Authors: Chris Michaels,Reema Farra
Bound (2 page)
J
ason Everett had died. This should have been undeniable. After all, no one can beat Death. He remembered the gunshots and the smoke, even his last breath. But he didn’t
feel
dead. There was no light at the end of the tunnel or hands dragging him down. He wasn’t cold. In fact, he wasn’t much of anything. His memories muddled together: her tears, the Diamond Book, all his promises. The rational half of his mind screamed in protest, warring against what he somehow knew to be true.
What he simply couldn’t deny.
Jason had died, but he was not Dead.
“The love between the goddess Amani and the god Thane burned so fierce – a passion so desperate – that when barbarians slew Thane, Amani’s grief tore the third moon in half.”
– Ilsan Creation Myth
CHAPTER ONE
H
annah Blue couldn’t move. She was trapped in formation, legs frozen in place, arms pinned to her body though there was nothing and no one touching her. Fear held her in place. Terror and silence and all those distant eyes. I wish it were me instead! she screamed inside.
An icy breeze kissed her face, nearly freeing her tears. She didn’t mean that. She didn’t want to die, just never to have existed: never felt the lash of love or the bite of happiness. The anguish of losing him.
Focus, Hannah.
She raised her head and looked into the sky. Two and a half moons swam in a sea of twilight overhead. Hannah made a wish on the broken moon that hung between Thane and Amani. If you get me out of this, I don’t know what, but I swear I’ll do something. She swallowed hard and looked back across the field. The evening emerged soggy, windswept and bitterly cold. Last night’s rain still clung to the ground. As was common in this part of the Ilsan Republic, grey consumed everything like a monster gobbling up the sky, the mud, the buildings and the men.
The Camp Thane airstrip lay thirty miles west of the Trenches where she was enslaved. This field normally launched the steam-powered flyers and gliders, or more recently bi- and tri-planes that battled high above No Man’s Land. Sometimes the airstrip served as a hospital, staining the dirt red with blood. Right now the land held the most sacred warrior ceremony.
A ceremony she had ruined.
Somehow she was in the middle of the field, the center of attention. Alone with the box.
Her breath caught. All those distant eyes focused on her.
The soldiers she’d pretended to be a part of snapped to attention. Rifles aimed at her. A siren blared, announcing intrusion.
Soldiers gaped at her from across the field, obviously dumbstruck about how she’d slipped past security. That thought struck her funny. It hadn’t been that hard. No one watched the female slaves. Not that it had been easy. She nearly gave up before she stole her soldier’s disguise. She almost ran away when they selected her as part of the ceremony. But the thought of not knowing the truth – of not being absolutely sure – was more than she could bear. Now she was about to face the truth that had kept her sleepless for three days.
Hannah stared at the six foot long, thee foot wide metal casket with silver swirls on the lid. Frost adorned the entire thing. She touched it and cut her hand on the cold, sharp edge. She jerked her hand back and wiped the blood on her shirt. She only had a few seconds before the Honor Guard tackled her. Hannah wiped away frost and brought her broken reflection into view. Short black hair hidden by a helmet. Large brown eyes wet with tears. A face that might have been pretty if not covered by dirt and soot. Nothing special though. No one special. Just a Taker of the Dead.
In the past couple months, her reflection had shown a lot of things: passion, rapture, longing. Shock three days ago. Steel resolve only a few hours past. This time she saw only a glimmer of fear and a speck of relief.
She would finally have her answer.
Hannah removed her helmet, setting free her shoulder-length black hair. It didn’t matter if they knew she was a girl now.
Sounds of feet splashed through the mud behind her, followed by razor sharp voices. Her heart beat faster as she gripped the top of the box, sucked in a frigid breath and pushed. The lid creaked and slid off. She leaned forward to look into the casket.
A second passed. Her every muscle tensed.
“Jason?” Her legs gave way.
There was no denying it anymore. No telling herself someone else had been shot down.
“Jason, you promised.” Her voice cracked. “You said forever.”
Suddenly everything changed. The cold vanished. Green grass sprouted in a circle at her feet. Red and white flowers sprang from the mud. Her faded uniform became crisp and bright. The blood she’d wiped on her shirt shone vibrant red. She inhaled. The air in this bubble was fragrant, not smoky like the rest of the battlefront.
The Honor Guard halted their charge, eyes wide, appearing paralyzed by something they couldn’t explain.
She couldn’t explain it either.
Hannah felt Jason’s warm touch on her face. His sweet breath upon her skin. Her feelings burst to life like the grass around her. Her heart nearly sprang from her chest.
Jason!
He was there. His embrace surrounded her.
Then, fast as lightning, the majick fizzled away. Her world was icy and grey once more. The soldiers advanced.
Hannah fell, sobbing. Pain burst across the back of her skull and sent her sprawling into the mud. Captured. As consciousness slipped away, she only had time for one last thought.
Now I do want to die. I hope they make it quick.
Hannah’s upper body lay slumped over the table, eyes closed. She’d been awake for a few minutes and could hear two guards heatedly discussing what to do with her, but refused to alert them. If she kept her eyes closed, maybe they’d do it quickly and she could live life as she dreamed. Hidden plans to run away. Flying high with Jason in a tri-plane, or wrapped in his embrace in the secret place where they’d first met. It wouldn’t matter where they were as long as he was next to her. His gentle hand . . .
Wham!
Something slammed on the table right next to her.
The unnatural glass ball hanging by a thin metal wire startled her.
Forbidden majick?
A shudder ran through her.
No. Electric light. Amazing. Scary.
These marvels had begun to creep into her world, replacing steam and clockwork machines, but she had never seen one so close.
An even voice commanded her attention, “Your name is Hannah Blue?”
She turned to see a man wearing a Captain’s uniform, thick mustache, and a deep frown. Behind him, two young men held themselves at attention so fiercely that they looked more like statues. One had red hair. The color of Jason’s. The color of fire.
Her mouth fell open but no words escaped.
The Captain stepped closer. “When I speak, you will answer promptly. Are you Hannah, Ilsan subject?”
