Darkness Falls (20 page)

“A bug flew in my mouth,” I explain when Aiden looks at me strangely.

He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, wiping the sand away, taking in my lips with great attention.

“How did you know about the kissing thing?” I ask, tucking strands of my stray hair behind me ear.

He doesn’t answer, because he can’t.

“It’s because you’ve kissed me before, isn’t it.” I touch my lip. “We’ve kissed a lot of times, haven’t we?”

His eyes burn hot with desire. “You remember?”

“No. Sorry it was just a guess.”

He brushes his hair out of his eyes and keeps his hand there to block away the blowing sand. “Don’t worry, you will.” And that’s all he says.

“Can you at least explain to me what it is?” I ask. “Because when we kiss it feels like…”

“You could feel everything about me,” he finishes for me. “It happens when
you
get close to someone … really close to someone.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“So if I kissed someone else the same thing would happen?”

He feigns insult. “Who else are you planning on kissing?”

I smile, but a memory rushes back to me, sharp and painful, stinging my brain.

“It’s important that you practice standing alone, Kayla,” Monarch tells me. “So that when the time comes, you’ll be able to handle it.”

“But sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I just want to be normal.”

“Life is hard sometimes,” Monarch replies. “But you’ll do what you have to if it means fixing the world. It’s what you were made for.”

“Kayla, did you hear me?” Aiden’s standing in front of me. I’ve stopped walking and he looks concerned. “Is everything okay? Are you remembering things on your own again?”

“No,” I lie, shaking the memory away.

“Maybe we should take that break now,” he suggests.

I force a smile. “We’ve got darkness chasing after us.”

“We have to make it through darkness, anyway,” he says, hiking toward a cluster of red rocks. “So we might as well take a break and make sure we’re all rested and reenergized.”

I trudge along after him, parking my unenthusiastic body on top of a flat rock.

 Aiden takes off his bag and pulls out two bottles of water, tossing one to me. “Here, drink up.”

I take a sip, while he pulls a bag of funny shaped flat things that look like little pieces of bread. But when I put one in my mouth, it taste so much better than bread.

“This is good.” I cover my mouth as crumbs spill out.

“You know, they really didn’t feed us very well in The Colony.” Aiden sips from the bottle. “That’s one of the first things I noticed when I was thrown out here.”

I pop another piece into my mouth. “So you really don’t know what The Gathering is?” I question. “Even after all your memories resurfaced?

“All my memories haven’t resurfaced yet,” he says, his gaze lifting to the top of the hills. “And no, I don’t know what it is, because it wasn’t an erased memory—it wasn’t a memory at all.”

I chew slowly, confused. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“I was unconscious.” His eyes are still on the hill line, this strange look shifting into his expression. Then he jumps to his feet, tossing everything into his bag. “We need to move. Now.” He hooks the bag over his shoulder and pulls me to my feet.

I glance back, at the hill. “What did you see?”

“I’m not sure,” he mutters, dragging me toward a cave.  “But I think we might be being followed.”

“By Dominic?” I hurry with him. “Would he do that?”

“I think it might.” He stops in front of the dark cave, staring down at it. “We need a place to hide.”

I blink down at the cave, resting at the bottom of the rocks, one of the easier ones to get to. “They might be inside.”

“I know.”

“I should check first then.” I start for it, but he tightens his hold on my hand. “Aiden, they won’t hurt me.”

He lets out a breath, nodding, and releases my hand. “But take your knife out, just in case.”

I do and then walk to the edge, where the line rests between darkness and light, life and death.

Once my foot crosses the line of darkness and I enter the cave, I know there’s no turning back. It seems like it has a deep back at first, but when I walk further inside, I realize that it’s actually quiet shallow. I check the shadows, behind rocks, in dark corners and breathe a sigh of relief.

“You can come in,” I call out to Aiden, putting my knife away.

He steps in gingerly, his heart beating fiercer the moment he crosses into the dark side. His hand rests on his pocket, trembling with the desire to draw out his knife.

“Did you see them?” I ask, sliding off my bag.

His head creases. “See who? Oh you mean Dominic. No, but I think we should hide in here for a little while to make sure.” He sets his bag on the ground and sinks down. “So what’d you want to do while we wait? You want to try the
minte
.”

Secretly, I think I was hoping he’d forget about that. “Sure, I guess.”

“Don’t assume you’ll see something you fear,” Aiden says, unzipping his bag. “Or else you probably will.”

“I wasn’t assuming anything.” I sit down in front of him, crisscrossing my legs. “And I don’t fear anything.”

His eyes smile through his lashes. “That’s not true.” He pulls out a syringe, unwrapping the plastic.

“It is true,” I argue. “It’s how I’ve always been.”

He drives the needle into the vial. “You may not fear things like vampires—or even Highers—but you do have fear, Kayla. Like the fear that everyone will find out who you really are.” He extracts the clear medicine from the lid. “You ready for this?”

I blink at him. I’m still stuck on what he’s said, because it so close to the truth. “What? Yeah, I’m ready.” I stick out my arm.

But he puts his bag on his lap and gives it a pat. “You might want to lie down ... when you go under, you really go under.”

I lower my head to the bag on his lap, cross my hands over my stomach and stare up at him.

He taps the needle with his finger, then whispers, “Think of me and maybe you’ll remember what we were.”

I nod, but shove all thoughts of him out of my head. Remembering him would be easier, I’m sure. But it won’t help with getting any answers. No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to make it worth it. And that’s why, when he shoves the needle into my arm, all I hold in my mind is the bright red door.

Blood. Dripping from the walls, raining from the ceiling. I shield my head and my ears, trying to block out the screams.

“Help me.” The voice is cracked, pained, tortured. “Help me please.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Monarch says.

I open my eyes to the sound of his voice. He’s not there, but the blood has cleared away. The room is solid concrete, the only color the bright red door. Chains hang from the wall, savage and beaten. But no bodies are chained to them—not even mine.

I stand to my feet, tipsy and nauseous, clutching a little doll. I follow the sound of the help-me cries, one foot in front of the other, heading to the only place I can, a dark hall. The lights flicker with my footsteps.

“Help!” The voice begs. “Please.”

The voice leads me to door, not red, but rusted metal, scratched and dented. Even though I’m nervous, and my insides scream at me not to, I turn the doorknob. Something scurries to the side and I stop short, almost pulling back.

“No, please don’t go,” the voice says, tears laced in its tone. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

I take a deep breath and step into the room. The lights blink, but in the corner I see a small figure.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice very real inside my head.

It shakes its head, its body balled into the darkness.

“I won’t hurt you.” I bend down slowly, trying to see who the small child is. The light brightens, vanishing all the shadows around. The little child lifts up its head, the flesh peeling away, teeth missing except for two sharp fangs. “Help me.” It reaches its fingerless hand for me, then pulls back, gnawing at its own arm.

I trip back, bumping my elbow on the corner of a metal tray, sending tools flying and scattering to the ground in an earth quaking noise. The child screams and I turn to run, but Monarch appears in the door.

“Kayla, what are you doing in here?” His grey eyes are troubled, his hands stained with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” my lips speak for me, words of the past. “I thought I heard …”

He grabs me by the arm and drags me into the hall, slamming the door and locking the child away.

“You can’t just wander around like this,” he says. “You know better.”

“I’m sorry but –”

“Too many questions,” he mutters, pulling something out of the pocket of his white coat. “Always too many questions. It’s the one thing I can’t seem to fix.” He holds a syringe in his hand, filled with purple liquid. “If you keep this up, we’ll never be able to make it work.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again.

He sighs and moves the needle for my arms. “You have to forget what you saw, otherwise it’ll all be ruined.”

I nod and he pumps my body full of medicine that steals the memory away.

Blood. Blood everywhere. I drowned in it, screaming.

“Help me!”

“Help me.” My body jerks awake at the sound of my voice.

Aiden’s eyes are wide as he stares at me, trying to hold me into place. We both breathe in each other, rapid sounds that fill the air with tension.

“I’m guessing,” he says, holding up my arm, lined, again, with red scratches and dried drops of blood. “That you didn’t remember something about me.”

I slowly shake my head. “No.” My voice sounds strained.

He’s hesitant, watching me with anxious eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, I shake my head. Then I lie there, motionless, listening to the beating of his heart. It’s like a song, a beautiful song that makes me want to close my eyes and forget what I saw. Except, when my eyelids start to shut all I can see is the red door and the tiny raggedy child curled up in front of it.

“Can we go?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder, toward the outside. “Yeah, I think we’re okay. I haven’t heard or seen anything. I was probably just imaging it to begin with.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes, rubbing away the images. “How long until it gets dark?”

He stands, putting his bag across his shoulder. “I don’t know. Probably like one or two …” He trails off, eyes bugging wide. “Kayla, don’t move.”