Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) (9 page)

His heart plummeted. He gaped at the angry woman, unable to move. He wanted to curl up and shrivel into nothingness. It astonished him how she could judge him so harshly, especially considering all they’d been through.

She’s right, you know
, his self-doubt declared.
You don’t know a thing. Look deep down. Even
you
don’t know if you’re doing the right by them. Why should they?

His confidence abandoned him, just like Isabella’s council. He opened his mouth to say something in protest but only a gargling whimper came out. In his despair he yanked the door open the rest of the way and bolted out into the cold. He plunged into the woods, ignoring the pleas of those who loved him, and kicked through the knee-high mounds of snow.

After a short while his legs went out on him. He collapsed beneath the imaginary shade of a leafless maple tree. His body trembled. Snot ran from his nose.
Luanda
’s chiding remarks echoed in his head, only now they were the words of everyone he’d abandoned. He began to cry. He couldn’t stop.
 
In a way, he didn’t want to.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

Hours went by. The sun began to set, casting black dragons that breathed fire across the horizon. Snow fell again, peppering his vision with white flecks.

Josh sat with his back pressed against the tree, buried up to his waist in powder. Only his eyelids moved. A sticky miasma of sorrow and doubt held him fast. Once more, all those he had sworn to protect but couldn’t
looked
down on him in disgust. In his vision they were still alive, from his parents to Sophia to Bobby to Mrs. Flannigan and the thirty seventh graders he could have helped. The fantasy of their existence launched salvos of blame into his already remorse-filled thoughts.

You could have saved us
, they said.
Why did you let us down?

Coarse fabric grazed his cheek. He lifted his eyes. A bulbous caricature of a woman stood over him, dressed in a huge blue overcoat with a furry hood. There was a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Its color matched perfectly the tresses of hair that fanned from beneath the hood.

“Hey, Kye,” he muttered.

She didn’t smile as she watched him, but the way her lips curled up on one side and her nose wrinkled like she had to sneeze conveyed that everything was okay without saying a word. He breathed in and the cold seized his lungs. There was a frozen tear on his cheek. He tried to wipe it off. The futility of the act made him giggle. While he hovered in that emotional state, somewhere between laughter and sorrow, she straddled his buried legs and crouched in his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She pecked him on the lips, pulled back, and then moved in to kiss him fully, jabbing tongue and all. He moved with her, the heat from her mouth loosening his tightened throat and frayed nerves.

He placed a frozen hand on her cheek. Their lips parted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not what you think I am.”

“Shush, you,” she replied, kissing him on the forehead. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“But she’s right. I’m a fake.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t listen to her. You’ve seen things no one else understands. You know things we don’t.
I
trust that, even if you don’t. And
Luanda
’s just scared, like all of us. She just decided to take it out on you.”

“But why?” he said.

Kyra smiled.
“Because you’re the strong one.
You can take the pressure. If nothing else,
Luanda
understands that. She needed someone to feel her pain, and honestly, Josh, you’re all there is. I mean, who else could? Me? Colin? Emily? I don’t think so. You’re all there is, sweetie. You’re special.”

He rolled his eyes. “And I go and take off.”

“Yeah, but no one blames you. We
trust you
. Take that to heart. Don’t worry about the rest.”

Josh grinned and pressed his cheek into hers. He could almost hear her thoughts in the beat of her heart, in the thin streams of life that ran just beneath her flesh.

“Thank you,” he said.

She playfully bit his upper lip. “I love you, Joshua Benoit,” she replied. “I love you so much.”

He pulled her in close, trying to hold her tight enough that the physical barrier between them would fade from existence and make them a single entity. In that moment of pleasure, even the lingering doubt that accompanied the realization of how much he needed her waned. As the last rays of dim light vanished behind the trees, he felt a sense of clarity in what had happened.

In many ways,
Luanda
had been correct. It was time to grow up.

Chapter 5

Who Are You?

“Lady, you must hurry,” a child’s sweet voice called out. “He is coming!”

She lifted her aching head and glanced about in a panic. Blackness surrounded her. The air stunk of mold. She had no idea where she was. Fear gathered at the tip of her spine and cut her breath short. She tried to remember how she’d arrived here but couldn’t. The most frightening question in the world stabbed her brain.

Who am I?

Gradually her heart rate slowed and she could think more clearly. She knew one thing for certain – she was sprawled out on a dirt floor. This was plainly obvious due to the sand in her mouth and the pressure on her chest, not to mention the fact that when she reached her fingers out before her, searching for a handhold, loose dirt was all she brought back.

Her terror returned, but it was quelled by the touch of something soft and furry brushing against the back of her neck. It was comforting, though she couldn’t see its originator, and just like that her dread slipped away.

“Get up, Lady,” the child’s voice said. “We must go.”

She did as instructed, rising up on legs that trembled beneath her. Exhaustion attacked her body, pricking her with an endless barrage of tiny needles. The thing that touched her neck then wrapped around her hand and clutched it. She felt claws press into her wrist, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable sensation. For a moment she questioned the prudence of trusting whatever it was that spoke to her, but that doubt vanished when another sound emerged, cutting through the blackness like a scalpel. It was the shake of a baby’s toy, or perhaps the warning of a rattlesnake’s tail. It echoed all around her, and she allowed the thing that held her hand to lead her through the inky black void.

“Faster, Lady,” the voice pleaded. She swung to each side as she ran, her legs still muddy. It felt like she was being yanked along by a speedboat. She bumped against a hard surface, perhaps a wall. The rough surface flayed the skin on her bare shoulder. A yelp escaped her lips between spurts of ragged breath. She couldn’t see anything, but still the world spun.

The thud of four feet pounding into dirt changed to the pang of heels on slate to no sound at all. The bottom dropped out on her. She treaded in nothingness. The reassuring, paw-like hand let go. She plummeted, dropping through a jungle of unseen, oily vines that slapped against her face, covering her with slime. She imagined her body crumpled and broken, lying at the bottom of some rocky gulch, and screamed.

Suddenly, as if she’d been yanked to a stop by bungee chords, her descent ceased. With the wind knocked out of her, she let loose a whimper. Her mind whirled and became one with everything she could see, which was nothing at all.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

When she opened her eyes it felt like years had passed. She lay in the center of a large square room whose walls were the same color as the floor, which made it seem at first as if the space never ended. The only sign that there were tangible dimensions were the red doors, four in total, situated at the center of each wall. There was a small coffee table to her right. An old lamp and a glass of water rested atop it.

She sat up and glanced down at herself. She wore a white tank top. Its shoulder straps were caked with dried blood. A pair of jeans clung to her thighs. She wore no shoes. “Huh,” she whispered, and stood up on legs that worked much better than they had before. She approached the table. Her tongue grazed the prickly, dead skin flaking off her dry lips.

So thirsty
, she thought.

She picked the glass of water up off the table and brought it to her mouth. Cold fluid rushed down her throat when she tilted it, spilling over her chin and drenching her shirt. She didn’t care. The thirst was all that mattered. She gulped it down. The liquid plummeted into her empty stomach. Cramps followed soon after as her body cried out for more, more.

Feet shuffled behind her. She didn’t react right away, as if lost in a dream. Instead she leisurely placed the glass back on the table, wiped drops of water from her lips, and turned around.

Standing close to her was the oddest of creatures. It was no more than three feet tall, with a toddler’s body covered with white fur and the head of a cat. It walked upright on reverse-jointed legs. The eyes were emerald green orbs cut down the center with vertical black stripes.

She felt no fear at the sight of it. A sensation brewed deep within her, as if this was a memory she couldn’t quite grasp, trapped beneath an invisible membrane. She reached out for this memory, but it fell away from her.

The creature took a step forward and twitched its pink nose. Its eyes glimpsed this way and that, scanning the room. It touched her arm with its paw, looked her in the eyes, and then down at the floor.

“You want me to sit?” she asked.

The creature nodded.

“Okay.”

She sat down and crossed her legs. The cat-like creature curled into a ball across from her.

“Lady,” it said, “we are safe now.”

The sting of memory again stabbed at the back of her brain, but she still couldn’t reach it. When she tried, she only brought back a handful of emptiness.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was shaky.

“You do not remember me, Lady?” it replied. “You must be very tired. You must rest. It will help you remember.”

“Please,” she begged, “just tell me.”

The creature licked its nose and stared at her. “I am Trudy,” it said. “I am your friend.”

She tried to force her mind to work. Again she brought back nothing. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember…anything at all.”

“Oh, he is such a bad one!” the creature exclaimed. “He did this to you!”

“Huh?”

“He is making you forget. He is trying to hide you from yourself. He wants your power gone.”

She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Who are you talking about?”

Trudy uncoiled its body and approached her. Its feline mouth pressed against her ear. “Percy,” it whispered. “The Shadow Dweller. The Life Grifter. He has been chasing us forever. He hates us.”

She felt close to tears in her ignorance. “Who is he? Why’s he doing this? Why does he hate me?”

“He is afraid of what you will do to him. He is afraid you will know his name.”

“Know his…I don’t…
fuck!
” Her emotions boiled over. “
I don’t get any of this!
”

“Calm yourself, Lady. The answers will come.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
 
She tugged at her damp shirt. “I feel lost. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know my name. I’m scared.”

“I understand, Lady. But we cannot move too quickly.”

The tears did come this time. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You have to find out who you are.”

Trudy moved away from her and approached one of the red doors. Its tiny white paw twisted the knob. The door opened. Trudy motioned to her.

“Through here,” it said.

Beyond the door appeared a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was the entrance to an adjacent room. She stepped ahead, hand-in-hand with her new/old friend. She had to stifle a chuckle, for in a life she wished she could remember she was sure she’d be pinching herself awake by now.

They paused at the boundary between the corridor and the new room. She leaned forward. The space beyond the entryway was murkier than the area in which she stood, like a wall of shimmering water separated them. A scent wafted to her, burning her nose hairs and making her sneeze, as if the atmosphere beyond the barrier was composed of industrial-strength ammonia. The smell wasn’t the strangest part, though, for she swore she could see the shadow of movement slip across the liquid curtain.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Her heart was racing.

“You will see,” answered Trudy. “You must break the boundary first, and then you will understand.”

“Okay,” she muttered. She lifted her hand. Her fingers pressed into and then through the pliable meniscus. The blood in her veins ran hot. She yelped as an unseen force yanked her hand through the buffer, followed by her wrist and forearm. Panic overtook her and she tried to pull away. The portal wouldn’t allow it. It kept sucking her in, slowly.

Marcy glanced down at Trudy. The odd creature’s pupils sparkled in the eerie light as it nodded, saying
do not be afraid
without words. Marcy bit her lip and breathed in deep. She surrendered. Her body was wrenched through.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

A woman dressed in a white hospital nightgown sits upright on her bed. Her legs kick in their stirrups. A very tall man stands behind her and holds her down, gently, by the shoulders. The woman writhes. The man, whose hair is brown and wavy, won’t let her go. He grips her tight with his strong-looking hands and tells her everything will be fine. The woman looks up at him. Her pleading eyes brim over with tears.

“What about my baby?” she asks.

Doctors and nurses fill the room, concentrated mainly around a birthing cart. The baby in the glass bassinet is a girl, and she is blue. Her eyes are closed. She isn’t breathing. The only sounds to be heard are those of the adults, who articulate their displeasure at the seriousness of the baby’s condition.

The tall man leans over the woman on the bed. His voice shakes when he speaks, unveiling the falsehood of his strength.

“It’s okay, honey,” he says. “They’re doing everything they can.”

The woman starts crying. “What’s wrong with her,” she begs, “what’s wrong with my baby?”

A black specter hangs over the room, unseen by all who occupy it. It arrives like a mist, all billowing, smoky tendrils, and hovers above the bassinet. It emits strange sounds, like the whirring of a turbine, and a thin tube of darkness descends toward the silent newborn.

Without warning, a shaft of light erupts from the bassinet. The hovering cloud disperses with a high-pitched whine and collapses in on itself. It disappears into space, as if the air itself is a door that can be opened and closed at will. The sound of a baby coughing follows, and a gasp and sneeze and hoarse wailing follow that. The infant’s lungs are filled with air. The doctors and nurses who surround it explode into a chorus of cheers. The mother and father, themselves looking quite blue, stop holding their breath.

“Congratulations, Shirley,” a nurse says. She approaches the new parents holding the child, who is swathed in receiving blankets. “You have a beautiful baby girl.”

The nurse hands the child over. The mother, Shirley, nuzzles her nose into the tiny nape of her daughter’s neck. The child giggles.

“Look, Alex,” she says, gazing up at the tall man with equal amounts relief and adulation. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“She is,” replies the father. He is attractive, and he is beaming.
 
“Welcome to the world, little Stephanie.”

Shirley’s expression grows quizzical as she says, “You know, I’m not so sure about that.”

“No? But I thought we decided.”

“We did, but that’s before I got to see her, to hold her.”