25. The Call #2
“Flora!” he panted, relief flooding his face as he landed ungracefully nearby. His dark-tipped wings folded inward in a swirl of ash, and his body emerged through the dust, reaching out to hold her. “You had me so worried,” he said, his hoarse voice now sheepish against her ear.
He paused, stunned, as she pressed cold metal to the skin of his chest, tugging down at his collar.
“I told you not to follow me,” she muttered low, leaning closer.
Flora’s voice held a subtle, sultry seethe, like fire banked under ash.
Noec inhaled sharply as she bit lightly on the edge of his ear.
Her hand trembled, but a sinister excitement tugged erratically at the edge of her smile as she pulled away just enough to watch his face.
“Flora... I don’t underst—” he stammered, his words trailing off as his wide jade eyes met hers with a wide rim of gold at the edges, barely a whisper of black in the center.
His terror was deliciously palpable, his hands unsteady, and his face altogether priceless.
She smiled, and it tasted like blood on her tongue.
“Flora. Your eyes.”
“What about them?” she groaned, impatiently tapping the gun.
“They’re like mine.”
His words gave her pause. Noec’s gaze flicked between the pistol and the tears she hadn’t realized were streaking her face. Rage surged within her, but something held her back. Her hand became steady, though the smile on her lips began to waver.
“Why am I doing this?” she whispered, her voice cracking with confusion. “I don’t even remember what you did to me.”
“You need time, Flora. Just one day and the worst of it will subside.” Noec gently placed his hands over hers, his grip firm yet tender as they held the gun pressed against his chest. “I think you should give this to me.”
Her mind screamed in defiance.
Of course he wanted to take the one thing that gave her any semblance of control.
Of course he needed to make it so that she was helpless without him.
Her finger tensed against the trigger, and Noec’s eyes widened in fear. “Please, Flora,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love you.”
At that, she was taken aback. Shaken by her own thoughts, Flora exhaled deeply. Her hands slackened, slipping out from beneath his as the gun remained in his grasp.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice hollow. She pulled her bag, containing Sona’s journal, from over her shoulders and handed it to him. “I can’t be near you,” she muttered, brushing past him as she stumbled further into the forest.
Noec’s voice trailed behind her as she walked away. “Don’t forget yourself, Flora. I’ll be waiting when it’s over.”
She wandered further and further into the darkness, large leaves crumbling at her feet as she ached to grasp that one gentle hum in particular, one that she didn’t quite recognize.
Flora unhinged the cage that held her madness the moment she could no longer hear his heartbeat scraping at the edges of her brain.
Yet, sounds still overwhelmed her—the distant voices of men and women by the stream, the rustling of leaves beneath her feet, the shuffling of squirrels and rats.
Every sound, from clicking bugs to the calls of owls, funneled into her ears with excruciating clarity, overshadowing the voice that she was so desperately trying to understand.
“Noec Eldon,” a child said, his ghost stepping toward the startled seven year old girl like a lurking predator.
How dare he. How dare he manipulate her so readily. “I love you” he’d said. And she ate it up, because what strength could she possibly muster against him.
“Shut up!” she screamed, her shrill voice echoing into the vast darkness. “I’m trying to listen!” The chirping birds and clicking bugs halted for only a moment, only to again resume buzzing like static in her ears.
She clamped her hands over her ears, but even the rhythmic pumping of her own blood made her want to rip the hair from her scalp. Voices, thoughts, and vague memories swirled together, but she just knew they would all go away if she could just make out that gentle song in the distance.
Overwhelmed, just as she had been twelve years ago, she bolted into the wilderness, her legs carrying her as fast as they could.
The glowing lilies streaked past her in blurred strings like streetlights along a highway.
Sweat trickled down her forehead as an alarming realization crept in—the scenery wasn’t changing. Was she running in circles?
She dug her heels into the ground and stopped abruptly.
Frantically, she scanned her surroundings while the cacophony of nighttime voices reverberated in her ears.
She wished for silence—desperate for everything to stop, just so that she could hear where the voice was coming from.
All of this madness, she thought, stemmed from her heartbeat above all others.
“Noec Eldon,” young Noec’s voice repeated.
“I SAID BE QUIET!” she shrieked.
Vaguely, deeply in the woods, that one sound hummed more gently than all the rest.
Her thoughts interrupted by the shuffling of a rabbit, she tore her dress as she dove, catching it with one trembling hand. Its soft gray fur quivered in her grasp, its tiny heart pounding furiously against her fingers. A smile sharpened Flora’s lips as a fearful eye looked back at her.
With a slow breath, she gently set the rabbit down. It scrambled away as she sat on her knees on the forest floor, curling into herself.
“I’m sorry,” Flora murmured, staring down at her hands. “I’m sorry.” She rocked, then paused, looking out into the blackness as she whispered, “Davy?”
The sound of his name sent a tremor through her. Salty tears welled up and spilled over as she trembled.
She imagined him healed and whole, lying by the spring, teasing her about her expression when his eyes had glazed over.
They would have laughed, and she would have scolded him for worrying her.
Together, they would have gone home to their parents, wearing proud smiles and sharing tales of their bravery.
“Mom,” she whimpered, a tear slipping through the mess of her hair.
“Dad.” Her body shook with the force of her sobs.
“Davy,” she cried, his name a broken echo of her grief.
He would never come home to their parents, and though they would never say it aloud, they would always blame her for ever bringing him here.
The sorrow twisted into rage as she lifted her head. Her lips curled, and a hiss escaped her. She could feel the pupils of her sapphire eyes narrowing into a sharp, predatory glare.
“I hear your heartbeat, monster,” she growled, her voice taut and trembling.
She didn’t move as Noec descended before her, his wings fluttering, then folding behind him.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” said the sturdy feline form, his coarse tone somehow still vulnerable and sincere. He met her bitter glare, and his ears pinned back. There was no malice in those green and yellow eyes, though she searched desperately for it. “Those creatures are still in here.”
Flora sighed and stood up slowly, torn between wanting him gone and fearing the crushing mania his absence would welcome. “I’ll hurt you,” she warned quietly.
“I’ll keep my distance.”
“I’ll say things that’ll hurt you.”
“I can handle it,” he replied.
Her fists clenched as her nails dug into her palms. “I can’t,” she said. He didn’t reply, but didn’t leave, either. After a long silence, she asked, “Did we... win?”
Noec sighed. “It’s... hard to say. We lost more people than we imagined we would, and many of those were at the hands of our own immature scythes. But... the wild Scytherax left. We don’t really know why, but after we killed the Shadowkeeper, they just..."
“You didn’t kill him,” Flora interrupted. Noec tilted his head, his large eyes blinking. “The Shadowkeeper isn’t a scythe, or at least he doesn’t look like a scythe. The man that saved me and brought me indoors during the fighting, he blinked and his eyes turned white.”
“Who?”
“There was…” Flora suddenly recalled the humiliation and helplessness of being held down as he mixed his blood with hers. Her fists clenched tighter, and she let out a furious groan. She gripped her arms in front of her body so that she wouldn’t try to hurt Noec, beginning to pace rapidly.
“Flora? Let’s... let's talk more about things later.”
“Davy saved me,” she muttered, as though trying to convince herself.
“I know,” Noec said, his sad eyes reflecting the same shade as the night lilies.
“Make sure everyone knows,” she demanded.
“I will.”
Flora paused her pacing. “Why weren’t you there for me?” she asked through her teeth. “Why did he have to die in your place?”
Noec looked away, his posture sinking. “I swear to you I tried,” he pleaded, his gentle voice still coarsened by his feral form. “I promise I’ll never let you stand alone again. Anywhere you go, I go. I swear it.”
Flora said nothing, her jaw tight and her focus fixed on the darkness beyond him.
“I’ll be close,” he said, turning and lifting his gaze as though preparing to leave. “You don’t have to be afraid. I promise.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she said curtly.
Noec paused. His ears rose, and the serrated whip of his tail flicked. “Don’t worry,” he said—calmly, firmly—but she could see his muscles tense. “You can’t.”
“What makes you think I can’t?” she retorted plainly.
“My infected wounds were closed in the water, just like yours. Aria says you’re either stronger because of that, or because of my tears.
” As the fire beneath her skin burned hot, the hum of her voice went cold.
“Lucky for you, I’m damn near out of tears. ”