Chapter Eleven
Morgan
“It’s nice to get out of the house.” I follow Sam down a winding path. We walked out the front door, across the road and entered the park. “I miss trees, you know? We had so many back home.”
“I remember.” He grins. “I miss them too.”
I think about that. “Do you miss being a raven? Damien said that’s why he rides a motorcycle—for the sensation.”
“We’ve had many forms, but I think I like this one the best.” He squeezes my hand and I get a little flutter in my belly. Last night with him was amazing. Sex is one level of intimacy but the way he healed me…now that I know angels are real, I think Sam may be part one. My cheeks burn thinking about it and I can’t help but watch the way he moves.
He glances over, linking his thumb in the camera strap over his shoulder. “What?”
“You.” I watch a flock of pigeons fly overhead. “That was unexpected last night.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. You, the healing. The way you felt…” I swallow, “inside me. Can everyone do that? The healing part?”
He nods and it’s not nearly as awkward as it should be to discuss my increasing sex life with his co-guardians. “It’s just like how we absorb the Darkness. We’re here to serve you.”
We reach a bend in a wooded section of the park. Sam steps off the path and guides me to follow. We leave the bright sun behind for the shady trees. “What are we looking for again?”
“There’s a clearing on the other side. This is a shortcut. I wanted you to get a good view.”
“A good view of a possible gate?” Goosebumps rise on my arms and down my neck at the idea. I don’t like it.
“There’s something over here. I saw it the other day. Here, look.”
He stops and holds up his camera. Photos flip by as he presses the button. He slows and I see a series of shots that look similar to the area we’re in. He stops on one in particular and hands it over. I peer down at the image.
It’s a simple patch of grass, and picnickers are spread here and there. A few children and a dog are in the scene. In the back corner though I see a slight variation. It looks almost like a smudge but when I run my finger over the screen it’s still there.
“You think that’s it?”
“I can’t see it with my bare eye. Just the camera. I thought you may have a different reaction.”
I step over a large branch. “Why me?”
“If the Darkness is really on the other side of that thing it’s going to want to check you out.”
I freeze. “You want me to bring out the Darkness?”
“No.” He frowns. “Well…we’ve got to get a step ahead of this, Morgan.”
“So is this just another test, like Clinton taking me to that fight last night?” I don’t want to be a pawn. Not like this. Not by these men.
Sam must sense my shift in attitude. He reaches out and touches my cheek. I jerk back, not wanting to be consoled. “Hey,” he says, reaching for me. I pull away again but he fights back, wrapping his hands around my waist. “These aren’t tests. They’re reality. Are we going about them in a systematic way? Yes, because look what happened when you stumbled upon it on your own?”
“Xavier.”
“Right, Xavier. So, call it what you want, but I’m just here to check something out and have you help me. Sounds like a partnership to me.”
He releases me and walks off, hurt that I’d been suspicious. The farther he goes the more embarrassed I am at thinking badly of him and his motives. I give myself a moment to shake off the attitude but when I look up he’s gone. I start moving through the woods going in the direction I thought he’d taken. I step to the right and a voice in my head whispers, wrong way.
I know the voice. It’s the voice that urged me to kiss Xavier. The one that taunted me in the fight with Hildi. It’s the Morrigan, and fear ripples down my limbs.
“Sam!” I call, picking up my pace and chasing him down. As much as I want to ignore her I follow her directions, pretty sure he’s going to the place she wants me to be. I catch up to him at the edge of the field. He’s still in the shade when I reach him but I’m nearly struck down when I feel the blast of cold air blow through the air.
“Did you feel that?” I ask, running my hands up and down my arms. It’s still late summer. It’s hot out and everyone in the area is wearing shorts and T-shirts, including me and Sam. But that’s not what I feel and I shiver when another gale rips through the trees.
“No, what?”
“The cold air? The breeze? It feels like the arctic out here.”
His green eyes widen and he pulls out his camera, the shutter clicking even before he’s got it pointed in the right direction. I scan the field and I realize quickly I don’t need his filter to show me the gate. It’s clearly visible to me in the middle of the field. Dark and shimmery. Part this world and part another.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. My feet move, stepping from the woods and in the direction of the gate. The click of the camera fades, the voices of the children playing disappear. The grass crunches beneath my feet, brittle from the cold. I ignore the burning sensation of the charm around my neck and the ring on my finger.
Step inside little sister, she coaxes. See what the Otherside has to offer.
I do take a step forward. Not intentional but more like my feet are being pulled like magnets. There’s no hesitation, just a strong, insistent pull. I don’t fight it. I can’t.
(Do I want to?)
The air grows colder, harsher. My eyelashes freeze. The sky is the color of coal and smells like dry, charred ash. I feel the grit on my skin, taste it on my tongue. But then, the strangest thing happens. I feel warm under my skin. A deep energy that crackles with the twitch of my muscles.
Welcome home, the voice says.
I blink and gray slithers beneath my feet, heading out the gate and into my world. The worlds battle, a hazy fight over space. A weight tugs at my hand and I lift my arm and see the glint of my sword. Leather creaks and I look down to see my outfit has changed. I’m in warrior dress. Sleek leather skirt and leggings. Bone-crushing boots. The sword hums in my hand and the incessant voice murmurs in my ear, “That sword belongs to you, Morgan. To this world. It’s the weapon for a warrior—a goddess. It was created to take the life of your enemies. It pierced the heart of Cu, after he ripped yours out of your chest. Still beating. Still bloody. Still loving. Do you really trust these Guardians with their weak magic and secretive ways? Their tricks and seduction. Are they any different than Cu? Will they allow your righteous place when the gate falters? Will you lead them in battle or will you fight against them?”
“Shut up.”
“What makes you think they’re any better? That they won’t betray you? Use them to gain your strength, to further your knowledge, and then fight with me. Unleash the rage deep in your soul. My soul. Together we can conquer your world as well as this one.”
I stare out into the desolate landscape and notice a dark spot on the horizon. I wave my sword and the sky clears, still a slate gray but less sand and wind. I take another step forward and squint. Unless I’m imaging it, imaging all of it, there’s a castle in the distance.
“Morgan!” a voice cries in my ear. Feeling an intense pull, I take another step, wanting to see the castle. In a blink I realize the lure isn’t the gate. No, it’s the castle.
“Morgan!”
I’m jerked physically, but dig the heels of my boots into the dusty ground. I swing an elbow behind me, at the hands tugging me away. Away from this world. Away from my destiny. The sword glints and I clench my hand around the hilt.
Kill them.
“You don’t own me!” I shout, raising it over my head in a lethal swing. The blade slices between the worlds, the sunlight offering a blinding reflection before it comes back to me in the gray of the Otherside. The hands reappear, four of them, and I use my feet as well as my hands. Into the cold air I shout, “No!” only wanting to get to that castle. Only wanting to get home.
My feet are swiped beneath me and I land hard on my back. The sword falls when my elbow strikes the hard, frozen ground. I struggle. I scream. Words of anger and rage passing over my lips. And when the air turns from bitter cold to scorching heat I’m sure the world has ended.
My world has ended.
Two hands hold me by the thighs and other by the shoulder. I squint into the too-bright light. “How dare you,” I breathe, but the words sound foreign and the faces that appear belong to the men sent by the gods to protect me.
Sam and Dylan.
Their muscles strain and I realize I’m still fighting. Who? I don’t know. Why? I haven’t the faintest other than it’s important. Very important.
“Morgan!” Dylan shouts, his voice carrying an edge I’ve never heard before. I clench my jaw and swallow back the pain, the voice inside.
Another set of hands touches my face. Glasses and copper hair. “Morgan? You with us?”
His thumb, dipped in something slippery and wet, makes a mark on my forehead. The mark burns, so hot I start screaming, then a hand covers my mouth and I see rather than hear Bunny say, “I’m sorry,” before the pain is too much and I pass out.