Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
IRIS
The man was Archer’s father.
The leader of the cult… was Archer’s father.
For a moment, it felt like the ground had vanished beneath my feet.
It felt like I was falling. But when I turned to Archer, I realised he had it worse.
Much worse. There was no doubt in my mind that he was just as shocked as I was – even more so.
His face had gone pale, and he looked like he might be sick.
This was the man – I realised – that had left those scars on his back.
Anger boiled within me.
‘Well,’ his father spat, ‘I suppose I should be grateful you even made it this far. You were always a weak child, always crying for your mother.’ He let out a short, scornful laugh. ‘She was weak too.’
‘I don’t understand…’ Archer said. I felt his weight sag against my shoulder, as though he were barely holding himself upright. ‘You talk about her like that… but you were heartbroken when she died.’
‘No, boy,’ he replied, almost calmly. ‘I wasn’t heartbroken.’ He paused, as if considering the word. ‘I was… inconvenienced, if anything.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘If I ever seemed heartbroken, it was because of you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You were a burden.’
He ran a hand through his short blonde hair, a move so similar to Archer’s that it made my breath catch. This was the man who raised him. The man who was meant to protect him, but had instead broken him. Hurt him… in such gruesome ways.
‘My son was supposed to be strong,’ he went on, his voice rising and his expression dripping with hatred. ‘A leader. He was meant to inherit my place in the Society. But instead…’ His lip curled. ‘I was left with you.’
Suddenly, I caught a slight flicker out of the corner of my eye. A white flash – but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. My eyes scanned the trees.
Nothing.
‘In fact,’ Archer’s father went on, ‘I was finished with you the last time I saw you. I should have killed you then – saved myself the trouble. But you ran.’ His mouth twisted.
‘Just like the coward you are.’ I felt Archer tense under my touch.
‘When I heard you were in Stonewall and employed here at Ashcroft, I thought I’d have another chance.
’ He let out a low, menacing laugh. ‘Then Draven told me you’d finally grown into a man.
More than that – you were in line to join us.
’ He paused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.
‘For a moment… I was almost proud… But I should have known better,’ he said coldly.
‘You were always going to disappoint me. Just like your mother.’
‘Don’t you dare speak about my mother,’ Archer said. His voice was low and calm. It sounded terrifying. ‘The only reason I did all this is because I know you lied about her death. I wanted to find out what happened to her.’
He barked a harsh laugh. ‘Of course I lied. It was me who killed her!’
Archer flinched as if the words were a physical blow. He staggered back slightly. I looked at him and it was as if years of lies were rearranging themselves in his mind. His whole life.
I felt such anger at that moment. Anger for Archer, anger for his mother. An innocent life snuffed from existence.
‘Why?’ I asked, when Archer stayed quiet.
He shrugged, turning towards me slightly. ‘So, you must be Iris.’ He said slowly, smugly. ‘The girl who’s got my son so enraptured that he betrayed his own family…’ He looked me up and down, disgust plain on his face. ‘I must admit, I thought it would take more.’
‘You’re sick,’ I said. ‘You’re all sick.’ I looked at Archer, and my heart cracked; he was staring at the floor, processing his own father’s words about his mother’s death. ‘Why did you kill your wife?’ I asked him. If Archer couldn’t voice his questions, I would.
‘She found out too much,’ he said. ‘She started asking questions. It wouldn’t have been long until she discovered everything, and our annual event wasn’t far off… What’s that saying?’ He paused, as if thinking. ‘Oh yes, two birds with one stone.’
Archer exploded. ‘You fucking arsehole!’ he snapped.
Breaking away from me, he strode forwards, eating up the distance between him and his father in less than a second.
He raised his fist, anger flowing from him in waves, but Draven and another masked man – Sinclair?
– stepped forwards and grabbed him before he could hurt their leader.
‘No!’ I shouted, helpless as I watched them force him to his knees. ‘Get off of him!’ I yelled. ‘Stop!’
I felt a sharp, sudden pain flare across my cheekbone. I closed my eyes as its sting increased.
Rory had hit me.
I stumbled backwards and Adora caught me.
‘You can’t take us down,’ Archer’s dad was saying, a sense of enjoyment edging into his tone.
‘If you did, you’d go down with us, son.
’ He paused, his smile growing. ‘You, too, after all, are a murderer.’ He leant down in front of Archer, edging his face closer to his.
He was enjoying this. Enjoying seeing his own son in pain.
That sick fuck.
I wanted to hurt him.
‘What was her name?’ he said. ‘Isobella, wasn’t it? She was particularly pretty, that one,’ he mused.
Right at that moment, I glimpsed another shimmer of white through the trees. Squinting, I could just make out a shape… flickering and bright. He’d said her name – and now she was here.
Isobella.
She was watching the chaos from the shadows. She spotted me and our eyes met.
She looked sad, but there was something else radiating off of her…
Rage.
A pure, burning anger emanated from her in waves as her empty eyes darted around the clearing.
She drifted closer towards us, and my brow creased in confusion. She looked as though she was trying to tell me something. She had the same expression she’d had that day I saw her in the corridor.
No, she didn’t want to tell me something… she wanted to ask me something.
Her lips were moving. She was mouthing the words, ‘let me in’.
‘Let me in?’ I whispered.
‘What?’ Adora asked quietly beside me.
I shook my head. She took my hand in hers, and a second later she gasped.
I knew that she was seeing Isobella for the first time.
Let me in, she mouthed again.
And then I realised…
She wanted me to let her in… to me.
I blinked, and memories came rushing back, flooding through me. Me, seven years old on a dirty bathroom floor, seeing my first ghost. All the times over the years when I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, because I truly believed ignorance was bliss and denial was safety.
No more.
If I could use my ability for good, then so be it.
She wanted to come in the same way she’d gone into Adora – though this time I was willing and ready.
‘Come in,’ I whispered.
My body was on fire. Every nerve ending was burning up…
I thought I was going to die.
I could feel Isobella inside me. I was splitting apart, tearing into two, as if making room for her spirit. Her heart. Her lungs. She consumed me. She had access to my whole body, my memories, my everything.
Glimmers of her life flashed before my eyes.
Thousands of scenes, moving so fast I couldn’t keep up.
I was looking through her eyes. I could see her at her fifth birthday party, opening a present, laughing with her friends as her parents looked on proudly.
I could feel the joy she felt… Then it was Christmas the following year, surrounded by family. It was warm. Loved. Perfect.
Then… sadness. She was fourteen and I could feel how she felt when her parents died.
Then I could see her reflection in a mirror, dressed in a beautiful black dress at their funeral.
Then I saw her first day at Ashcroft. I saw Archer. I gripped onto Adora’s arm to steady myself as I began to sway.
‘Iris?’ she said, concern lacing her words.
‘I’m okay,’ I said… but it wasn’t me who said it.
We were merging, me and Isobella. I became her. I was giving her a physical foothold on our side, even if it was just fleeting.
Before, when she’d done this to Adora, Adora hadn’t been ready or known what was happening. I, however, embraced her – her physical strength – and could feel it mingling with mine.
Suddenly, a thought hit me, but it wasn’t mine. It was more like a message being pushed into me. I played it out in my mind, watching those arseholes hold Archer down, hit his face, keep him from me… as his father raised a hand to him.
‘Do it,’ I said.
Without hesitation, Isobella moved.
I could feel her thoughts swirling around, entwining with my own. She had a physical body for the first time in a year, and she was going to make the most of it.
She was going to make these fuckers pay for what they did to her.
First, she jumped off the altar and picked up a nearby tree branch. It was thick and long. She flicked it up and caught it again in her – my – palm.
Fuck, I felt strong.
Then, it felt like I was flying. We were running, but I wasn’t in control of anything.
We launched towards Archer’s father before he could land a blow on his son.
He smacked down off the altar and onto the forest floor.
The sound of his back hitting the dirt echoed through the resuming chaos.
Isobella jumped down off the altar and prowled towards him.
Someone came up behind us, and she threw her elbow out forcefully.
I heard a crack, a muffled moan, then the sound of a body dropping.
Archer’s father struggled to his feet as we approached, the smirk finally fading from his face when his eyes met ours. He began to step backwards, before realising how close he was to the cliff edge and thinking better of it.
Slowly, Isobella stalked closer. Closer.
Then, with sickening speed, she embedded the tree branch into his stomach, before he could even flinch – right the way through.
She let out a satisfied huff as the bark emerged out of the other side of his torso, mingling with his blood, and his eyes widened.
She yanked it out of him with brutal force, leaving a bloody hole behind. She pushed him backwards with our combined strength, and he stumbled. Then she did it again, and he stumbled further and further. He didn’t stand a chance against her. Against us.
A few shouts followed us, but we didn’t care.
We approached the cliff edge, the raging sea far below, and Isobella sent a harsh kick to his torso, sending his still conscious body off the edge with a final sigh.
‘Get fucked, you psycho,’ she said.