It was all because of love. It makes sense why the dark witches think emotions such a liability. If one emotion ended the old world—Earth, as it had been for billions of years–what would the others do? Sometimes I imagine the expansive universe swirling beyond my own planet and wonder what other beings on other planets feel, if anything. Is love enough to destroy the universe?