Chapter 38 #2
What in the actual hell was wrong with him! How could he be so callous? So disgustingly rude!
The old man’s head dropped. With slow, dragging steps, his bare, dirt-blackened feet scuffed the path as he turned away.
My heart tightened.
“Wait!” I shouted, already jogging up the trail to him.
I swiftly plucked off my simple, gold-studded earrings. Stepping forward, I grabbed the man’s worn hand and placed them in his palm.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t have any food with me, but hopefully this will help you buy some.” My mouth pulled in apologetically, trying to soften the ache I saw in his hollow eyes. “Please ignore my friend’s horrible behavior. He’s—he’s temperamental.” My eyes cut Pogue down, firm and reprimanding.
The man’s bony fingers closed around the earrings. Muddled eyes rose to meet mine.
“Many thanks,” he breathed. With a bow of his head, he glanced at Pogue. The tone of his voice dropped lower. “Perhaps something is eating away at his soul . . .” He paused. “Or will be . . .”
Something eerie swept over his face as his gaze flicked to the waterfalls—to the cave laying beneath.
Then the expression was gone.
I blinked.
What the hell was that?
He continued on and disappeared into the dark.
My skin prickled. That jolting feeling, zapping me awake—my inkling flaring to life.
Pogue stared at me, not just looking, but studying. As if I were some unsolved riddle. Or maybe he was also contemplating tossing me into the falls.
“Come on,” he ordered.
I rubbed my pebbled forearm, repressing the ominous feeling in my gut.
“You really are a prick, you know that?” I snapped. “You didn’t have to be so mean to him!”
“He’s a beggar,” Pogue grumbled, already making his way up the falls. “I can’t afford to give him my time.”
My footsteps crunched behind him, quick and angry.
“Kindness literally costs nothing,” I hissed. “You should try it sometime.”
The jerk didn’t even bother to turn and look me in the eyes.
“Sorry,” he said, tone flat and bored. “But all my charity is wasted on you.”
Dick.
Mist billowed across my face in a chilling sweep as we neared the edge of the falls where a small, naturally-carved stone path curved beneath the rushing water.
I could already feel it. That now-familiar glow rising under my skin again, spiraling like wildfire. My irritation surged with every step.
“Who hurt you?” I barked. I meticulously stepped along the slick path, trying not to bust my ass on mossy stone. Pogue, of course, seemed to glide like the water itself, graceful and effortless. He disappeared into the hollow beneath the cascade.
“But seriously—who hurt you?” I yelled, the sound echoing off wet rock.
“Who demented your brain so badly that you think it’s okay to treat people like that?
” Each word hit like a stone—a stone I wished I could actually pelt at him.
“Let me guess. Some spoiled, entitled ex? Or maybe your mother didn’t hug you enough when—”
My rant screeched to a halt the moment my foot hit a patch of slippery algae at the mouth of the dooming cave.
My leg shot out from under me, launching my torso backward toward the raging falls a foot away.
I was one breath away from being swallowed and dragged down by the surge.
One heartbeat away from being smashed into the pool below like hell’s version of a waterpark ride.
But right before my head met the water, an arm caught me. Strong, unflinching muscles wrapped around my back, yanking me forward. I crashed chest-first into what I assumed was rock wall. Until it took in a deep breath.
Not a wall. Pogue.
My palms splayed against his pecks, his arm still locked around me like a safety harness.
In the darkness, the only thing visible was the faint glint of light reflecting in his eyes, cold glass flecked with blue fire. And the only thing I could feel . . . was his breath. Warm, soft, tempting.
One breath kissed the top of my face before fading.
I thanked the fucking fates that it was night, because I could feel my cheeks go aflame. The thin material of his white shirt did absolutely nothing to help contain the inferno building beneath my skin.
I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any closer—but he did. His head dipped, closing the space between us until there was nothing left. His lips parted, a breath away from mine.
My lungs went into overdrive. Each inhale forced my chest more firmly against his . . . and I didn’t miss the sharp catch of his breath.
“Don’t.” he whispered. “Ever.” Each word landed like a hex, a curse spawned from rage. “Talk about my mother.” His glare cut through me like razors, so serrated and cold I half expected him to bare fangs as well.
There was a long beat of silence. But I refused to look away, to back down.
Note to self—yo mama jokes were apparently where he drew the line. But treating the less fortunate like trash—totally fair game.
Screw him. At this point, I just needed to be done with him. Maybe he was my karma for all the boundaries I’d bulldozed through in my teenage years. A man placed here to specifically torture me. Equal parts irresistibly attractive, and unbearably infuriating.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I seethed, finally shoving out of his grasp like he was poison ivy. Contact I didn’t want, but my skin tingled as if already missing the itch.
Pogue straightened. His throat bobbed as if he weren’t just swallowing down his words . . . but my presence.
“The cave runs deep.” He nodded into the blackness. “Branches out into others. You’re to use your Soulsayer ability for sight, nothing else. Focus. Ground yourself.” Voice hardening, the mentor returned. “I’ll be deep in one of the offshoots. Wait five minutes. Then come find me.”
He spun on his feet without another word, vanishing into the pitch-black void.
“Wait,” I called after him. “How are you going to see anything?”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Something flickered in his eyes. Not ice this time, but something quiet and sad.
“I was born in the dark,” he said softly, as if falling into a distant memory. “Learned to thrive in it. It’ll be like spending time with an old friend.”
Then, the shadows swallowed him whole.
The silence constricted around me like a too-tight blanket. I let my heartbeat slow and my mind clear.
Ground yourself, I reminded. So I did.
A heavy sorrow fell over me, thick and aching.
But I realized it wasn’t mine. It coated my skin like a cream soaking in, entering my bloodstream.
This was his pain. My ability had reached out on instinct—a hand dipping a finger into his soul.
Enough to taste the essence of it. To feel the weight of it. And my god, it was heavy . . .
A twist of guilt coiled in my gut. Maybe I’d been too harsh. There were clearly some serious scars carved into his soul. Scars no one acquired by accident. I couldn’t imagine what kind of horrors he would’ve survived through in order to carry marks like that.
Still, he was a grown adult. Probably had years to face those demons, to find healing. Or at least stop using his own pain as a weapon against others. Maybe if he had a little empathy for others and their struggles, he’d learn a thing or two.
I exhaled sharply, cutting the thought loose like a rogue spindle of thread.
Focus.
I reached inward again, feeling for that connection. The subtle pull of spirit energy. Pogue’s shimmered at the edges of my senses, taut and waiting. I latched onto it, tracking. My power spiraled around me in soft swirls, casting a faint glow across the surrounding jagged walls.
Pull.
Step.
Pull.
Step.
In my mind’s eye, I kept reeling in that thin strand of connection. Like a fisherman unknowingly reeling in a pouty dickfish.
Each stride farther into the cave was cautious. My eyes were half closed, focus split between two worlds. The moss-riddled floor was slick and uneven. I had to balance my Soulsayer instinct with physical awareness. A mental muscle I wasn’t used to flexing. At least, not like this.
The harder I tugged and farther I reached, the stronger a throb built behind my temples. I’d probably have a week’s worth of migraines after this.
Almost there, closer now. He’d clearly gone deep, too deep for my liking.
A fork in the path appeared. The moment I stepped forward, I felt it—a tug to the right. Stronger now, weighted. Like the connection transitioned from a thread to a dense rope, tight and tangible. He must’ve been nearby.
Crack!
The sound ricocheted through the tunnel, sharp and violent, like the snap of a whip.
I froze mid-step.
A shudder tore through me. Images of the Dullahan burned across my mind. The shrieking—the flaring pain.
No, it can’t be. It’s gone . . . it’s gone.
This better not have been some training exercise or sick joke Pogue came up with. I swear to god, I’ll cut his—
The connection immediately surged, a lightning strike of pain blasting through my head. I staggered back, clutching my skull.
“Ahhh!” My palms pressed harder, hoping to contain the radiating ache.
What the fuck was that?
Then, it happened again. Not just pain this time, but a flood of fear crashing in like a wave, suffocating.
Not yours . . . a voice seemed to say.
Then it clicked—this wasn’t my pain, my fear.
“Shit!” I swore, bolting through the tunnel, heart hammering. I ran as fast as I was able without snapping an ankle on a rock.
Something was after Pogue . . .