Vulture (33 page)

38 - Apocalypse

They were a mass of misshapen silhouettes against the canvas of a clear blue sky. Sloping edges of sand dunes stretched out below their feet, heat making waves in the air. Kaliel curled into a ball on the sand, her fingers pressing in as the heat warmed her insides. Grains of sand stuck to her cheeks, smelling like sea and algae and the remnants of water that used to be there. All she could do was watch as Morgana with her ankle-length black hair and bloodied hands skidded down the hill towards her. Her black eyes shone in the afternoon light; her face was scrunched up in a scowl. She took careful, deliberate steps towards Kaliel, making tiny foot prints in the sand. The wind whipped across the desert and her light blue nightgown waved in the wind. Kaliel wanted to wipe her own profusely sweaty brow, salty beads of perspiration running down her face and accumulating above her lips. Her eyes filled with the same terror she held for Crestaos, a terror she had come accustomed to feeling when the Valtanyana were near. Only she had never been afraid of Morgana. Curiosity got the best of her. Morgana didn’t look dangerous; she was small and harmless.

Morgana cast a glance in the direction of the shapes behind her. Steps away from Kaliel, her lips curved into a half smile. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and stopped, towering above the Flame. Kaliel’s heart plummeted. There was something different about Morgana, different and so distinct she’d never be able to get the thought out of her mind. It was a smell, like horse hair, blood and rotting flesh. Kaliel gagged, her stomach dry heaving involuntarily. She was paralyzed, heat worrying its way into her bones, stinging her skin with red welts and blisters. She scrabbled to grab the sand, her fingers curling into it imperceptibly, and Morgana laughed.

“I awakened them,” she said, pressing her hands together. Blood squished out through her fingers, and Kaliel felt like throwing up. She was parched, her tongue a dry slug in her mouth. Her eyes shot daggers in Morgana’s direction, but the girl didn’t even register her attempt at reproach. Morgana bent down, her breath like spoiled meat hanging off her tongue. “Not all of them are here.”

Kaliel stared at the sand. She didn’t want to talk about Cassareece, buzzing jars, dust, or puzzle boxes. She didn’t want to remember the lake or the cabin or the retreat into the woods. A whimper rose in her throat and she fought against letting it out.

“Did you think you’d be smart? Capture Cassareece?” Morgana taunted. Her mouth was slack, her lips wet, saliva dripping off her chin.

Kaliel shook her head. She was sure Cassareece had the Flames. She left them in the sand. Her stomach growled angrily, sloshing and seasick. Her cheeks flushed green as Morgana lowered herself and pressed her slimy tongue to her cheek. She left a snail’s trail of saliva on her. Chills rippled through Kaliel. She wanted to run, wanted to break out of the holds keeping her chained to the dream, prisoner to the odd little girl.

Morgana bounced to her feet, laughing as Kaliel glowered at her. She clapped and smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It doesn’t matter, you know. Cassareece will come home to me, and I’ll come for him … and them …” She glanced at the silhouettes on the horizon. “They’ll come for you.”

Kaliel tensed, her muscles bunching into knots. She tried to crunch herself into a smaller ball, not wanting to know what the rest of them were like. Crestaos was ruthless, Morgana was insane, and Cassareece was manipulative. She didn’t need to know about the others; she trembled to the bone at the thought of what they’d do to her. She lost to them once before; she couldn’t face them again, knowing she’d fail.

Morgana twisted on her heel and walked back to the silhouettes, raising a hand in the air and snapping as she reached the incline of the dune.

Kaliel’s eyes opened; her limbs were stiff. She was in the cabin, her back pressed against Krishani’s side. His steady breaths were like the tide. She put a hand to the side of her head, wiping away the imaginary saliva on her cheek. There was nothing there, but she slid her hand down her face anyway. She glanced at the boy she loved and the guilt deepened. She couldn’t let Morgana have him. She wouldn’t let the Valtanyana destroy everything she worked so hard for.

Where was Cassareece?

She moved the quilts aside and took one last glance at Krishani’s perfect abs, the line of his jaw, the shape of his lips before tiptoeing across the floor and sliding her slippers on. She opened the door, but a cold breeze hit her dead on, making her feel naked in her nightgown. She closed it, glancing at Krishani, who grabbed the blanket and turned onto his side. She pulled the cloak off the wicker chair, threw it over her shoulders, and slung the hood over her head.

The wind was brisk and the sky was full of dark clouds. The air smelled like rain. Barely any light lit the village; a few torch flames flapped wildly. She took the stairs carefully and rounded the watchtower. It was one of those nights where all she could think about was the lake, the lake and the merfolk and the depths she could swim to with them cooing around her. She hastened her steps to the lake, nowhere near as beautiful as the one surrounding Avristar, hoping at the very least she could dip her feet in the water.

She stopped short when she reached the mound behind the castle. It crumbled on one end, rocks spreading across the grassy shore, showing signs of erosion. Someone sat on the mound, knees pulled up to her chest, chin resting on them. Her gaze was on the lake, blonde hair falling against her back.

Shimma glanced up as Kaliel padded across the grass and sat down. She didn’t want to talk to Shimma. Things weren’t good between them. The last thing she remembered about Shimma was confronting her outside the castle, taunting her about her relationship with Krishani. And there was the way he said they were friends, that she helped him. Kaliel wondered what had happened between them when she was dead.

“Can’t sleep either?” Shimma asked.

Kaliel copied Shimma’s pose. “I woke up,” she said, her tone cold.

“Are you having nightmares again?”

Kaliel closed her eyes. “How did you know?”

Shimma shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

Kaliel pressed her lips into a line. “Why did you come back?”

Shimma sighed. Kaliel took another look at her and noticed her puffy eyes; she looked as though she was mourning. “There’s something coming. I can feel it. Something isn’t right.”

Her stomach lurched. A million things were wrong outside of the perfection Kaliel tried to build for herself, but she didn’t know where to begin explaining Morgana and the Valtanyana and Cassareece to Shimma. She let out an undecipherable response and pressed her lips to her nightgown.

“I wish I didn’t have to come back,” Shimma said.

Kaliel gulped. “Why?”

Shimma took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the lake. “I saw what he became after you … after Crestaos …”

Kaliel lifted her eyes only to see Shimma fighting back tears of her own. Her stomach filled with knots as she thought back to the volcano, their exile, and Crestaos, the one who started all of this. Krishani refused to talk about what had happened. He refused to tell her about the black mark on his hand, how he ended up facing Crestaos, how he won.

Shimma let out a long breath. “All he wanted to do was protect the Flames. He wouldn’t even consider moving on, not until he knew the rest of them were safe.”

A lump formed in Kaliel’s throat as tears stung her eyes, burning her cheeks with their heat. She moved to her feet, shaking as she backed away from Shimma, but the other girl was on her feet, too; her eyes boring into Kaliel’s.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” she began. “But you have no idea how much it hurt him. You don’t know the things he did, the things he said …” Her face was full of concern, an emotion Kaliel couldn’t understand. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and Shimma because Shimma was with him when he didn’t know if he would ever see her again. She hugged her arms to her chest.

“I don’t want to know,” she whispered.

Shimma’s eyes blazed. “You don’t want to know who he killed?” She sized Kaliel up. “He almost killed Aulises.”

Kaliel ran. There wasn’t any other way to avoid the words tumbling out of Shimma’s mouth. No way to escape the haunting memories locked in her mind. Kaliel felt Shimma’s energy spill out, felt the sadness lurking deep within her. She also felt something else in Shimma’s energy, something that disgusted her. She loved him. She loved Krishani and it didn’t matter if he loved her back or not; it still hurt like she was on fire.

Kaliel didn’t want to go back to the watchtower and face Krishani. She didn’t want to ask him about Shimma and their time together. She went to find the one person who might understand what she did and why she did it. She didn’t know Krishani was the one who found the Flames, the ones she so callously handed over to Cassareece, the ones that would stand against them in the war.

She was so afraid to tell anyone but she was ready to burst. She was holding the weight of the guilt on her chest, hiding the rotten person she had become. She gave away the only hope they had against the Valtanyana.

And she loathed herself for it.

• • •

She reached the barn and clambered up the rungs, falling on her hands and knees. She wheezed and pressed her hands against her chest, tears falling on the planks below her.

“Pux,” she croaked. She tried to catch her breath but faltered, her elbows sinking to the floor boards.

“Kaliel?” He sounded far away. There was a shuffling sound like he was pawing his way through the hay bales and a hand was placed on her shoulder. Kaliel stood and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his furry shoulder. He tensed underneath her. He hugged her, then he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. His eyes searched hers, and she saw the strain on his face. She grimaced and moved to the back of the loft. Somewhere she could say what she had to say where she wouldn’t be heard.

She wrung her hands out, pain lancing through her like an arrow shot through her chest. She turned to find Pux behind her, sitting on a hay bale, his chin resting on his hand.

“I did something bad,” Kaliel began, her eyes watering.

Pux fixed his gaze on her; he looked serious. He nodded slowly, his lips curving to form words he didn’t say. She fell into the hay bales across from him, almost unable to keep herself upright. Strands of hay dug through the fabric, making prickles crawl across her skin. She rubbed her shoulders nervously.

“How bad?” Pux asked.

“The worst,” she whispered.

He looked frightened. “What did you do?” It didn’t look like he wanted the answer. He rubbed his free hand along his breeches nervously and pulled his eyebrows together.

“It was me. I took the Flames.” She choked, barely able to get the words past the lump in her throat.

Pux reached over, taking her hand in his. “I didn’t know they were missing.”

She gulped. “You’ll know soon. Everyone will know.”

“Why?”

“Because I gave them to the Valtanyana.”

Pux pulled his hand out of hers so fast she thought he might smack her. He didn’t, and instead he shifted and ran his hands over his face, pulling them down slowly over his eyebrows and his nose until they rested on his lips. His eyes filled with terror, the same terror he had when he was bleeding to death in the Village of the Shee. “Why would you do that?”

She sniffled and looked at her nightgown, picking at it with her fingers, rolling and unrolling a piece of fabric. Memories of the beach, Cassareece and her beautiful but cold stare sent shockwaves through her. Kaliel tried to hold it together but she shook. It seemed so simple at the time—one thing for another thing, something she needed more than she needed the Flames. Tor was on his way to take them back to the Great Hall, and he was going to hide them, protect them. She almost didn’t care because no matter what he did it wasn’t as good as what he had done for her—giving her life back. She didn’t understand how she ended up in the box or why she was given a second chance, but she wanted to hold onto every part of it.

Pux stared at her in disbelief.

“Krishani. Cassareece said he wouldn’t be a Ferryman anymore. And Avristar. She said she could make Terra like Avristar,” Kaliel said, her tone dropping almost to a whisper.

Pux let out a long breath and cupped a hand behind his neck. “They gave you one of those things.”

Kaliel nodded. Storms weren’t natural for Avristar, like Terra was fighting against itself; it couldn’t have peace without war or beauty without destruction. It was like Avristar in other ways—the trees spoke, and everything seemed more alive than before—only it was angry.

“I know.” She took a deep breath, remembering what Shimma said about what was coming. Pux knew it, too. The Valtanyana were coming, and they wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t be like last time where she could save everyone with a simple act of sacrifice. This time she didn’t know what to expect or how she could possibly fix it. Klavotesi hadn’t returned, which only made more knots conglomerate in her stomach. If he found out what she did … Pux took her hand, pressing his thumb into her knuckles.

“What happens now, Kaliel?” he asked, his eyes beseeching. He shifted off the hay bales and settled onto the floor boards, pressing his head against the stack of bales she perched on. She put her hand on his head, her fingers running through his rough hair. Her stomach was muddled with knots, but there was only one thing to say.

“Everyone dies.”

Pux gripped her hand harder. His tears hit her skin. His shoulders shook and she hated it, hated every part of making him feel like this. She wanted to take back everything she had done and stay dead.

Pux laughed without humor. “At least I got to kiss Jack before I died.”

Kaliel was temporarily pulled out of her maelstrom of guilt and regret. She sat straighter and slid off the hay bales so she was shoulder to shoulder with him, legs stretched out in front of them, crossed at the ankles. “You kissed Jack?”

Pux smiled ruefully. “He wanted to be kissed.”