Chapter 7
She was sleeping—or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe she’d died and this was what her afterlife would be like.
Everything was covered in fresh green grass and blue skies. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and even though the sun shined it wasn’t too bright. The warmth kissed her skin and she closed her eyes letting the small breeze flow over her and the sun warm her cold skin.
This had to be the end. It was too perfect, and that meant things were no good.
“Dallas,” a deep voice whispered in her head.
She should know that voice. It was so familiar yet not.
Where did she know that voice?
“Dallas!” The voice came louder and much more urgent.
She peeled her eyes opened and looked around the place she was slowly coming comfortable with. It wasn’t where she belonged. There was something else she should be doing.
The problem.
She had no idea what. She could remember her life from months ago, but if she thought back, the last thing that was in the forefront was her sister telling her not to move.
“Move where?” she muttered.
It was right there on the verge, but as she walked along the grass barefooted, the foggy her mind became. The grass tickled her toes and she looked down only to realize her feet were translucent, but they were her normal feet. She gasped when she realized her skin was no longer smooth and pale. It was covered in scales—blue scales.
And she had claws.
A memory tugged at her mind.
“Wake up sweetheart, it’s not time to go.”
Her eyes widened.
Blane.
She stretched her eyes opened as wide as possible hoping that would somehow wake her up.
Finally, she realized. Blane had stood her up—then he came to apologize but he fell, and then—
And then what?
She had no recollection after that.
“Help me,” she yelled into nothingness. If he could talk to her certainly she could talk to him. There had to be a way out of this. And apparently, she wasn’t dead.
That was good. She nodded and straightened the dress she wore.
Looking down she frowned. This wasn’t like anything she’d ever wear. It was white and fell below her knees. When the breeze picked up it flowed in small circles. It was far too girly for her taste. White always made her paler.
***
“Help me.”
He heard her loud and clear and when he looked to the others he realized they heard too.
“Well shit,” Max said, only this time his normal sarcastic demeanor was missing. “How the hell do we help her? This is almost like what happened to Zarin.”
“Fuck dude, no one put a magic spell on her. Not like Bev did.” Zarin replied and Blane heard the faint bitterness to his tone.
He’d almost died in a magically induced coma. It had taken Willow to save him. He wondered if he would have to astral to Dallas. It would be worth it, but afterwards he’d be useless. And he only had four days until he had to present Bev to the Witch’s council.
Dallas was priority, but he made a commitment. He would do both.
“So, I just do what Wil did. I got to her and help her remember why she has to come back—”
“Before it’s too late.” Max plucked the blanket from Dallas and at first, he wanted to rip his hand off until he saw what his friend was showing them.
Her skin was fading. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. It was almost as if she was fading away, like she was in the middle of dying.
He growled and his claws extended.
‘She cannot die.’
He knew that. There had to be a way and he would find it, lucky for him, he wasn’t alone. He had the tribe, and once a mate came into the picture she was family. They would help him save her before it was too late, and by the looks of things it didn’t seem like they had much time.
Blane left his wall perch and eased closer to his mate. As soon as he sat on the edge of the couch a state of relief washed over him. Even under the circumstances just being close to her was all it took to calm him beast. His beast stopped pacing and sniffed. He found himself leaning over her. His braid escaped its normal ponytail and grazed her cheek. She sighed.
He looked at her pale face memorizing the lines from the strain she suffered on a daily basis. No one else in the room said a word. He inhaled and pressed his cheek to hers.
His beast whined.
‘Summerland.’
Blane froze. He didn’t even breath. The way his beast said that one word was enough for him to realize things were bad.
“Summerland.” He repeated out loud.
“What the hell is Summerland?” Max broke the otherwise quiet in the room.
He balked when Blane glared at him. “Summerland is where Supes go when they pass on. Before their final death. She’s so close to being gone.”
And that was now the giant elephant in the room. If she was in Summerland, getting her back would be next to impossible, and now he had a request from the Witch’s council, because there was no way he had the power to bring her back. From what he’d read about the afterlife, Summerland was a place of the Supe’s dreams. It was the in between and lured them into a state of bliss so they wouldn’t want to go back
Free will and all. But it wasn’t what it seemed. Everything was perfect on the surface until a clear choice was made—then it could become the Supe’s hell. He didn’t need it to get that far for Dallas. If it did she was as good as stuck, and there wasn’t anything he or anyone else, for that matter, could do about it. He needed to move fast.
He refused to lose his mate. He’d rather die than live out his long life alone knowing he’d lost his only real chance at happiness.
No, not going to happen.
‘Let’s save our sleeping beauty.’
He and the beast had never been in such agreement. He needed Dallas. His beast needed Dallas.