Chapter 10
The silence of the walk to Lowell’s office is deafening, and all I can hear over my steps is my pounding heart.
This may break me.
Lowell’s office is spacious and sterile in appearance and odor—almost uncomfortably so—the opposite of what it was earlier.
Nothing about his office is inviting right now, and my instincts scream at me to run.
However, the tall walls are all-consuming, stretching on for miles and leading nowhere.
The darkness is nearly blinding, taking away my focused vision, emotions, and the sounds around me.
The silence is eerie as Talon leads me to a single chair, dead center in the room.
The metal chair is cold and unpadded, and its placement makes it feel isolated, especially since I’m in Lowell’s office with only him and Talon.
Next to the chair is a metal table holding a single syringe that will be used to administer the drug that relaxes my body, making it easier for him to extract what he wants from me.
My footsteps echo as Talon keeps his gaze fixed forward.
The overhead chandelier turns on, casting an eerie light around the room, and a shiver runs up my spine.
Anxiety pools in my stomach, knowing there is only one entrance and one exit. Talon keeps his hand around my bicep, and as badly as I want to rip myself from his grip, I let him lead me. Lowell stands near the chair, smiling as we approach.
“Why aren’t we doing this upstairs?” I ask.
Lowell studies me. “I thought you may want privacy.”
I’ve been in this office countless times since my initial assessment, but never for this reason.
Lowell would never conduct such things privately.
It goes against the closeness of the Order—except we are anything but that.
I steady my pounding heart and try to push all my thoughts to the back of my mind, even though Lowell will claw his way to them in a moment.
Talon assists me in sitting in the chair. The hard, cold metal seeps into my bones, and another shiver jolts my system. Lowell continues to smile as he watches my unease. The syringe next to me occupies my thoughts, and I study the long needle, knowing it will soon be placed into my body.
Lowell signals to Talon, and I watch my old friend pick up the needle, ensuring there is enough medicine to administer the proper dose of numbing agent. His eyes gaze into mine, and a look of dread washes over him as he hands the readied syringe to Lowell.
“Are you ready, Mara?” Lowell whispers.
“If I say no?” I respond.
He sighs. “You know that’s not an option.”
A tear forms in my bottom lid, but I grind my teeth instead of letting it fall. I settle back into the cold chair and close my eyes. Anticipation nearly drowns me, causing me to gasp for air against the crashing waves.
“Do it,” I whisper.
“You know what will happen. Once the medicine has taken effect, your body will become immobilized, allowing your mind to do all the work. It will also help regulate your heart rate, ensuring your body is not under too much stress. I will then enter your mind and ask you questions. I need to see just how much the Grim is willing to show himself to you,” Lowell says. “I will administer the drugs.”
Relax.
“Just sit back.”
I allow myself to travel somewhere far away.
For a moment, I’m back in the golden wheat field.
The warm breeze moves my hair, the tranquility of the area fills my soul with peace, and the distant birdsong calms my raging heart.
I run my fingers along the tops of the soft grains and walk through the clearing.
The hot sun shines on my wings, and I tilt my head back, letting the rays illuminate my aching body.
“This isn’t real, Lowell,” I mutter. “He won’t come.”
I hear a wicked laugh fade into the distance. “I thought about that.”
With my eyes closed, the sunlight banishes the darkness save for one small dot, darker than night, soaring high in the sky above.
I focus through the glow of the sun as I feel the sting of the needle piercing the skin of my temple.
A cry escapes my lips, and I feel two hands pressing me against the back of the chair, along with a long, sharp claw that replaces the needle.
As an Elder, Lowell can shift into something darker —something wicked that leaves fear in his wake—which is his favorite party trick.
Seconds pass, and I sense Lowell entering my mind like a deadly vine devouring the sturdiest tree. As the drug begins to take effect, I feel myself slipping down a long, dark tunnel of my own mind.
A calmness stronger than usual settles in my bones, and my entire body relaxes as my breath steadies. The peaceful field of gold comes back into view, further relaxing me, and I ready myself for what’s coming.
I can do this.
Through the trance, I hear Lowell’s voice. “I will ask you a series of questions to ensure the medicine has settled in, and then we will begin.
“Al…right,” the sluggish words come out.
“Show me the Grim, Mara.”
I nod and feel as though I have opened my eyes, still in the depths of my mind, but no longer alone. I know Lowell is with me, though I can barely feel his hands on both sides of my temples.
I ignore his touch and return to my memory.
I’m still in the golden field. I stand frozen in the middle of the clearing, afraid to move.
The breeze has stopped; the air now carries a bite, but the dark spot above remains.
The colors are no longer vibrant, and I move my arm, testing the effects of the drugs.
I feel lethargic, like I’m moving through mud.
“Where are you right now, Mara?” Lowell’s voice echoes around my mind.
I swallow. “I’m in your office.”
“No, here. Where are you?” he asks again.
I turn in all directions, and my body remains calm even though I feel panicked. “I’m in a field outside of the city.”
“Thank you,” he responds. “Why are you here?”
“Because,” I say, and I attempt to lie, but can’t. “I feel at peace here.”
“Do you feel at peace often?” Lowell’s voice taunts.
I hesitate to respond. “…No.”
Lowell’s voice rattles my mind. “Very well. Mara, I want you to imagine your greatest fear right now.”
Even in my mind, I can’t help but stumble backward. I don’t respond to him. Instead, I fight to ignore his command. I curl my fists, my nails digging into my palms, and I feel my skin rip as the pressure builds. He knows this, and he’s choosing those words to spark exactly what he wants.
“Mara,” Lowell repeats.
I feel myself slipping; the command is too much to ignore with the drugs running through my veins. This isn’t anything I want to show another person, let alone Lowell. And yet again, everything about today has been a test to throw me off, and I fear this one will be my undoing.
I turn my head to the sky, feeling an overwhelming urge to imagine what he’s asked.
Once again, I see the small dot hovering above like a bird soaring in the sky.
The breeze returns to the field, the sun’s glow is warmer, and I see a figure standing a few feet away from me.
Shaw stands with a gentle smile and motions for me to join him with a wave.
I take a moment to realize this isn’t real, but why is he here?
I pause, taking in the looming darkness above before I glance at Shaw through squinted eyes.
My body sags when he notices the darkness, causing his eyes to widen.
The shadow grows from directly overhead, and even with the drugs in my system, I can’t fight my panic when I realize it’s happening all over again.
I need to hide.
We have to hide.
Right now.
I rush toward where Shaw stands in the tall wheat, desperate for shelter once more, and I hear a crash behind me.
The shadow of two large wings devours me, and I look to Shaw, only to watch the panic spread across his face.
My entire body hesitates to turn as I replay what happened yesterday in my mind.
The demon. No, not just any demon.
Him.
I slowly glance over my shoulder and see Crew Bannermin in the same stance as the day before, appearing like the kiss of death.
His face is focused, his silver eyes shine like a full moon, and his black wings spread around him, making his frame appear larger than usual.
Rage fills his eyes, and his pupils are enormous, reflecting the darkness around him—but he doesn’t look at me. He’s looking directly at Shaw.
My body goes rigid as he steps forward.
He points one finger at Shaw and says, “You poor, fragile thing. Forced to live a life as a human.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t.
Crew rushes past me, pushing me over as if I’m weightless, and I crash to the ground. Tears blur my vision as I remember the last time I watched Crew run away—the night my father died.
“Shaw,” I yell. “Run.”
I turn, watching as Crew grabs Shaw by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. Shaw claws at his grip but can’t escape Crew’s strength. His face turns redder by the second, and I try to stand, but the stalks around me seem to anchor me in place.
“Get the fuck away from him,” I say, my words stumbling out of my mouth.
My throat burns as I scream, watching Crew tighten his grip around Shaw’s neck. The life begins to fade from his eyes, and Crew laughs wildly into the air. I watch in horror—in absolute panic—as one of my worst fears unfolds before me. The sun starts to vanish, casting us into even more darkness.
Crew lifts his opposite hand and pauses. “You will feel every second of this.”
I thrash against the ground as Crew drives his fist directly into Shaw’s chest. His bones splinter, blood sprays, and as quickly as it happens, Crew removes his hand from Shaw’s hollow ribcage, holding his heart—his chest as empty as people say mine is.
I watch him die.
And I lose control.
“No,” I sob. “Oh, my god.”