CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You’re lying.”
“I swear on my kingdom, I would never lie to you.”
The calmness, the pity only agitates the turmoil gurgling up my esophagus.
“You have to be, because I would know—”
“Not all who are do.”
His levelheaded tone is a stick stabbing at the hornet’s nest buzzing between my ears.
“My boys would have said. They would have told me.”
“They couldn’t.” He reaches as if to touch me but stops himself — part of me is glad. “New souls who don’t know they’re dead are volatile. Their emotions are no longer being regulated. A soul could turn into an Echo, a parasite, like your aunt if they lose control.”
This is all too much.
It doesn’t make any sense.
How can I be dead? When did I die? I would know.
“Show me.”
I’m not entirely sure how he’s supposed to do that, but I’m more surprised when he inclines his head and stands. With the same carefulness, he pulls himself free of my heat. The loss feels astronomical, but I push it aside as I’m set on my feet and watch vines slither into place to cover him.
“Did you not ask how it is that now, after all these years, you were finally able to return to Chthonia?” he asks gently as he leads me through the trees in the direction of an armoire built inside a sprawling oak.
“I thought it was time,” I mumble stupidly, realizing that probably should have been one of the questions I asked. “I thought the alignment was right or the rules changed.”
He draws open the ornate doors carved with plaited notches that resemble a leaf.
Inside are rows upon rows of the most beautiful dresses.
More than I could possibly wear in a single lifetime.
More than should be possible to fit in such a confined space.
They hang from rods that clink softly when he pulls one free and offers it to me.
It’s a yard of liquid silver draped over his arm. The fabric gleams in the navy hue, a cluster of finely woven strands that — once worn — spills over every curve to perfection. It sweeps in an elegant wave to the floor with a short train that gives the simplicity a touch of drama.
I am immediately in love with it. With the thin threads of silver pulled through the gossamer material. The sheer sleeves that bellow from the elbows and dance with the slightest motion. Even the dramatic plunge of the neckline framing the full curves of my breasts suits the outfit.
“It’s beautiful!” I gasp.
I lift my face when he doesn’t respond, and I’m kicked in the gut by the raw anguish twisting his features.
“After the first hundred years, they no longer smelled of you. I nearly threw them into the fire.”
My feet go to him before I can remember I’m leaving. His arms are already open, already scooping me up against his chest. His face falls into the skin between my neck and shoulder and he inhales deep.
“Please don’t leave me again,” he begs. “I will have no reason to keep going this time.”
“I don’t want to leave, but I have to see my parents. I have to explain...” I draw back enough to capture his face between my hands. “Imagine if I just vanished. No word. You had no idea what happened to me. What would you have done?”
A faint, crimson hue glows behind his eyes. Reflecting the simmering fury coiling out of his roots.
“I would burn Chthonia to the ground and take the earth apart from its very core.”
I feel myself grinning. “My parents don’t have that power. So, they will worry. My dad can’t be made to stress. He has a bad heart.”
The anger dulls but doesn’t vanish as he peers into my face.
“I understand, my love. But there are bigger risks if you return to the human world tonight.” He takes my fingers and leads me through the bedroom, around still, dark trees and out through a set of doors made entirely of intricately laced roots.
“You are no longer human, but a soul. If you remain in the human world, you will go mad. You will mourn and fall into a pit of despair. You will see humans and long to be one. You will turn vengeful and demonic.”
“Like Aunt Laura?”
He considers that as we walk through an orchard in full bloom.
“Your aunt...” He pauses to pick his words carefully, though he doesn’t have to.
I know what my aunt was. “Your aunt was dabbling in things humans should never touch. She wanted eternal life. Wealth. All the useless things mortals seem to think their souls are worth. I watched your aunt rip open pockets she had no business opening. I saw the malicuri she summoned. The one who killed her. I could not save her, Rina. She had tainted her soul. She was an Echo before she died. If you stay,” he continues softly, “you will be the same. You will haunt your parents. You will terrorize and brutalize them. You will be so angry and sad, you won’t be able to stop yourself. ”
I wish I didn’t understand him.
I wish I didn’t believe what he was saying, but I’ve seen that movie. I know how it ends and it’s never good for the spirit, or the people it haunts.
I do not want to be like Aunt Laura.
I don’t want to be that rabid, bloody thing all deformed and demonic wandering the world, haunting my family.
I don’t want to be away from here, and him.
“Can I see how I died?” I ask, accepting that if I am truly dead, going back to hurt my parents is the last thing I want.
He casts me the slightest head tilt but asks no questions as he guides me along a dirt path deeper through a wild maze of trees.
“As you wish.”
We cross a moss-covered path through a bubbling brook that faintly glows in the shimmering hue of dusky blue. I stop at the center for a moment and peer down at the rushing stream flowing around the rock.
“I remember this place,” I say out loud, glancing back at the way we’d come, then ahead.
“I used to chase you through these woods,” he murmurs with just the hint of a smirk on his face. “You’d scream and laugh. These woods would ring with the sound.”
I narrow my eyes. “Let me guess, you’d cheat by using your vines.”
He purses his lips and tilts his face away. “It’s not cheating.”
Laughing, I hop to the next stone, the hem of my skirt twisted in my hand. “If you can’t catch me on your own, we might have a problem.”
I land nimbly on the bank. I barely take two steps when his arm hooks around my middle and yanks me back into his chest.
“Oh, I can catch you, my little queen. With or without my vines.”
A thrill scuttles down my spine to collect in the place desperate to have him back. But I tilt my head over my shoulder and meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t think you can. Obviously, I’m too quick for you and that’s okay. I’m sure you’re better at other things.”
That hue of red illuminates behind his eyes and my adrenaline spikes with giddy anticipation. His chest expands against my back as he lifts a clawed hand and captures my throat.
“Easy, my sweet prey. It’s been too long since I’ve been gentle.”
Lies.
He’d been nothing but gentle with me since the stone archway, but the thought of him hunting me, chasing me down and taking me like a wild animal in the woods...
“If you can’t handle it—”
The claw at my throat tightens. Another joins it across the back of my skull. I’m lifted off the ground, feet dangling. His mouth closes over mine in a kiss that has me struggling to breathe.
When I open my eyes, his are a violent, predator red. His fangs are bared. There is no sign of the gentle soul who cradled me. This is the creature in the stories. The bloodthirsty demiurge.
“Run, my queen,” he snarls across my mouth.
Without warning, he releases me and I heave as I suck air back into my lungs. My head rushes with the lack of oxygen, fear and a pumping arousal that has my knees going weak.
But I obey.
I gather up my skirts and I bolt. I dart through the trees. Feet thundering against miles of uneven forest. Part of me is partially relieved there are no bushes. No rocks or roots. The ground is a rolling valley of grass and dense trees.
But I’m in silver.
A beacon in the shadows.
A pathetic rabbit running from a demiurge.
Jesus, I’m trying to outrun a demiurge.
The giggle nearly bubbles past my lips, but I swallow it down as I spin around a cluster of trees and loop in the opposite direction.
It’s unnatural how still everything is. How silent. The entire expanse of space goes on forever, never changing, but...
Something rustles on my left.
Close.
I feel the punch of air slam into my side.
I scream without thinking and whirl to find nothing.
Heart pounding, I scramble back, head whipping from side to side. Eyes scanning.
A tug on my hair.
I spin, expecting him to be there, but...
“No fair,” I pant. “I can’t turn invisible.”
His low, husky chuckle brushes my right ear. “Not invisible. I am everywhere.” I spin. Nothing. “I am the trees.” My left ear. Spin. Nothing. “I am the ground. The flowers.”
I’m spinning and whirling, and his voice keeps whispering in my ear, and I’m getting dizzy and disoriented.
“I am a demiurge, my love.” He’s everywhere. All around me. swirling and tangling through my sanity. “You can’t escape me.”
Laughing hysterically, I push deeper into the wild, yelling over my shoulder, “Come and get me then.”
I hear his chuckle whisper through the wind as it whips past my ear.
It momentarily surprises me that I’m not out of breath.
I’m slightly winded. I feel the burn and tightening in my lungs, the stitch in my side, but I’m not tired.
My limbs aren’t begging to stop. I could run forever it feels like, and I wonder if that’s what happens when you have no body to exhaust. It also brings to mind the fact that I have not eaten or had anything to drink.
I do sleep. I do know that. But all the little things that keep humans going don’t seem to apply.
Thoughts for later, I tell myself as I push through a cluster of trees straight into something else.
Darker. Thicker.
The woods here are bent and twisted. They huddle together as if in fear. Shrouded by a thick column of fog that rises from a ground choked with foliage. The air is wet. Soggy, yet suffocating. Insects chirp from amongst the giant leaves dripping with condensation.
I hazard a step. Then another.
Something slithers through the brush. Something long and thick. And black.
Shahmaran.
Terror winds around my esophagus as I search the heavy wisps of smoke. My fingers tighten in my skirt as I edge away. Careful not to make a sound.
Gingerly, I cross a rickety bridge through hanging vines that brush against my clammy skin. The water beneath the rotted boards froth and steam.
Somewhere overhead, a tiny bell tinkles. A faint ping that sends cold sweat down my already sweaty spine. Still, I tip my head back and squint through the branches.
And choke on a scream.
Far above me, filthy feet swing. Sway. The rope creaks and my stomach churns.
I don’t look closer.
I don’t look back.
I throw myself headlong away from the tiny bell dangling from the big toe.
This is no longer funny. I don’t want to play anymore. But I’m too scared to call for him when shapes are moving in the mist. Spindly things with long, skeletal legs and arching horns.
Something is scuttling to my left.
A faint humming is coming from the right.
I push deeper, hoping to outrun it all, but I barely get far enough when my feet sink into mush. Wet sludge that squishes between my toes and teeters me forward into a swamp so still, it could have been glass.
Shuddering, I try to take a step back, but it only makes me slip closer. Slide in until my toes are nearly at the lip.
Across the water, a bubble pops. Then another. I lift my head and freeze as I come face to face with a pair of milky, white eyes on a molted, gray face exposed only from the eyes up.
“Come in,” it whispers in my head. “One more step.”
Around it, dozens more pop up. Gray skin and dead eyes. But the water stays still. A perfect mirror of horrific faces.
I throw myself back. Away from the water and the eyes watching me. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. But I don’t let myself regroup. I scramble back, nails clawing into soggy dirt as I find my feet and run.
There are no more paths. The trees claw at my dress.
Rip my hem. It snags on my hair and scratches my skin.
Beneath my feet, a root I step on coils.
I lose my balance and hit the ground on both knees, but don’t stop.
Don’t look back. I crawl over thick knots and sharp stones.
I no longer have any idea which way I’ve come from or how to get back.
I stumble down a small incline cut through at the bottom with a thin river. I catch myself on the bank and claw my way back to the edge but the ground is soft. It keeps crumbling under my feet.
“Here,” says a voice from over my head. “Take my hand.”
Two sets of hands hang over the side. Pale with black fingertips. They open and close. Beckoning me to them.
A third hand joins it. Then a fourth.
Then a face covered in thin, straggly hair. I think it’s upside down until I realize the eyes are at the chin and the thin, lipless mouth is at the forehead.
“Go on.” It cackles. “Take it.”
I miss a step and slide a foot towards the water. It’s by the grace of a root poking out of the side of the hill that I keep from going any further.
The thing overhead chitters. Its neck snaps as it cocks to follow my escape.
“Let me help you,” it sneers, crawling down the side of the incline, one, two, three legs.
Four legs.
Six.
Its body is a cracked, human ribcage attached to six arms with too many bends. They claw and scuttle towards me.
Moving too fast.
I scream.
“Vaelith!”
The thing is a foot away. Claws extended. Front arms raised over its upside-down head.
I scream again and throw an arm up to shield my face.