Chapter 25
Iris
On instinct, I swipe a dagger and flick it at his head. Cain’s form ripples and it flies right through him. A relieved chuckle bubbles up my throat. He’s a fucking ghost.
“What the hell is happening?” Emily shrieks.
I can’t answer her because Cain’s spirit rushes at us, clearly not realizing he’s dead yet.
Believe it or not, I now have tiny packets of salt on me at all times.
So, I take one out of the back pocket of my pants, rip it open with my teeth, and throw the salt in the air at him.
His eyes bulge out of his head when static takes over.
There’s a bright light, followed by a pop as he disappears.
I hope you never find peace, motherfucker, I tell him in my mind.
“What the? Was that salt?” Emily inquires.
“Yeah.”
She throws me a suspicious sidelong glance. “Um, why’d you do all that?”
“It’s a long story,” I mumble. “Basically, I can see ghosts. And Cain suddenly appeared in front of us. I didn’t realize he was a spirit at first because it’s pretty new—the seeing ghosts.
Hence me throwing the dagger at him. And yeah, now I have to keep salt on me at all times because spirits are kinda crazy. ”
“Well, that’s um…I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Trust me, I’ve been there more times than I would like to admit,” I agree.
The elevator finally stops to a screeching halt that jostles our balance. Grunting, I support both of our weights so we don’t topple over. Now that the adrenaline crash is starting to settle in, my body feels like one giant bruise.
“How are you feeling? Are you cold?” I ask while shuffling out with Emily attached to me. Dusty, cold air and the musty smell of mildew enhance the creepiness of the narrow corridor in front of us.
“Wolf shifters have a higher body temperature. Besides, whatever the fuck that piece of shit injected me with made my insides burn, so the air in here actually feels nice. Aside from the fetid smell.” She gags. “What the fuck died in here?”
We get our answer when a multitude of rats and roaches scurry to get out of our way, their clicking reverberating in the vast space.
We shudder at the same time. “I hate rats. But I despise roaches,” I mutter as I take in the fist-size insects scampering on the grimy walls.
I can’t wait to get out of this fucking tunnel.
We continue hobbling through the pitch-black darkness. My phone’s flashlight doesn’t provide much light, but at least we can see in front of our feet. The only sounds are the click, click, clicks, our heavy breaths, and the occasional splash as we trek through portions with puddles.
Emily breaks the strained silence after about fifteen minutes. “Why did you save me?”
I shrug and instantly regret it because of the white-hot stab in my shoulder.
Tearing a hole in my cheek, I ponder my answer, then finally say, “Because you’re innocent, and you didn’t deserve what that bastard did to you.
I don’t give a flying fuck that you’re a dark creature.
” I let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’m ashamed to admit that if I had been faced with the same decision three months ago—before my life started to go downhill—I’m not sure I would have given you a hand.
But too many things have happened, and now I see the world in various shades of gray. ”
“Well, thank you for saving me.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I murmur. “It’s my fault this happened to you.”
“No, Iris. This is most definitely not your fault. You have to get that out of your head. You just defended yourself at Sin. It’s pretty clear what that scum’s intentions were when he spiked your water.
” She wheezes a breath. “Because the moment you give men power, they will take advantage of it and use it for their own benefit. And tell people that a god blessed their blood, and it will get to their heads. They will justify every atrocity as bringing down the divine hammer on so-called lesser beings.”
Her hollow laugh morphs into a grunt, but she continues anyway, “If it’s not the color of your skin making you inferior, then it’s your blood. Lightborn are supposed to be the good guys, right? Where’s the light in what they did to me?” she spits out the words like they’re venomous.
They bulldoze through those cracks in my already shattered beliefs.
While I can’t fully comprehend Emily’s life experience from my privileged position, how many times have I bitten my tongue against being called a dirty half-blood either to my face or behind my back?
Too many to count. I always thought that if I trained enough, if I gave a little more each day, then surely everyone at the compound would look at me in a different light.
That I could at least gain their respect if I became one of the best hellseekers in the Order.
Well, that didn’t happen. Ultimately, all lightborn will ever see me as is a half-measure, a freak…
just different. And now, after everything that’s happened, I have to ask myself: do I even want to be one of them anymore?
It’s surprising how easily I find the answer within me.
I no longer want to take part in an organization that not only lies but also uses its power to hurt the innocent.
In the silence stretching between us, I’m waiting for that debilitating guilt to take over—to fold my lungs in two and suffocate me because I have killed another lightborn. Which is beyond crazy. But strangely, I feel numb this time.
We’ve been in the tunnel for about an hour.
Or possibly more; I can’t tell for sure.
It feels like days, because Emily’s weight presses heavily on my side.
Even with hellseeker strength, my muscles are screaming while fatigue seeps deep into my bones.
She’s burning up, so at least I can’t even feel the chill in the air anymore.
“I don’t think I can go on,” Emily lets out in a strained whisper. Her knees buckle.
I halt and pull her closer to my side, stopping us from face-planting. My fingers brush momentarily over a cockroach as I use the wall for support. At this point, I’m so tired I don’t even care. Emily disentangles herself from me to slouch on the wall. She slides into a crouch.
“The end of the tunnel shouldn’t be too far,” I say to encourage her, but her beautiful face, normally the color of rich amber, is ashen.
I chance a look at the black, spindly branches that spread from the gunshot wound to her chest. Fuck.
They weren’t as dispersed twenty minutes ago when I last checked.
This can only mean one thing: the aconite is festering deeper into her bloodstream.
If the paleness of her features doesn’t give it away, her glazed eyes and the sweat covering every inch of her body sure do.
Emily sways to the side before closing her eyes.
“I just want to sleep. I’m so tired,” she whines.
“Tell my brother Logan I love him. And—and tell him to let Hailey know I love her too. I never got the chance to say it…I wanted to make it special, you know? Take her to a nice restaurant, buy her a big bouquet of lilies, that sort of thing.”
Fuck that. I drop to my haunches and slap her cheek. Hard.
Her eyes snap open, throwing daggers at me through the hazy fog. “What the fuck?” she screeches.
“I’m not letting you die on my watch, dammit!
You’re never going to wake up if you fall asleep.
C’mon, we’re going to power through this, and you can tell Logan and Hailey you love them yourself.
” I pull her from the wall back to my side and hurry our steps, even if Emily calls me a ruthless bitch more times than I can count.
Shortly after, my phone battery dies and we’re plunged into darkness, but I’ve never been one to let a little darkness stop me.
Soon enough, though, a dim orange glow seems to take shape in the distance.
I don’t know if I’m seeing things or if it really is the end of the tunnel until the tiny fleck of light takes the shape of a circle, getting bigger as we approach it.
“Fucking finally,” I mutter.
A wrought-iron gate comes into view at the end of the tunnel, with a staircase visible through its bars. A few more minutes and we are standing in front of it. I wrap my fingers around one bar to pull at it. It doesn’t budge, so I take two steps backward before I throw my leg in a powerful kick.
Nothing happens.
“Let me try something,” Emily says, a pained groan slipping through her lips as fur pierces the skin on her pointer finger, which now has a long, sharp claw instead of a nail.
She lodges the claw into the keyhole, turns it.
A click breaks through the silence, followed by a rusty screech when the gate opens slightly.
I grin at her. “Nice trick. Do you do parties?”
“You can’t afford me.” She smiles, but it’s more of a grimace. “I don’t have the strength to shift it back.”
We climb the stairs, or better said, I ascend while hauling Emily after me like a sack of potatoes.
She’s not out of it completely, but she’s close to passing out.
If it weren’t for the hope that we are so close to getting out, I would collapse.
However, I keep repeating in my head: just a little more.
We probably resemble two girls who had too much to drink at a wild Halloween party.
If only the blood and the gunshot wounds were fake.
I almost burst into relieved tears when we reach the top of the never-ending stairs.
I cram as much air as I can into my lungs.
It isn’t fresh, but it’s much better than the musty draft in the tunnel.
Once the dizzy spell subsides, I cast a glance over the space we’re in.
Thick cobwebs hang from the marble angel statue on my right.
A dusty bench sits in the middle of the floor with tombs sealed into the grimy marble walls on its sides, illuminated by the orange streaks of light that shine through the small window on the wooden door on my left.
It’s pretty obvious no one has been here in a very long time. I think we’re in a crypt.
There’s a weird pang right below my breastbone—like a tug. I’m unsure how to explain it otherwise, but something deep within me feels Kaiden’s presence. Cain must have smacked my head real good.
As I’m about to drag Emily toward the exit, a muffled, angry voice travels through the wooden door. “I’m fucking going in, Kaiden. I can’t wait anymore.”
It’s Logan.
“Let’s give them a few more minutes. We don’t even know which crypt it is.”
My hellseeker hearing must have picked up their voices, and my addled brain couldn’t compute it yet. Surely, that’s what that weird sensation was.
“I don’t give a fuck! I’ll search each one if I have to. Emily is hurt. I can feel it. It’s a twin thing. They should have been here by now,” Logan huffs.
“Just let him do it. He’s like a dog with a bone,” Malik replies, amused.
“Shut the fuck up, Malik!” Logan snaps at him.
“Seriously? This is not the time for jokes, Malik,” a feminine voice intervenes—Ava, I think.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” Malik sounds sheepish now.
“Do you hear that? We made it,” I tell Emily. She doesn’t reply because, in the next second, she’s out cold. Not ready to withstand her entire weight, my knees buckle. “Logan!” I scream.
Logan barrels through the door, throwing it off its hinges. Angry, fiery amber eyes immediately find Emily. When he takes in her injuries, he bellows, “I’m going to fucking kill them!” He stabilizes me, then bends to take Emily in his arms protectively.
Her eyes crack open a smidge. A lone tear teeters on her eyelashes before it rolls down her cheek. “I never thought I would be so happy to see your dumb face, little bro,” she whispers.
Logan smiles softly at her. “We’re twins, Em. We kinda share the same face.”
“I don’t care, your face is still du—” She loses consciousness again.
Fuck.
Her chest is not moving.
“Malik!” Logan roars, voice drenched in panic as he flies outside.