Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4) Read online

  To lose a mate . . . Again, it is a cancer, one that not even time or medication will cure.

  Little Nathan and I found this studio apartment in the middle of the city, away from any relative and remains. It’s a hole in the wall, but the gritty wallpaper, stale air, and my pallet of sheets and quilts bunched up in the middle of the aged-wood floor is my new home. I could live here the rest of my life and find fulfillment.

  “You’re okay,” Little Nathan whispers encouragingly, rubbing my back.

  I draw back and avoid looking him in his eyes. He’s a replica of Nathan, as tall as he was, voice an octave lower than his, and chocolate eyes I’ve looked in and swore they were my mate’s. “See you later.”

  “I’ll stay here with you tonight, Tracey,” Laine says. “They ordered a manhunt for you, and in case they locate you, we don’t want you defenseless.”

  I shake my head. “It’ll be fine. They won’t find me. None of you need to stay here,” I say, sitting back on the pillow. Picking up my cast-iron mug, I take a drink of tap water and then say, “I’m fine.”

  Laine narrows his eyes. “This isn’t up for debate. They have eyes everywhere, hounds out with Nathan’s scent sewn in their nostrils. You catch your scent at this building’s door,” he argues, pointing at his exit. “You’re powerless against them, nothing to guard yourself and stop them from snatching you again. Lunis and the Qualms haven’t given up on you, we won’t either.”

  “Let’s not forget about the Faylamen, and they’re just along for the ride because of Michael.”

  I plop my elbows on the table and throw my hands in my face. “My mate is dead! What more could they want from me?”

  Laine grumbles and his heavy Australian accent makes his voice deeper. “The same thing they’ve always wanted.”

  “One Nemanite won’t be enough to take them on if they find you. We—”

  Another knock on the door cuts Olar off. Silence steals the room as we look in its direction. I wrap my arms around my middle as a change in temperature pinches my flesh.

  Little Nathan goes to the door, floor creaking under every step. Hand wrapped around the knob, he rips the door open, and at first glance of our visitor, he stumbles away as if he’d seen a ghost. “I. I don’t understand,” he stutters.

  I jump to my feet and race to the door, hopeful for who may be on the other side. Stumbling to a stop once I’m in the door’s opening, I snap my mouth shut and let my disappointment murder my optimism.

  “My sincerest condolences for your loss,” the vaguely familiar stranger briefly bows his head. As he rises he meets my eyes, and I stiffen.

  Nervously I tremble, palms sweating as a million thoughts race through my mind. Words being spoken by different people from a mixture of memories help form sentences for the intruder to speak through me. I am Chislon, they say, only a friend of trust, not deceit. This body I wear became available when the Qualms used it to attract you and your mate. I am not here to hurt you, and I want nothing from you. I would like to offer some information I believe may be helpful.

  That’s where I recognize you. Tarleton, Nathan’s friend, I’m able to think.

  All hope is not gone. There is a cure, and you will not gain it while being alone. Your enemies have known of your whereabouts for quite some time but have had no reason, until now, to seek you out. As your friend stated, they have used every avenue to locate you, and something as simple as the lingering of your mate’s scent embedded in your skin has led them straight here. It is time to move, and quickly. You cannot fight them off alone, nor will the four of you be enough.

  I don’t plan on fighting anyone, I say. Anything, I add.

  That anything to which you refer are Qualms, a half-breed creature from another dimension that forced their way into this world. Half outward soul and Ghoul, its appearance reveals exactly what it is. A fiend, and there is no mistaking what they want. And you, Tracey, have a gift they need. One that you have held from birth but would not reach half of its potential until you mated, and will not meet the max of its potential until what may seem like the inevitable. Gifts gained by mating, mating itself is eternal, so do not set them aside.

  Things are not always as they seem, the voices continue for him. Use what is available to you to see through what this world is forcing you to believe. Do not give in to temptation and avoid the enemy under all circumstances. They are two steps ahead of you at every turn. This matters greatly, as there are many people relying on you to come out of this on the other side, including me. Be wise and be strong.

  Memories of patient faces fade in and out. The eyes of the people from my past blink as they await my response. It’s difficult to wipe away something that’s held me down for so long. It hurts, I tell him. Everything hurts all the time.

  A memory surfaces with someone nodding as the voices say, It will continue to hurt. While your mind believes your mate is dead, it is hard for your body to come to terms with such. You will find a way to overcome the pain. Believe in you.

  A deafening snap of thunder strikes me silent, and I crumple to the floor. My head feels like it’s splitting in two. With it clutched between my arms, I lay on my side, drawing my knees to my chest.

  “Just because your eyes are open, doesn’t mean you’re seeing,” Chislon whispers near my ear. Before anyone can lay a finger on him, he disappears.

  Two times are better than one

  Sometimes I wish it were possible to go back and retrace my steps and find out what decisions brought me to where I am today. And if I could, and I chose a different path, would anything change?

  I have made it through so many tomorrows without this worry of something coming for me. Now, every time I blink I see the events that led me to this moment. The worst of them being seeing Nathan fall to the ground with pools of his black blood staining the concrete beneath him, and hearing the echoes of Lana, Laine, and my screams bouncing off the walls. Then it’s that shield. Every time I lift my hand, I’m reminded of the invisible glass-like barrier that held me back from saving Nathan.

  I couldn’t save him.

  On the other hand, when I leave my eyes closed long enough, I pander in his smile and feel Nathan’s touch graze my neck. The warmth of his body fights the cold of my lonely studio apartment. I want to cry for him, craving for it to be real. Instead, I sigh and let the loss settle in again so I don’t forget he’s actually gone.

  It is the loss that keeps me away more than the fear for our enemies. I can’t admit that to Olar. And remembering my mate’s gone is like a trickling effect that brings a reminder that I also lost Mom, Dad, Glen, Scott, and myself.

  Laine extends his hand to me. “I don’t need your help,” I say, climbing to my feet. “I can do this on my own.” I take in his white eyes, sorrowfully glaring at me. “Everything was fine before you followed Little Nathan here, and you.” I gesture at Olar. “How’d you find out where I was anyway?”

  “By smelling for Nathan. No matter what you do, you’ll forever be a part of our family. You didn’t have to deal with that loss on your own, Tracey.”

  “She wasn’t on her own,” Little Nathan cuts in, putting the last of the canned foods in the cabinet. “She and I grew through it. She just didn’t want to go through it with the entire family. It was an ugly sight. No offense,” he says, throwing a glance at me. I shrug. He shifts his gaze back to Olar. “I figured watching Mom go through it, it’d be a breeze to help Tracey.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he bashfully adds, “I had my hands full.”

  Laine balls up the grocery bags and over the rummage says, “They’re bonding was still fresh. Alone, she likely would’ve killed herself. The rip apart is literal. And for a human, Tracey likely had it worse than any of us has ever known.”

  “Thanks for that extra input no one asked for,” Olar quips.

  I cross my freezing arms and look out the cloudy window at the passing cars. “If it’ll get you two to stop bickering, and the three of you to stop talking about me like I�
��m not standing here, I’ll leave with you. But there’s no guarantee I’ll stay.”

  It’s not been as long as I’ve made them believe since I’ve returned to that house—our house. Midnight, on a warmer night, nothing like today, I crept through the shadows and onto the porch. With just a graze of the doorknob, a vision struck me that stung so deeply the only life that existed was the dead. My mother, she laughed, crossing the threshold when I pushed open the door. My dad, he heaved Mom’s heavy luggage into the house. And Nathan, at my backside, whispered in my ear. I lived in that moment for a solid ten minutes, standing lonely on the porch, consumed by my happy, yet tormenting thoughts. A loose dog sniffing my ankle brought me back to reality. After that, I never considered going back again.

  I shake the memory away and lay my head against the backseat window. The icy glass brings relief to the rising anxiety. Passing cars and the blur of buildings are enough to distract me from reconsidering my departure. We’re only three miles away, and “turn back” keeps yelling in my mind.

  I hold my breath, keeping myself from breathing in the stale air. It stings when I suck in a lungful and burns as I release it. Like someone cleansed the world with ammonia. While the apartment confined me within its four walls, my reality was farther away than Australia, but now it feels closer than my skin.

  People milling about the city fly by as Laine drives a little over the speed limit. He comes upon an intersection and stops at a yellow light. There’s a couple exiting a store. The guy slips on a patch of ice and hits the ground, sending the girl into a fit of giggles. I nearly laugh, but it’s Laine going on about the Qualms this and Sephlem that, that boggarts my hint of humor.

  This threat of a prophecy that swept across the land of anxious creatures who wanted to own the lives or bodies of Nathan and me is what also kept me away. I doubt I’d be useful to anyone except the Grim Reaper, but after Nathan’s death, the only teary eyes were from our family. The Nemanites celebrated his death, and the Qualms began their attack against Sephlems. Little Nathan found out they were in search of the great one’s mate. Why? I still don’t know. To get this person, they possessed humans and Sephlems to a sickening degree. And because there’s some crazy belief out there that the great one’s mate is me, I fear for the life of my family. I don’t want them to endure any more loss either. So, that’s also why I went M.I.A. With me out of the picture, it would be assumed that I was lost to this world, and the Qualms would stop their hunting and their influence. It worked . . . at the time. The world went silent, and the possessing stopped. A couple plus years later however, something has driven them back into action.

  If they are hunting for me and it’s my scent that gives me away, why would it take them this long to find me? Why are they suddenly coming after me again?

  “Before we make it home, there’s something I want to show you,” Laine says. He pulls into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant that’s across the street from an urban office building splayed with tinted glass windows. He cuts the engine and meets my gaze in the rearview mirror.

  I drag the zipper of Little Nathan’s coat up to my neck and snuggle my chin beneath its collar. Stuffing my hands up the sleeves, I drag my gaze away from Laine’s, asking, “What?”

  His eyes soften. “Thank you.”

  I roll my eyes. Judging by the businesses of the inner city, and people milling through the snow, up and down the downtown streets, it’s a weekday. I recognize the building we face. Behind it is an unused underpass that gives access to its dungeon-like basement.

  Olar rubs my left shoulder, seeming to sense my discomfort at being around this place again. “A side of me doesn’t know if it was worth it. Losing Scott. . .” he mentions.

  “I guess we’ll never know.” Meeting his eyes, I add, “At least you’re happy. Right?”

  He shakes his head but holds his truth. “I don’t know if it’s her or me that’s the real enemy.”

  “Here! Now! Look!” Laine exclaims, pointing toward the building.

  A crowd of people with smiling faces quickly flood from the building as if someone called for ‘break’ at a construction plant.

  I ease between the driver and passenger seat to the front of the car, gazed fixed on a single individual.

  Collar length, honey-brown hair sways as a well-groomed Scott Fallon strides from the door and down the sidewalk with an older woman on his right. I swallow hard and sit back, hand falling away from the door handle. The thought of Glen, possessed, chasing me down the dark halls of an empty warehouse stops me from jumping out of the car and going after Scott.

  “It’s not Scott,” Little Nathan says. “It’s some kind of insertion. Every person who comes out of that building is dead. Or was. We’ve not figured it out yet, but we know it’s something Lunis is doing. He owns this building. We assume he and the Qualms are working together and possessing the living and the dead.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Laine turns in his seat to look at me. “Everything wants to live. Angels and demons. The Qualms are no different. Stuck between life and death, half here and half not, they’re clinging to life but strive off not only the malevolence of our world but the hope, and the virtuous.”

  These Qualms. . . We originally thought they were some kind of demon that wore a cloak to hide its malevolence. But as Chislon explained, they are more than that. They have stalked Nathan and me for these gifts we’ve been told we possess, but I can’t see what use they have for us because they’ve been getting along just fine.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask, “Just watching the show?”

  “No. I wanted you to see how serious this is. There’s a prophecy that warns of something similar, something only you can see through.”

  “How do you know it’s me, Laine?” I snap. “There’s nothing in any saying or prophecy that I’ve heard tell it’s me.” I try to remember it and can’t.

  “Just try to see something, Tracey,” Laine begs. “Was your ultimate plan just to ignore this? Just let the earth burn?”

  “Yes,” I mutter under my breath. “And hope I burn with it. Then, maybe, I’ll be reunited with Nathan,” I add.

  “What? In hell?” Laine counters my mutter with his own.

  “If that’s where I’d find him. . .” I lean forward and push Laine from my vision as I focus on the crowd moving in and out of the building across the street. I’ve not willed my eyes to help me see beyond someone’s mask, or within their intentions for so long, even as I try, nothing happens. I’ve been told abilities gained through mating never fade, but I feel nothing. Fire used to soar through my veins, the weaving and circling vines on my arms used to twist and swoop along my skin all the time. Like old tattoos, they lie lifeless against my flesh, shriveled and thin as dried vines would drape a dying tree in winter’s chill. Even as I try to spark the snake of fire that’s lived ferociously in my palm, it has suffocated, and when I snap the only thing that cracks is the silence.

  I sigh and sit back against the seat. “I tried, Laine. Nothing’s happening.”

  With a sigh of annoyance, Laine starts the engine, then drives away. I think to apologize, but I don’t. His main concern isn’t me or what I’ve dealt with, nor is it our family and the impact death has had on us. He’s a Nemanite and has had one responsibility since his birth and that is to limit the Burdened Sephlem and eliminate the cause of some prophecy no one can prove is true.

  A Drop in The Ocean

  “Can you cut on the radio?” I ask Laine, hating the intensity of the silence, sensing him, Little Nathan, and Olar all having something to say but neither of them spitting it out. I won’t pry it out of them.

  I should’ve stayed in the apartment.

  I’ve been clutching the door handle tightly in my hand. Jumping out of a moving car, though dangerous, may be freeing if I could escape them. Olar is the fastest of the three, and if I can outrun him, I’ll be set.

  Put yourself aside so the answers will be clear. Mom’s voice whisp
ers in my ear. You don’t know now, honey, but you will.

  I straighten my slouched spine, flesh prickling with goosebumps as I’m gripped with a wave of shivers. “No,” I say aloud, doubtful of any reason I’d be hearing my mother’s voice. “Please, no,” I beg, grabbing my head between my hands.

  Be strong, honey, she encourages. The twang of her Australian accent she tried to hide peeks out and nearly makes me smile. It almost comforts me. I can’t start believing the impossible when it’s proven to be so unreliable in my past.

  Angrily, I tell whoever’s imposing as my mom, My mother died years ago, alongside my father, because some resilient asshole literally gets his rocks off by torturing people for the hell of it. Who or whatever you are, find another corpse to fool, I’m too drained for this. My request, though light, makes me feel even heavier because my want for her is so great.

  Must I prove it to you? There’s a pause as I assume it awaits my response. I say nothing, and it chuckles lightheartedly. I sat behind you, braiding your hair one night, three Augusts ago. Our move was in four days, but our goodbyes began a week earlier. There was a secret in your eyes, it had been there for quite some time. I had made small talk, a question about your and Nathan’s evening. You were quiet. The communication between us had dwindled not long after you two became an item. It was because of this secret, one you later revealed. And once you did, the cloud that covered those gorgeous brown eyes lifted. For once in over a year, you were brighter than you’ve ever been. Those hallucinations had worn you down, they tore you apart. You were so cold, honey. But that day . . . The innocence, the warmth, the life—a cheerful life—had filled your cheeks with color, your eyes with amber, and your smile, sugar. My last day with you . . . It was uplifting to finally see the freedom in you. The freedom from those secrets, from the hallucinations, the freedom from yourself.