Waysider (The Voyants Book 1)

Chapter 23

Cass was frozen in terror.

She couldn’t budge, even as a voice screamed in her head that she needed to move or she would fucking die. Move, move, move!

But Cass’s limbs were locked into place, terror roaring through her entire body like a tsunami, and all she could do was watch as the revenant closed the space between them. Those long, black legs scrabbled against the floor and Cass could hear the other voyants shouting around her. Someone said her name. She just stared into the creature’s red eyes, a scream building in her throat. Cass braced herself for—

At the last possible moment, someone stepped in front of her.

Cass lost her balance and fell back, only dimly aware as pain shot through her elbows. Her paracaus hit the floor nearby. Cass instinctively started crawling backward just as the creature came bearing down on them, releasing an ear-splitting screech. Her rescuer moved, and in an instant, the revenant disintegrated. Cass breathed hard as her focus shifted to the figure standing over her.

It was Webster. The Shadowripper glanced back at Cass, coolly noting whether she’d been hurt. Then she spun her blade in a fluid, fearless flick of the wrist and faced the room again, probably searching for any sign that the monstrous revenant had returned.

“Find out what it’s attached to,” Sinister instructed, making Cass jump. His voice came from behind. She turned to find his hand beside her. She took it, allowing him to help her up, then quickly let go. Sinister searched her face before his dark eyes moved down the rest of her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Are you all right?”

Cass moved to retrieve her paracaus blade from the floor. She was definitely not all right, but if she went back to the van, Sinister would be forced to go with her. She couldn’t weaken the team like that. Cass swallowed down a rush of queasiness, and her grip tightened around the hilt of the blade. It was still on, thrumming gently against her palm, but Cass didn’t turn it off.

“Fine,” she lied. “It didn’t touch me.”

Hoping for a distraction, she looked around to see what the others were doing. They’d already spread out, and Cass could tell they were following the direction of the threads. She started doing the same, because she couldn’t keep standing there like some damsel in distress. As she focused on a particularly thick strand, Cass sensed Sinister nearby. His calm presence persisted as she crept forward.

Silence spread over the room like a layer of dust, and every subtle sound made Cass tense. Her eyes kept darting around, expecting the revenant to materialize. But the creature stayed away. Maybe it had been injured by Webster’s blade, or it was just waiting for an opportunity. Cass realized she should’ve asked more questions outside. It felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end of a pool and everyone had just assumed she could swim.

Fixating on the tethers helped, though.

Cass found it in less than a minute—a tiny object on the mantle, practically buried by all the phantom strings surrounding it. She halted, feeling that same tug she’d experienced in class. Her fingers itched to pluck and pull at those dark threads. As they kept floating and shifting, Cass caught a glimpse of the item hiding in the center like a heart.

The revenant was attached to a wedding ring.

Cass forced herself to pick it up and carry it across the room. She expected to feel something, a slight tickle or a startling zap, maybe, but all she noticed was the coolness of the ring. She reached Wolfgang and held her hand out to him, saying, “Pennyseeker, right?”

His gaze dropped to the small object nestled in her palm. Using his thumb and index finger, Wolfgang took it with surprising dexterity for someone his size. He didn’t question her, and Cass figured he could probably see how the threads were thicker on the ring. Sinister made a gesture, and the team formed a loose circle around the Pennyseeker, keeping their backs to him as they raised their weapons. Cass stood between Sinister and Webster, trying not to let her paracaus shake.

Chad’s foot tapped restlessly. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered.

Frenchie shot him an annoyed look. “Rushing him won’t help. It’s a complex process.”

“I know that,” Chad snapped back.

“Quiet,” Sinister commanded. His voice was cold with warning, and everyone obeyed instantly.

As they fell silent, the dark crowded in close again. Cass’s breathing felt loud. Her eyes bounced from shadow to shadow like a pinball machine, and her fist started sweating around the hilt of her blade. Nothing moved. But Cass knew it was still here—she could feel it.

Cass heard Frenchie’s alarmed, “Mon dieu!” a moment before she saw it.

The revenant’s fangs flashed as its jaws opened wide. Cass screamed and thrust the paracaus instinctively, but Webster and Sinister moved in perfect tandem, slicing and stabbing before the monster could get to her. Blue bursts of light filled Cass’s wide, shocked eyes. Then her vision was blocked by Chad.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he muttered, his eyes darting around guiltily. It was obvious, even to Cass, that he was desperate to get out of there. He wasn’t offering to help her out of the goodness of his heart.

Before Cass could move, one of the monster’s legs moved in a blur, and Chad went flying across the room. He hit the far wall with a terrible smacking sound, then crumpled.

Sinister shouted and charged again. In an instant, Cass saw that he was an even better fighter than Webster—he dodged and evaded the revenant’s jabs, displaying grace and speed that didn’t seem human. Webster, Frenchie, Wolfgang, and Camila ran forward too, striking the creature with their electrified weapons. Cass heard its flesh zap and sizzle. She started moving toward the door, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. Her terror was so visceral that she could almost taste it. A distant part of Cass wondered if she should try to help Chad. Then she thought, Fuck Chad.

Cass was halfway to the door when someone shouted. There was real terror in the sound, and she paused, glancing over her shoulder. Camila was dragging Wolfgang’s limp body backward, and the others were scattered like dead leaves across the floor, as if the revenant had dealt them all a single, unexpected blow. The creature searched the room again, those red eyes even brighter, somehow. As if fighting the voyants had strengthened this thing, rather than weakened it.

Its gaze landed on Cass again. Panic seared through her, and the two of them moved at the same time. She dove out of the way, adrenaline roaring in her ears, and time seemed to slow. Cass felt the scrape of bristles against her lower back as she fell. Then she hit the floor and went rolling. Cass heard the paracaus clatter nearby an instant before she slammed into a chair. Pain ricocheted through her.

There was no time to care. The revenant was already coming for her again, letting out another one of those unearthly shrieks that hurt Cass’s ears as she scrabbled for her paracaus blade. At the last possible second, the revenant leaped. Cass rolled again, barely managing to avoid its jabbing legs. The creature struck the paracaus blade instead, and Cass heard it skitter away. As she hit the wall with a second painful jolt, a terrified sob rose in her throat. Cass pushed herself up to face the revenant, weaponless.

Michael’s eyes met hers.

For a breathless instant, time didn’t just slow—it stopped completely. He knelt on the other side of the room, right where her paracaus blade had ended up. Then he pushed it at her and whispered, “Fight, Cassandra. Fight.”

Her fear hardened into determination. Cass nodded at Michael, her fingers curling around the hilt. She held it in a firm grip and stood. Michael disappeared at the exact moment she straightened, and the revenant exploded through the air he’d just vacated. Screaming, Cass swung the paracaus so hard that pain exploded through her shoulder.

This time, the revenant didn’t just vanish. The tethers around it dissipated first, and then the enormous, spider-like creature unraveled in a bloody eruption. A black substance splattered over the floors and walls like tar. Then, silence.

It had all happened in a matter of seconds.

Cass’s chest heaved, and she found herself staring at empty air. Someone said her name again. Cass recognized Sinister’s voice, but she couldn’t respond. The queasiness had returned in a rush. She fought it, leaning down to brace her hands on her knees. She would not throw up in front of these people—she’d seen her teammates from the corner of her eye, but there was no chance to feel relieved that everyone was okay. Cass squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through her nose. In and out. In and out. Her stomach quivered. Thank god none of that black shit had stuck to her, Cass thought.

Big mistake.

She jerked her head up and vomited all over the floor.

No one made a sound. Cass resisted the urge to spit out the bitter taste in her mouth. She’d humiliated herself enough for one night. She pressed the back of her sleeve against the lower half of her face and breathed deeply through her nose again.

“Let’s move out,” Sinister ordered, speaking over Cass’s head. “Stay on your guard. There could still be some residual energy in the house.”

Footsteps made the floor creak. Cass swayed there for another moment, and she made sure her stomach had calmed before she dared to stand upright again. Sinister waited at her side. He didn’t reach for her, but Cass got the sense that if another wave of dizziness hit her, he’d be ready.

She followed Webster and Frenchie to the door, noting that there was no sign of Chad, Wolfgang, or Camila. Sinister brought up the rear, just like he had at the start of the night. Cass could feel every part of her body that had slammed into walls and furniture during the fight, which must’ve meant the adrenaline was wearing off. It also meant the revenant was truly gone, Cass thought. She had no way of knowing for certain, since the See could’ve just worn off or the revenant was taking another breather. But somehow, she knew she was right. She would’ve known if it was still there.

They emerged into the hallway. Cass’s eyes immediately went to the figures sitting on the floor. Wolfgang and Camila were a few yards down the hall, where she must’ve dragged him after he got hurt. The Pennyseeker leaned against the wall, holding the ring in his hands. The threads around it had vanished. Now it was just a ring. Cass slowed, staring at it. She realized that Wolfgang must’ve untethered the revenant right when she’d struck it with her paracaus blade.

But for an instant, just an instant, Cass had really thought she’d been the one to kill it.

Frenchie and Camila helped the large boy to his feet. He grumbled at them, but he accepted their help—he must’ve hit the wall pretty hard. They all left the house together, seven shadows slanting over the floors.

Outside, Chad was hovering by the van. He spoke the instant the group was within earshot, words leaving him in a frantic stream. “Oh, man, that was insane. Glad everyone made it out okay. Wolfgang, you took a hit, man. How are you feeling? Did you guys—”

“Hey,’’ Cass cut in. Her head was pounding, and the sound of Chad’s voice was like a car alarm or a dog that wouldn’t stop barking. He looked at her and she said, “You know that thing you do where you open your mouth and sounds come out?”

Chad frowned. “You mean… talking?”

“Yeah, that. Stop it.”

Frenchie snickered. Cass walked past Chad, not bothering to watch his reaction. She climbed into the van and settled into the spot she’d been in before. The others moved to do the same, but this time, Sinister didn’t sit up front with Webster. He slid in beside Cass, sitting so close that she felt his hip brush hers as he turned to put on his seatbelt. When he faced her again, his eyes flicked down. Cass followed his gaze and saw that she was still holding the paracaus blade. Probably should give it back to him, she thought.

But Cass didn’t lift the blade. She just stared at it and enjoyed its weight, thinking about how she’d been able to cut that revenant. To hurt it. An unearthly shriek of pain echoed in Cass’s ears, and she felt something inside her stir at the memory.

Sinister’s hand appeared in her line of vision. His long, elegant fingers closed around Cass’s, tightening her grip on the weapon. He let go within the space of a breath. “I’m pretty sure it was made for you,” Sinister murmured.

Cass looked out the window to hide her expression.

Seconds later, the van coughed and rattled its way back down the winding driveway. Cyndi Lauper’s voice filled the air, blending with Frenchie’s low murmur as he spoke to Wolfgang. Cass kept waiting for someone to talk about the Haunting, and all the shit that just went down in the house shrinking behind them, but it didn’t come up. The others acted like the terrifying night they’d just had was normal. Like it happened all the time. Cass stared out the window and tried to imagine it—a life like this. An existence that included battling monsters on a regular basis. Of looking death in the face, again and again, and saying fuck you.

It was the feeling she’d been looking for that night she’d climbed onto one of the roofs at her old school. As if Cass were the most awake she’d ever been, and utterly fearless. All of her problems ceased to exist because nothing else mattered except the defiance pumping through her veins. The sense that she was completely in control, when the rest of the time Cass felt like she had none.

“Are you okay?”

Sinister’s voice was low, attempting to ask the question privately. Cass turned from the window and met his gaze. For once, she didn’t need to think about what to say. Cass could feel the truth blazing through her exhausted, bruised body.

“I’ve never felt more fucking alive,” she told Sinister.

Cass expected him to smile or agree with her. But he just looked at her quietly, moonlight racing across his angular features. Cass’s mood dimmed with uncertainty. She looked away again, and neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive.

It felt like less than a minute had passed when a familiar archway appeared. Else Bellows loomed on their left, streetlights shining on the paths like guardians. The moment she laid eyes on it, Cass felt an odd surge of relief. This place hadn’t been any safer than the rest of the world, and yet, it still felt as if she were arriving somewhere protected and familiar. The van pulled up to Old Main and squealed to a halt.

Webster stayed where she was as they all piled out. Chad left without saying a word to anyone, hurrying down the sidewalk with his shoulders hunched. The others gathered on the sidewalk and spoke in low voices. While they were all distracted, Cass paused by the driver’s window and gave Webster a tight smile. “Thanks for saving my ass back there. I owe you one,” she said.

Silence met her, and somehow, Cass wasn’t surprised. But she’d just started to turn away when Webster blurted, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Cass paused, frowning. “What?”

Webster held the steering wheel tightly and kept her eyes on the windshield, as if she were afraid to look at Cass. The realization struck her like the zap of a paracaus blade. It seemed impossible that the Shadowripper would be afraid of anything after Cass had witnessed how she fought.

Webster still didn’t look at Cass as she muttered, “You said you owe me, right? I’d consider us even if you kept what you saw to yourself.”

What you saw. Her words made that moment flash in Cass’s mind again—Victoria and Webster breaking apart, identical looks of horror on their faces. Cass blinked it back and looked at Webster’s profile. The other girl’s shoulders were stiff, her grip on the wheel white-knuckled. She wasn’t just afraid, Cass realized.

Webster was terrified.

“It’s none of my business,” Cass said firmly, hiding a flash of compassion. “No one is going to hear anything from me.”

At this, the Shadowripper finally glanced at her. Cass didn’t see any warmth in her expression, but she thought there might be less worry in her eyes. “Thanks,” Webster replied.

Cass nodded. She started to leave again, but she hesitated. Cass raised her gaze back to Webster, and her voice was barely audible as she said, “You should be honest with Sinister, though. He seems like a good guy. He deserves to know the truth.”

Webster sat there for a few seconds. Cass couldn’t tell if she was pissed or surprised. Webster’s voice was bland as ever when she finally spoke again. “He is a good guy. You’re right about that,” she agreed.

Without waiting for Cass’s response, Webster shifted gears and pressed on the gas. The van rumbled away, and Cass watched the red taillights shrink. She silently replayed their conversation, wondering if she’d handled it right. She and Sinister weren’t friends, exactly, but if the roles were reversed, Cass would want to know the truth.

Camila broke away from the rest of the group and walked over to where she stood. There was a rueful twist to her rosebud lips. “I suppose after this, you will hate them even more. But I swear to you, they’re not all bad, Cass,” she said.

Cass knew she meant the revenants. Just as she was about to make a vague, noncommittal sound, she thought of Michael and how he’d pushed the blade into her hand. She needed to thank him, Cass thought. “Maybe not,” she replied.

Surprise flickered in Camila’s dark eyes. But before she could say anything, a smaller figure appeared at Cass’s other side. Frenchie grinned at her and declared, “We’ve just narrowly escaped death’s cold embrace. It makes one want to seize the day, don’t you think?”

Camila muffled a sound and turned around, leaving without another word. Cass couldn’t help smiling, either. There was no mockery in it—only warmth. Something about the freckled voyant set her at ease in a way few people could.

“Good night, Frenchie,” Cass said. The rejection was gentle, but undeniable. Thankfully, he seemed unfazed.

“Au revoir, beautiful Cass,”the Timekeeper bid with a casual, graceful bow. Then he turned, hands shoved in his pockets, and walked away whistling. Wolfgang caught up to him effortlessly, and a moment later Cass heard Frenchie say, “I don’t need your protection, you big oaf.”

As their voices floated through the night, Sinister appeared beside her. Cass turned so he could see her mouth. “Why do you call him Frenchie?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Because he’s French.”

“Wow. Super original.” Cass smiled to show she was joking.

Sinister didn’t smile back. “We’re not here to be original. We’re here to stay alive,” he said.

Cass reminded herself that she didn’t know him that well, but something in his voice made her feel a prick of anxiety. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“The revenant at the house. How it went after you like it did.” Sinister’s mouth pursed, and he shook his head. The gestures of his hands became urgent. “I’ve never seen that.”

“Yeah, they really do seem to hate me on sight, huh?” Cass said, swallowing. Her mind flashed with all the strange, horrifying things she’d seen. Was it not like that for Sinister and the others? But what could she even do about it?

Cass expected to feel a rush of fear, but her hand tightened around the hilt of the paracaus blade, reminding her once again that she was still holding it. The plan hadn’t changed, Cass told herself. She needed to hone her new abilities and learn how to handle the revenants. She’d just keep going to her classes.

Cass wordlessly handed the paracaus blade to Sinister, knowing there was no way she’d be allowed to take it with her. “Well, I would say this has been fun, but I’d be lying. See you in class, Sinister.”

“I can walk with—” he started.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Webster is waiting up for you. Good night.” Cass gave Sinister a quick, parting smile and set off down the path that would take her home. She didn’t look back.

Once Cass was out of sight, she ran the rest of the way. Her body protested with every movement, but some of her new bravery had faded. Cass didn’t want to be alone on campus any longer than necessary.

House Wayside was dark and still, all of its occupants asleep. Cass crept up the stairs, instinctively noting which ones creaked just in case she needed to sneak in again. Old habits died hard.

When Cass opened the door to her room, Cal was back. She knew that meant she wouldn’t be seeing Michael anytime soon. She’d have to thank him the next time Cal left. Her brother seemed normal enough—he asked how her night had gone, and he sat in her desk chair, his posture loose and casual—but Cass’s instincts whispered as she got ready for bed. Lying. He’s lying.

All she wanted to do was ask where he’d been. Why he hadn’t come earlier tonight. He must’ve felt her fear when that revenant was coming at her.

Cass didn’t confront him, though. She kept her face turned away as she talked about the Haunting, her tone matching Cal’s. Casual. Normal.

And when he asked if she was okay, Cass lied to him, too. Everything was fine. Everything was great. She knew he didn’t believe her, just like she never believed him. But the truth was more terrifying than the widening space between them.

So they lied, and lied, and lied.