Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) (42 page)

o one speaks.

I don’t look up from Mirain’s brilliant, white mane. Shedding any more tears seems pointless. I don’t blame myself for Brad’s death. I’m furious for wanting to get back at him, terrified by how happy he looked to see the bats, and by the panic in his eyes before the daemon drove its claw through his chest … and I’m confused by his apology.

My breath catches.

Brad is dead.

“Give me your hand.”

All that blood … .

“Kate?”

His smile … .

“Can you hear me?”

All our memories.

“Kate!”

I glance to my right.

Arland shakes my thigh. “Give me your hand, and I will help you down.”

Looking around, I find we’re in the stables. I don’t remember passing through the doors. Don’t remember the ride back. My brain is flooded with images of death.

Taking his hand, I slide from Mirain’s back. Knees buckling beneath me, I falter.

Wrapping his arms around mine, Arland keeps me upright. We’re still radiating the bright light. It makes my eyes ache. Makes the tears more blinding.

I cannot go downstairs right now, not where Perth can see me, not where
anyone
can see me. My body weighs a thousand pounds.

Mom and Cadman join us in Mirain’s stall, then hug me, holding me up with their support.

My spirit is reduced to nothing.

Stepping back, their foreheads crease with concern.

“Everything is going to be okay.” Arland murmurs in my ear.

“I hope so.” I bury my head in his chest. “You were right. I shouldn’t have been spiteful.”

He smoothes my hair with his palm. “Kate, do not blame yourself for this.”

”I don’t. I have a feeling those daemons were waiting for us. Maybe instead of rushing to get Brad home, we should have protected him after I had the vision.”

Unwilling to look anyone in the eyes, I keep my head against Arland. His shirt muffles my voice.

Mom squeezes my shoulder. “Kate, we will figure out what your visions mean. We will review every single one of your dreams. We will be more careful.”

“Brit wanted to do the same thing, but it’s too late for B-Brad.” I gasp. Too soon to speak his name … .

“We will work on it when you’re ready. Cadman, can you clear the way for Kate and Arland to enter the base without being seen?”

The Light has faded from Mom and Cadman.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I will return when it is safe.”

She watches him leave, then turns to me. “Kate, Brad was never part of your prophecy. If the daemons were waiting for us, then I suspect the leader of Darkness has been given information about you. I think Brad is going to be used against you, as you saw in your vision, but we know he will not be Brad. Do you understand?”

“Control my emotions, right?” I sigh. Controlling my emotions may be more difficult than it sounds. I had a slight grasp on them at the clearing, but I was able to protect only Arland. I couldn’t save Brad.

She nods.

Backing away from me, Arland turns to my mom.

“Are you suggesting one of our own has given information to our enemies?” he asks, his eyebrows arched, his voice raised.

The absence of his support makes me breathless, tired, and weak. I’d like to go to sleep in his arms and not think about the rest of the world for a while.

“I’m not positive, Arland. How else would you explain what happened tonight?”

I look for a place to sit. If they’re going to talk about who betrayed us, it’s going to take awhile. I’m going to seat myself before I fall.

Leaving them, I drop down onto one of the straw bales in the storage bay. Putting my head between my knees, I listen to their conversation while trying to breathe, trying to control.

They discuss what happened to Brad, skipping over the horrible details, but leaving in enough to make me feel sick.

The bat stabs its claw through his heart, over and over again, in my mind. A wave of nausea hits the pit of my stomach. Salty fluids fill my mouth. I spit on the straw beneath my feet, then take deep breaths.

His murder was so awful, so tragic … .

How are we going to explain his loss to Mr. Tanner? He’s already grieving over losing his wife, now his only son. Mom said her spells would work on him for however long we needed, but does that include death?

Closing my eyes, the face of the boy from the playground flashes before me. His baby blues were so big, so honest, so concerned when he picked me up from the asphalt. I was crying, and he was the only one who offered to help me. Blood ran down my knee, staining my white socks. Little black stones stuck to my tender skin.

“You’re Kate, right?” he asked me.

We’d gone to the same school since kindergarten, but I’d never paid attention to him before.

“Y-yeah,” I said through sobs, wondering how he knew my name.

“My name is Brad.”

“T-thank you, B-Brad,” I said when we reached the sterile, gray nurse’s office.

He sat me in a plastic chair, and stood next to me with his hands clasped in front of him, shifting from foot to foot. Brad lingered as though waiting for me to say something, but I continued to cry. He took the blue seat next to mine and told me stories, while blowing cool air on my knee, like my mom would’ve if she’d been there. Brad told bad one-line jokes, making me laugh.

A stray tear falls from my chin, then drips onto the dirt. I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve been sitting here. So far, I’ve been able to keep myself from throwing up, from losing control, from allowing myself to feel guilt, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up.

“I will speak with every one of my men right now.” Arland’s voice draws me from my misery.

His comment makes my brain snap back into the present, out of its weakness. Arland is going to walk into the base, glowing, and question everyone about me? Does he want Perth to find out? Does Arland want the guilty person to run away before we get the information we need?

He doesn’t need to speak to every one of his men. It takes me about three seconds to run down the list of those who know about me.

“Arland, wait.” I stand. My legs tremble. The room spins.

Closing my eyes, I wait for the dizziness to pass. When I’m sure I’m not going to be sick, I join Mom and Arland. “Flanna, Lann, Kegan, Cadman, Mom, Brit, possibly Gavin, and Dunn—they’re the only ones who know about me. I can account for their whereabouts, with the exception of Gavin, Dunn, and Lann.”

“I spoke to Gavin and Dunn after they saw us return from the clearing; neither noticed anything out of the ordinary.” Arland pauses. “I do not believe it was Lann, or anyone close to us. I would have sensed something.”

Mom meets my eyes, holding my gaze … she doesn’t blink. “Arland, we should take some time to think before we speak with anyone about our suspicions. Kate has had a very difficult day. I think it would be wise for you both to rest.”

So many years, I thought Mom didn’t care about my feelings, didn’t worry about things that got me down. There wasn’t much for me to complain to her about, other than my visions, but those were the most haunting parts of my life. Now, she’s here, she’s supportive, caring. I want to hug her for suggesting Arland and I need to relax, but I don’t.

“You are right. We should rest.”

My skin is cold. I’m exhausted, hungry, empty—so many different emotions I’m failing to control.

He looks down at me. “I am sorry. I was upset at the suggestion someone had turned against us … against you, Kate. I stopped thinking about what you needed.”

I lean into his side. “It’s okay.”

Arland puts his arm across my back, soothing me with his warmth.

“Kate, the magic you have been conjuring is powerful, and it can drain you … as it did your father. You must rest after using so much of it.”

“H-how much do you know, Mom? Is anyone else I love going to die? Is it even possible for me to fight against Darkness? How long do I have to rest? How long will this pain remain in my chest? Why does it hurt so much?”

“Your path is clear.” Cadman’s voice sends a shock through me.

I didn’t even hear him come up the stairs.

“Thank you, Cadman.” Mom calls over her shoulder, then returns her gaze to me. “The pain will go away, Kate. These things take time. And tonight is not the night to discuss your prophecy.”

Arland’s stomach growls. “We should eat.”

“Okay.” Although I’m hungry, the thought of eating brings on another wave of nausea.

Flanna and Brit serve us stew in the dining room.

Mom goes over the details of everything that happened with the others, while keeping them away from Arland and me.

Brit catches my eyes a few times as she walks around, performing various mundane tasks I normally do. I need to talk to Brit about her voice in my head, and about Brad. Even though she wasn’t his biggest fan, she must be hurting. But I can’t. I can’t think about him, or about what happened. I’m too tired, too sick of feeling depressed to grieve over him.

Arland rests his hand on my leg, calming, but not stopping, my shaking fits. His fingers are stiff, tense. I’m sure worrying about who betrayed us is driving him crazy, but he needs rest as much as I do. While I’ve been the one conjuring the magic, he’s been using it quite well when it envelops him. He appears lost in his thoughts; his eyes are focused on something across the room.

Pushing away my bowl, I think about my dad, while Arland dabs his spoon at his food.

My dad was able to conjure old magic, maybe not the same way I do, but he was capable. What other things do I share with him? What other things made him special that I should know about? I wish I knew him, wish I could talk to him now. What would he say, watching his little girl fight daemons he saw only a few times? Would he be proud of me, or would he think I needed to be doing more, be more fearless?

Arland rubs his hand along my leg; it bounces wildly. The more I think, the more tired I become. His warm, soothing touch creates goose bumps all over my skin.

Lifting my head from my hands, I look at his face.

He gives me the same longing gaze he had in the stables yesterday, or the day before—I’ve lost track of time.

I smile at him, heart thudding rapidly. I don’t know how it’s possible for me to feel this way, after everything that’s happened, but Arland somehow drowns out all the bad and makes me happy.

“If you do not mind, Mrs. Wilde, I would like to steal Kate for the remainder of the evening.” Arland regards my mom with formality.

She and Cadman came to sit with us after Flanna and Brit went up to the stables.

“You take all the time you need to rest. We can save our discussion for tomorrow.” Mom gives me a warm smile, then returns to her quiet conversation with Cadman.

Arland leads me out to the courtyard I almost forgot existed. We haven’t come here since the first day we met. Nothing has changed, although the chestnut tree appears to be leaning a little more, and the plants growing along the walls are dried up, and with the help of a little wind, will blow away any day.

“Do you remember what I told you about this place?” Arland asks.

“It’s protected by magic,” I say, void of my normal tone of voice, shocking myself with how monotone it is.

He laughs. “Well, yes, it is protected by magic. But do you remember why we come out here, Kate?”

“To draw, after bad battles.”

Arland wants me to draw out the scenes of what happened tonight?

I’m not going to do it.

I refuse.

“No!”

He holds my gaze, eyes pleading with me.

“Kate, you loved Brad. I know you are hurting in so many different ways, and I know he caused a lot of that pain. But what you felt for him was innocent, pure.” Arland rubs my shoulders. “You need to deal with this.”

I shake my head. I’m not ready to face reality. I’m not ready to accept Brad’s gone. I don’t want to think about death. Panic bubbles in my core. I want to flee. I don’t want Brad to go up on these walls. “No! Let’s go back inside, please? I’m tired.”

“Kate,” Arland says, lifting my chin, “it will help.”

“Fine!” I grab a small twig from near my feet, draw a stick figure of Brad, then jab the twig through his chest. I glower at Arland.