Forsaken Page 8

  I glance down at our interlocked fingers and then at the trees. "Okay."

  He almost smiles then steps toward where the sunlight meets the shade of the trees. "So, what's usually in this sort of place?" he asks as dry, crisp leaves float around us. "And what the hell are these things?"

  "Those are leaves." I contain a giggle as he flicks a leaf off his shoulder. "They fall off the trees when it's autumn."

  "Autumn?"

  "It's a season. You know, summer, winter, spring ..." I trail off as he gapes at me. "Oh, there are no seasons in the red sky world?"

  His lips quirk in semi-amusement. "Is that what you call our world?"

  "I don't know what else to call it. Do you guys have a name for it?"

  "No. We usually just refer to it as our world. And of course, the city is the broken city."

  "I'm nervous to go to the city," I admit as we hike deeper into the woods, leaves and twigs crunching underneath our boots. "It sounds kind of scary."

  "It is scary." He glances up at the sunlight sneaking through the branches above us. "But you won't really be in the city. You'll be in the station, and the station is probably one of the safest places there is." When my finger twitches, he looks down at our interlinked hands. "You're scared? Why?"

  "It's nothing." But my shaking hands say otherwise. "I'm just a little bit nervous that Lex will eventually be at the station."

  He grinds to an unexpected halt, his head whipping in my direction. "Who told you about that?" His harsh tone sends a shiver through me.

  "Reece," I answer nervously. "I'm sorry if he wasn't supposed to. It's really not his fault, though. I was asking him a bunch of questions."

  He grinds his teeth. "I was going to tell you. I just wanted to wait until we were far away from the East City Post before I did."

  "It's okay. I understand. Reece explained that you guys wanted to wait until we were farther away so I wouldn't get scared."

  "No. It's not okay. I'm usually not like this." He rubs his free hand across the shaved side of his head, shifting his weight. "I've always been a blunt person. I don't sugarcoat shit. That's Reece and Ryder's thing, not mine."

  "I know. You told me," I say, puzzled by his anger.

  Is he mad at me, Reece, or himself?

  "And you've been really honest about a lot of stuff."

  "The last few days, I haven't. The last few days, I've watched almost every single word that's come out of my mouth." His forehead creases as if his own words confuse him. Then he blinks, erasing the look, and starts walking again, pulling me along with him.

  I want to ask him why he's so upset, but I worry that will only add fuel to the fire. So, I keep my lips zipped and struggle to match his long, determined strides.

  "I locked them in their own mind," he abruptly announces as we weave around an ancient oak tree smack dab in the middle of the forest.

  Something about the tree sends my senses into a frenzy. I want to run up to it and breathe in the scent of the leaves.

  "Locked who in their mind?" I ask distractedly.

  What would happen if I plucked a leaf from a branch and ate it?

  I shake my head at myself. What a strange, stupid thought.

  "Lucille and Maxx. After they hurt you, I went back into that room and filled their minds with their darkest nightmares," Blaise says matter-of-factly.

  My attention snaps from the tree to him. I don't know whether to be afraid or not. It seems like maybe I should be, yet I don't feel an ounce of fear inside me.

  "How did you lock them in there?"

  "Fear can be a powerful thing." He shrugs, staring at the dry leaves covering the muddy ground. "Put enough in someone's mind, and it can completely take them over."

  "Will they ever escape?"

  "Maybe. But I really hope they don't." His gaze shifts to me. "Are you afraid of me now? Do you think I'm a monster?"

  I shake my head with almost zero deliberation. "No."

  He searches my eyes for something. "Are you sure? Because some people are."

  I easily nod. "Do you want me to think that way of you?"

  "I don't know what I want." He scratches at his neck, squinting at the bark of the willow tree. "Wait. What is that?"

  I track his gaze to a spot where A&P has been carved into the bark. Stepping forward, I lift my hand and place my palm over the inscription.

  "Allura and Pierce," I utter as memories twirl in my mind.

  "Now the whole forest knows I love you." A guy smiles at me as he tosses the knife onto the ground. Then he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, his gaze dropping to my lips. "You know that, right? That I love you?"

  I smile at the engraving, but then my smile falters. No. I can't let him kiss me. I don't even know this man. Or maybe I do know him ...

  I turn my head and take in his shaggy brown hair, his freckled nose, and his deep brown eyes that are lit up with so much happiness and love.

  His smile vanishes. "What's wrong?" His eyes widen. "Oh, dear, did I misread you? I thought you felt the same way, but I ..." He looks away from me, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes.

  I want to comfort him, tell him I love him, too, but I can't make the connection. Frustration builds inside me.

  "I'm sorry. I don't--"

  Gunfire yanks me back to reality--or dreamland, anyway. Shock instantly makes my body run deathly cold, like ice in my veins.

  Blaise and I are no longer standing in the forest, but in a familiar field enveloped by trees. Men are shouting over the slamming of horses' hooves, and a thick fog hangs in the air.

  No. No. No. No. This can't be happening.

  But it is, and now I have to relive getting shot.

  Another thought occurs to me, and my fear amplifies. Oh no! What if Blaise gets shot, too! Will he actually be shot? How does dreamland work exactly?

  "Fire!" a man yells, and I instinctively lunge for Blaise, wanting to protect him.

  But he grabs ahold of me and dives to the ground on his back so I land on top of him. He doesn't miss a beat, flipping us over and covering my body with his.

  "I don't know what's happening. For some reason, I've lost control of the dream." Propping up on his elbows, he scans the tall grass around us.

  "They're coming from the north." An icky feeling gnaws at me as I replay the outcome of this memory ... dream ... whatever this is. Blaise is going to hear the men yell those horrible things about me. What if he somehow puts two and two together and figures out what I am? "And there's one by the river, just east."

  His gaze lowers to mine, his brows dipping. "How do you know that?"

  "Because I've seen it before," I whisper over the gunfire. "It was the dream I was in right before you put the images of the cloudy sky in my mind. Only, this time, it feels different ... more vivid and real."

  Tension ripples in his muscles. "This is the dream where you're shot?"

  I nod. "These people are hunting me ... because I'm ... different."

  Blaise stares down at me with a mixture of inquisitiveness and uncertainty. Worried he's going to abandon me, my fingers curl inward, and I grip the front of his shirt. Sensing my movement, he glances at my hands, and then his gaze resides on my face.

  "Allura, I'm not going to leave you." He speaks slowly, stressing the importance. "I'd never do that to you, no matter what's about to happen."

  I smash my quivering lips together, thinking of the man on the horse riding in the river. We knew each other, had feelings for one another, yet he shot at me.

  "She has to be around here somewhere," a man bellows from nearby.

  Blaise starts to raise his head, but then ducks down and lines his body against mine. His body heat is so suffocating I can scarcely breathe. I can't recall the last time someone was this close to me besides when Blaise and I were in the trunk of the car. Even then, he kept a little distance between us, unlike right now.

  I wonder if our nearness makes him uneasy, as well. He told me that he doesn't like being touched, y
et we're practically touching each other in every way possible.

  "Just stay calm," he whispers raggedly in my ear. "Nothing's going to happen to you. I won't let you get shot again."

  "Allura, we know you're out here, so you might as well come out," a different man speaks, his voice tugging at my memories and my heartstrings.

  The man from the river. The man I think I loved once.

  A loud exhale falters from my lips as the footsteps grow closer.

  Blaise rests his forehead against mine and places two fingers to my lips. "Sh ..." he whispers.

  I loop my arms around him and quietly breathe through my nose. In and out. In and out. Just calm down.

  "Over here!" a deep voice rumbles as a shadow casts across us. "She's not alone, either." A middle-aged man with jet black hair appears above us.

  He leans down to snatch ahold of the collar of Blaise's leather jacket then yanks him off me and shoves him to the side. Two younger men step up and grab Blaise's arms, holding him back.

  Irritation flickers across Blaise's expression, but he doesn't fight back, his eyes burning into mine.

  "Just stay calm," he mouths. "I'll get us out of this."

  "I don't know why you try to run." The older man steps in front of Blaise, blocking him from my view. He crosses his arms and stares down at me with pure hatred in his eyes. "You only make it harder on yourself. You always do."

  Tears prickle at my eyes, but I suck them back, refusing to show weakness.

  He hitches his thumb around his leather gun strap and slings his gun over his shoulder. "If you would just stop running, this could all be over. But you run every time. You've spent an entire lifetime running and going back and forth to places you don't belong. Aren't you getting tired of it? Don't you just want to sit still for one second?"

  When I don't answer, he wraps his fingers around my wrists and tugs me to my feet.

  "It's always a battle with you, but I guess it's not your fault. You do have Grim blood in you."

  I feel like I've been punched in the throat, my windpipe tightening and restricting my airflow. I look away at the forest, unable to bear the hatred and disgust I know are in Blaise's eyes.

  "And now you've dragged this poor guy into your mess, just like you did my son," the man says as he drags me toward a large group of armed men.

  Most of them are wearing trousers tucked into leather boots and wool coats. Some are holding guns, while others are grasping the reins of their horses. Everything from the grassy field, to the fog, to their outfits, to the open space feels outdated.

  I glance down at myself, wondering if I'm wearing the long, black dress again, but strangely, I'm not.

  "I tried to warn him what you are, but he's too damn stubborn, just like his mother." The man constricts his grip on my wrist, casting an annoyed glance over at the river where a guy is sitting on his horse.

  The guy I thought I loved once ...

  Pierce.

  But the happiness and love that filled his eyes after he carved our names into the tree is no longer there. Instead, his face is twisted in agony, and when our gazes weld, that agony turns to loathing.

  Tugging on the reins, he kicks the horse with the heels of his boots and gallops off toward a Victorian two-story house about a mile down the field. I watch him slip farther and farther away from me, the hole in my heart expanding.

  "He knows what you are now," the man says, his fingernails delving into my flesh. "You were never supposed to exist, Allura. Human and Grim breeding was never supposed to happen." Anger flares in his eyes. "You, the rest of them--all the Grim--you taint the world. You go around, taking whatever you want and destroying everything in your paths. What you can do..." He shakes his head, his lips curling. "Something like you shouldn't exist. You're an abomination."

  "I don't mean to destroy anything." I lower my head as a few hot tears escape my eyes. My legs tremble, threatening to give out on me.

  "I honestly believe that." His harsh tone softens a smidgen. "But that doesn't change anything. As long as you exist, the world is going to perish. And if the Grim get ahold of you, our fate will be worse than it is already. We've spent years trying to destroy your kind, and I think I've finally figured out how. Your blood continuously heals you, but take that away, and you can't heal anymore. Bleed you dry, and you die."

  He grips me so tightly I'd probably bruise if I were human. But I won't. The blood in my veins is already working to heal me.

  I choke back a sob. "I'm sorry I'm this way. If I could change it, I would."

  "Well, you can't. Wait. What's happening?" Alarm floods the man's voice. "Wait! No ... Goddammit, not again ..." His fingers leave my wrists, and I crumble to the ground.

  Tears stream from my eyes as I rock back and forth. I can feel the blood pumping in my veins, working to heal where the man gripped me. I want it to stop. I want to bruise. I don't want to be like the Grim.

  I don't want to be a monster.

  Chapter Eleven

  Empathy

  The next thing I become aware of is that I'm lying on a soft surface and dust fills my lungs. I don't open my eyes, though, even when Blaise utters my name. I can't bring myself to look him in the eye.

  Mable warned me that, if anyone found out what I was, it could end badly for me. Clearly, she was right since those men seemed determined to kill me because of what I am. I just wish I knew who they were, how they found out about me, and how I became such an appalling creature. Was I always like this? Or was I created? It's hard to know for sure when I hardly remember anything about my life. And the bits and pieces I do remember don't make sense half the time.

  But what I really wish for the most is that Blaise didn't know about the monster that lives inside my blood, a monster he has declared his revulsion for more than once.

  "Allura, open your eyes please." He huffs an exasperated breath. "I can tell the dreamland's worn off because you're breathing normally again, so please stop pretending."

  Guilt festers inside me as I open my eyes and sit up.

  He's leaning closer than I expected, and I end up bumping my head against his chin. He curses, leaning away from me, while I scramble backward until my back slams against a muddy wall.

  "I-I'm sorry." I press the heel of my hand to my throbbing forehead and force my gaze off the ground to see if he's okay.

  He stares at me, rubbing his chin, an unreadable expression on his face.

  Shame weighs against my shoulders. Ryder told me the Grim killed Blaise's entire family. How can he stand to be in this confined hole with me? He probably can't.

  The silence between us seems to go on for hours.

  Unable to endure looking him in the eye any longer, I stare at the curved, dirt walls around me and then at the metal grate above where the bleeding sky is visible. I saw a ton of grates in the ground on my way into camp. My heavy heart sinks even more. I'm underground ... again.

  "How long have you been experiencing memories like that?" His firm voice shatters the silence. "Was that the first time it's been that vivid, or has it happened more than once?"

  I keep my gaze glued to the sky, even when my eyes start to water. "I don't know. I mean, I've had some vivid dreams before and spaced out into some memories while I was awake, but what just happened ... that felt different. More real, like I was actually reliving it, only the events happened slightly differently. I think it's because you were there."

  "It felt real to me, too. I don't even know how I lost control. Maybe it was because I was in there with you." His voice rises, his anger returning, and he quickly clears his throat several times. "I just wish I knew what was going on. I thought I'd learned almost everything I could do, but apparently not."

  I sneak a glance in his direction. "How long have you been able to do that? I mean, control people's thoughts."

  "Since before I came to the station," he bites out. "I've been able to do a lot of weird things since I was about twelve, but I didn't really learn about my abilities un
til Reece came along and studied me." He rolls his tongue in his mouth, like he's fighting back something bitter. "When he hooked me up to Oblivion, he discovered I have abnormal brain waves and that I could control people's thoughts. It takes a lot of concentration on my part, and the person usually has to be unconscious or doped up. Reece told me I might eventually be able to do it without even touching someone, but I haven't been able to do it yet."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I can't seem to get my own mind to relax. Reece gave me more of an explanation than that, but he used a lot of big, scientific words, and honestly, I got bored and kind of tuned him out." He rests his arms on his bent knees, his gaze boring into me. But when he speaks, his calm tone doesn't match the intensity flowing off him. "I'm glad you're looking at me again. I was worried you weren't ever going to."

  I stare down at my boots, feeling ashamed of what I am.

  "I don't know why you'd be glad. You heard what they said ... about me."

  "Yeah, I heard what he said, but it doesn't mean I believe it," he all but growls. "That's not the first time I've heard someone ramble about hybrids. Saying shit like that only stirs up riots. It's happened too many fucking times and caused too many innocent people to die."

  I draw my legs to my chest and rest my head against my knees. "But it could be true," I whisper. "I mean, we know something's wrong with me. Maybe my blood really is different, and that's why I heal so fast ... because I'm a monster."

  "Stop that." His sharp tone causes me to jump. "Don't ever say that again. Different or not, you're not a monster."

  His defending me only makes me feel worse. He has risked his life for me so many times, and he doesn't even realize what he's trying to save. I'm not just a Nameless. I have evil blood inside me, pumping my heart, keeping me alive.

  Guilt strangles me by the throat, and before I can stop myself, I sputter, "That's not the only reason I think I might have Grim blood in me. Mable ... she said ... my blood is ... different."

  When he doesn't say anything, I peer up between my arms.

  He looks completely unbothered. I don't understand his reaction. Did he not hear me?

  "I already knew that." He steadily holds my gaze. "I overheard Mable tell you."

  My pulse quickens. "You overheard her? How? We were in a room with steel walls."