Chapter 7 #3
Sucking in and out slowly, I tried to calm myself, my gaze still on the box.
“Death surrounds you, girl. And it will destroy everyone for you.” Esmeralda’s words clung to me like a bad dream, her sentiment clawing at the back of my brain and tightening my chest.
Growing up, fortune tellers, seers, and tarot cards were seen as entertainment. Fake. Rebeka once had a cool theme party with tables set up with fortune tellers, but none of us believed it was anything but show. Their predictions were so generalized they could apply to anyone.
Inside the walls of Leopold, life tried to stay in the lines, pretending it was the time before the wall fell. Before we found out fae and magic were real, living among us, and our world was now theirs.
Esmeralda was no fake. Her statement peeled away all my barriers, finding the truth I was hiding, which I was terrified of.
Death would destroy everyone for me. I had no control and no understanding of the true power that filled me and the nectar that night.
It was magic no one had a name for, no one could define, because it didn’t exist. It was royal fairy magic, black magic.
It was death, grief, and pain from so much loss and sacrifice on the field.
The need to reach back for the nectar rocked through me like a drug I craved. My skin crawled with the need to move, the memory of Warwick’s voice still pounding through me.
I had to get out.
Tugging on my boots, I wrapped a pelt around me and slid out of the supply wagon I had taken up as my lodging. Every wagon, even the carny one, was full, so Jethro carved out a space for me to sleep between extra wagon wheels, food, and medical supplies.
Frigid air hit my lungs with a punch, and ice covered the grass and roofs of the wagon. Thick fog clung heavily to the trees, winding itself over the frozen ground. Dawn hinted on the horizon, dulling the stars in the sky.
My legs took off, heading for the thick forest beside my wagon, the fresh, crisp air clearing my tumbling mind. The canopy of trees engulfed me in shadows, my flesh shivering.
The sound of a slow-moving creek hit my ears before I came upon it. Squatting down, I cupped my hands into the icy water, splashing it on my face, sending a hiss up my throat.
Overhead an owl squawked out a loud cry, breaking the silence, the sound shivering down my shoulders.
The goosebumps covering my skin didn’t ebb as the chill from the water disappeared. Once again, I felt the spike of warning creep over me, pushing my shoulders back. My gaze scanned the forest for any movement. Person or wild animal. Though I was more afraid of a person.
There was no doubt I was being watched from the darkness.
Kalaraja always seemed to find me. While Warwick would come barreling for me, Kalaraja would enjoy slithering up to me, playing with me.
I had many out there looking for me . . . looking for what I carried.
That chilly sensation fluttered up the back of my neck and through my mind again, like a howl in the wind far away.
Deliberately, I rose to my feet, my gaze searching for any movement. My pulse thumped against my neck, anxiety thicker with each passing second.
I took a step back. Watching. Waiting.
Then I spun around to run but came to a dead stop, a cry barking from my chest.
Esmeralda stood only feet from me.
“Megbasz!” I jumped back in surprise. “How do you keep doing that?”
She stood there, her dark brown eyes on me, her hair in a messy bun, a heavy pelt draped over her shoulders covering her thin frame, highlighting her bright pink, fluffy slippers.
“Are those bunny slippers?” I did a double take, the assaulting color and cute floppy ears contrasting her eerie persona. They made me think of Opie. I missed him so much. I even missed waking up to Bitzy’s fingers in my nose.
“Yes,” she replied dryly, her lips pinching as the ears on her slippers flopped around. She didn’t speak again, the air filling with awkward silence, my feet shifting under me.
“Well . . .” I nodded my head, starting to move around her. “Gonna head back to camp now.”
Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. Her eyes were hazy with a faraway look. “You will only know death if you don’t learn control.”
A gasp hiccupped in my throat. “Wha-what?”
“He’s here. He stays close to you. So does death. They loiter at the edges.”
“Who? Who’s here?” A spike of trepidation filled my throat as her death grip tightened.
“He says he would do it again. Forgives you.”
A flush of cold heat plunged through me.
“Forgives me?”
Her hazy eyes flickered. “He fears what you are . . . what you can do if you don’t learn control.”
“Who?”
Esmeralda blinked, her head shaking as if she was coming out of a trance. “Dammit. It’s too early for this crap,” she grumbled, her hand dropping from mine, snarling out at the woods as if there was someone there. “Before I even had my coffee.”
“What is going on?”
“That old man is quite persistent.”
“What old man?”
“The Druid,” she huffed, folding her arm, her head flicking out to the space beside me. “He’s right here.”