Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4) Page 5

  In a blink she’s back, the same girl, handing me the bag as if nothing happened. “Thanks,” I say slowly. “But, that’s okay. I’ll eat from somewhere else.” On my pivot, she lurches across the counter and grabs my arm.

  “It doesn’t stop here. Help me too,” she begs in a whisper, but only she and I are in the restaurant.

  I wrench my arm from her grasp. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please?” she begs, eyes widening. “I didn’t ask for this.” Her neck cricks and her expression changes in an instant; from distress to that of a glorified achievement. With a smile wider than her shoulders, she gloats, “I love this new look! Don’t you?” She twirls around, her hands propped on her hips. “This one was courtesy of M. Moore himself. He’s helped me and three others get these fresh looks.” Leaning over the counter, she adds, “It’s Tracey, right? I remember your face.”

  I take a step back from the counter to give me enough room to blast her if needed. “From where?”

  As she shakes her head, her expression changes. She cracks her neck. “Nothing. You want to eat somewhere else? Okay.” She shrugs and retracts the bag of food.

  Hurriedly, I leave and get back in the car. “Where’s our food,” Carmen asks.

  “We have to eat from somewhere else.” I turn up my nose and add, “I saw bugs, like, everywhere.”

  “Ew!” The two say. “Good call,” Carmen adds. “Somewhere else it is,” Little Nathan seconds.

  I don’t want to panic them. Things have finally settled down around us, no more bodies are piling up and no one has come to attack us. Ever since that thing looked in my eyes after that quarrel at my old apartment, there’s been nothing. Just the way I like it. I’ve been waiting for nothing for a long time. If ignoring that Faylamen will keep us at nothing, then I saw nothing but bugs in that place.

  We settle on burgers and eat them at home, circled around each other with our books splayed on the family room floor. I clutch my pen tighter to keep my hands from shaking and tuck the other beneath my notebook. The Thai food girl is heavy on my mind, and I can’t help but worry that something is coming—that nothing I was longing for is turning into something wicked.

  A large plate of sushi sits in the middle of us, along with Textbooks, scrap paper, and pens scattered around the living room floor. We study with the radio on low and the three of us bouncing ideas off each other.

  Tracey? summons me. A familiar call I’ve not heard for years. Hey, Tracey? A heat of relaxation eases my anxiety but pricks me with goosebumps.

  Sitting up, I respond, Nathan?

  There’s a chuckle. His familiar throaty laugh Hey beautiful.

  I rise to my feet and head out the back door, going in the direction I feel him pulling me. Stepping in the snow, I wrap my hands around my naked arms to combat the frosty breeze. Where are you?

  Remember the field with the flowers, where I ran us to that one time? There.

  On my way. I take off. Fresh snow crunches between my toes, winter’s wind bites my cheeks, and the night’s suddenly my friend as I climb through the darkness and make my way to my light.

  A familiar area surrounded by a lopsided circle of trees and blanketed with foot printed snow brings back some of the greatest memories I thought I’d let evaporate. “Nathan?” I call, leaning against a cold tree to catch my breath. The bark peels away from the trunk, tumbling onto my bare foot. There’s this and the breeze rustling loose snow from naked branches, but beyond this, it’s silent.

  The forest is still, no critters scammer across the ground or rustle bushes. I’m only accompanied by the half-moon giving light to what appears to be a lonely forest.

  Disheartened, I lean my back against the tree and take in the way the stars lighten the sky. I bet there are a billion wishes up there, kissed by a star, but answered by the scorching sun.

  “They’re beautiful, right?” From the other side of the field, Nathan emerges through the trees, crunching snow announcing his arrival. I meet him halfway, hand extended to clutch his. We touch, fingers gliding over each other’s palms before we’re grasped in the other’s embrace.

  Soft eyes, full lips, broad shoulders, all the features of my mate. I want to think. I want to have a single presumption about this act of fate, this supernatural occurrence. But there’s nothing. The sky’s circling a mile a second as we stand still on Earth, living a moment of impracticality. “You’re real,” I say, breathlessly.

  He snorts a laugh. “Of course.”

  Shrugging, I admit, “I had my doubts with the lack of you around and seeing—”

  “Don’t always believe what you see. Just because you see it, doesn’t make it real.” He nods in the direction he came. “Let’s take a walk.”

  I nod, stepping as he does.

  We tread through the cold, hand-in-hand, climbing over fallen trees and mounds of snow. I shiver, wishing I’d grabbed a coat.

  My hand is secured in Nathan’s as he helps me over another log, but when we break contact, nothing leaves with them. No comfort from his touch, no warmth. . .

  I lift my gaze from the snow to the back of his head, studying the peculiar presence that’s attached to him. There’s a glitch in his appearance when I blink.

  I snatch my hand from his grasp and prepare myself for the sting that will follow, but there’s none. “Huh?” I mutter under my breath, going unheard.

  He trudges onward, not seeming at all concerned about our disconnect.

  With another blink, it happens again. His appearance alters, but it doesn’t change long enough for me to catch it. Willing the revealing film to blanket my eyes, I squeeze my lids shut and prepare myself for the heartbreak.

  I open my eyes.

  And there he is.

  Nathan.

  Every facet about my mate walks before me, from the echo of his breaths to the stride of his steps. Everyone has been telling me to open my eyes, to see more, and all I see is Nathan. But my body denies it.

  Nathan’s hand, once extended behind him, clutched as though he were still holding mine, is now before his eyes. He appears to stare at it and then stops to look behind him. At me. “What?” he asks.

  Shivering, my teeth clatter as I say, “Something’s wrong. You’re dead,” I add, maybe more for me than him.

  He stares me down; a piercing glower that cuts through my chest. “Prove it,” he states in a voice that rattles my spine.

  “I’m trying to,” I say more to myself, unable to figure out why I can’t see through this, I can’t feel it, or why my ability isn’t helping me see what he’s hiding.

  Comfortably, Nathan steps before me, separating us by only inches. He takes my hand. “You don’t have to doubt me, Tracey. I know there’s enough you don’t understand, but you’ve taken a leap with me this far, don’t stop now.”

  An echo of Chislon’s voice reminds me of temptation, reminding me of how I can hold myself back from seeing the truth, because yes, I want him back badly. Even though everything is perfect—nearly perfect—I’ll take the curse if it means having Nathan.

  Taking a breath, I drag my eyes closed and back open. Before I lift my gaze to his face, a deadly low voice asks, “Are you not happy with the being I’ve presented to you?” Its tone is a hushed rasp, H’s hard, S’s soft and long. Though with Nathan’s face, the eyes are now the color of space; a million miles of nothing sprinkled with tiny specs of light. “Be satisfied with what you get, Tracey Warren. Come willingly,” he warns.

  Coupled calls of my name ring out through the forest. I breathe to call back, but the man stops me, throwing up his index finger. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tracey. Please, come with me.” Sober eyes narrow to an unworthy beg as the muscles in his face soften. It’s an expression I’m far too familiar with; one Nathan wore when he was on the cusps of delivering bad news, but hid it right before he released the words. “I’m begging you.”

  “Here,” I utter, hoping Little Nathan and Laine can hear my whisper.

 
The imposter shakes his head, and I will the film over my eyes to finally see what’s before me. Shaded by a hooded cloak, a new, empty eye looks back at me. Half of a face—bone-pale and black lips with an eye to match. The other half . . . the one that’s haunted many dreams from my past—coated in a flowing shadow that currents around only the right side of his face. It drifts in no particular direction, just over its skeletal, circling more so in the eye and mouth. I hold my gasp, feeling it stall in my throat.

  “You see?” the Qualm asks in a stingingly hushed voice.

  I shake my head and suck in a deep breath to relax my rising panic.

  “You may not view what is present to you. Come, Tracey. Let me show you things you do not see.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” I say, stuffing my hands in my back pockets. “I actually need to get going.”

  “How could you be so sure if you know not what it is?” Outstretching his hand, he sweeps it in front of me as if to present something before us. “You don’t have to leave for this to be seen, Seeing.” His hand or arm or bones alone press against my back and pushes me forward.

  I ready myself for anything, keeping my eyes cloaked and prepping my hands.

  “As I said, I do not want to hurt you.” With the wave of his hand, the snow beneath us beams with light and projects a scene as if a projector were broadcasting from above.

  A gloomy background of a sunburned sky, raining rays of red and orange come to view. Deep gray trees, dead from time or force, stand intact, branches dressed with leaves of the same. A warm breeze brushes my skin as though I were physically there.

  A woman who looks like me but with eyes an exotic mixture of dark orange, yellow, and red that glows through permanently cloaked eyes stands proudly, a look of surety in her expression, confidence in her stance. Her spine’s as straight as a pin, and she wears a white-gold necklace with a reflective hematite crystal resting against her chest. Black palms face a crowd of kneeling celebrants, her skin’s matt in an olive complexion—smooth and irradiated by that of the sky. She’s dressed in silk the color of amber, gown resting on her flesh as if it were skin. With another look in her eyes, it’s not pride within them, but a promise—a threat—that warns these worshipers and whoever else may look upon them that she is the protector of her black-hearted king. She ensures nothing will bring him and her harm. Her, a malevolent queen.

  For her king. . . I dare not mention what I see. It’s far worse than anything I could imagine, than anything I would think to ask. He’s not only Burdened, ruled by his beast, but he’s not flushed in red, nor does his eyes swirl night blue. As a man, living among his beast, they’re one; assertive and as a god among men. Invincible, I read in the magnified eyes of the bystanders. They wash his feet in the blood of babes and praise his head with riches of wealth. Neither he nor his beast seem pleased with the acts as he watches the woman, waits for her. I can’t make out what he’s waiting for her to do though. But his admiring gaze remains fixed on her.

  These people . . . these humans and creatures alike, they fear the two. They tremble at their feet, tears bleed from their eyes, and yet, they desire them.

  “They need you,” the Qualm says.

  My rightful place is to reveal; to show truth, desires, and needs. To open the eye of their minds so they may reach deeper dimensions of realism and the physical, and much more I’m too afraid to say. For Nathan, though they fear him, they love him to a higher degree than any man should know love. He takes care of the people and their land, but for those who are less than favorable, their punishment is worse than death.

  There’s so much death, too much envy and desire for the like of their king. To be loved to this great of a degree is a scary status to uphold. “Who would want this? Is this what you’re trying to get out of me?” I retract, but the boney arm presses to my back, preventing me from getting too far. “I don’t want to see anything else. I don’t care to rule over anyone. We all should be free and never burdened by someone or something, not even ourselves.”

  The Qualm looks down at me. “Tracey, we require your gift. You have the ability to change the world. I reveal to you what will happen based on your current path.” With a wave of his hand, the scene in the snow changes, showing glimpses of the past and maybe future. They change too fast to catch. They’re of me, older, with my family, the entirety of my family; Mom and Dad, Nathan and Natalia. Mr. Newcomb too. I’ll take him back if I can have Nathan. If I can have my mother back . . .

  I warm up to the idea. “How?” I ask. “How can I have this?”

  “Your choices decide your future. We will help you gain all of this if that’s all you desire,” it says. “Come with me, and you’ll have it all. Your love, your mother, happiness. These things are little to require.” Convincingly, it adds, “We will help you obtain them.”

  Floored by the thought of having my family in my arms, desperately I ask, “How? My mate is dead. What you show can’t be real.”

  “Not yet,” it drags. “There is much placed before you that you do not understand. Through your sight reveals knowledge beyond any man’s understanding. Come with me and let me show you things you have not seen. We will not only help you grasp an understanding of your gift, but we will also bring your mate back with it. The only thing standing in your way of that, is you.”

  I shuffle away from him, stumbling in the hardening snow. “What’s your play here? How are you benefiting from this?”

  “Tracey.”

  We look to my left.

  In the fog, Chislon stands, moonlight glazing over the smooth, caramel complexion of Tarleton’s face. “You have no place here,” he tells the Qualm. A hiss spits from the Nathan impersonator, seeming fearful of Chislon. “You have no place here, fiend!” Chislon barks loudly, a threat sticking at the end of his demand.

  Turning his attention to me, the Qualm says, “You should remember your choices, Tracey. They make you what you are, and are the only things that can change your present, future, and your past. With us, you can obtain a new existence. Remember what you desire. We will help you secure this.” He turns to Chislon and in a blink of an eye, his body jerks backward, sucked up by the night.

  Laine and Little Nathan burst through the trees but halt seeing there’s no danger.

  “You are not a gift to them. You are a tool,” Chislon says. “You are a weapon in anyone’s hands, remember that. Your gift of sight is only a gift for you. Let it be linked with that of death and you will become far more powerful than you know. There are some things you must discover on your own, I can only relay so much.” His hands clasp in front of his crotch, but he shakes his head, and as if realizing he took the wrong stance, he adjusts to cross his arms in front of his chest. “There is a darkness coming. It is not Faylamen, and it is not only the entities you and your mate encountered. It is something greater, something worse. And you, Tracey, hold a key to that darkness being unleashed. Remember what you have learned so far. Do not be fooled or persuaded by temptation, it will be detrimental to you. Do not be fooled by love, it will be the death of you. And do not be destroyed by death, because it will be your slayer.”

  I look away from Chislon to the darkness where the Qualm departed. I would’ve sworn that was Nathan, and if it weren’t for the lack of warmth, I probably would’ve followed him into that darkness. I don’t know, maybe, even if Chislon wouldn’t have shown up, with the promise of having Mom, Dad, and Nathan back, I would’ve gone with him.

  “I know it’s hard,” Chislon starts.

  I cut him off. “It wasn’t hard,” I mumble, but repeat with more aggression, “It was not hard. Living was finally easy! The way things ended up, being without my air, was okay. It’s not hard, it’s damn near impossible to deal with.” A burn in my nose crawls to my throat, but I fight back the tears and release my words with more hostility. “Every dream is of him, with every breath I breathe I smell him, every time I move a limb or fill my chest with air a healed part of me rips apart again. Every second of e
very minute of every hour I’m reminded that my mate is dead because the damn bond refuses to let me live without him. Every day I think how much lesser the pain would be if I just gutted myself on the kitchen floor, or piled my pockets with rocks and sank to the bottom of the lake. So, if I hear his voice, and by some miraculous miracle feel his presence, am I so wrong for seeing it through?”

  “Black Eyes, Nathan is dead,” Laine argues, charging across the snow. “Anything like him is a ploy. No matter what you hear or how good it feels. Get that through your head!” he says, jabbing his index finger against his temple.

  I wipe a tear from the side of my nose. “Thanks for that, Laine.”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what she needs to hear,” Little Nathan sarcastically utters. He throws a coat around my shoulders. “You will get sick if you don’t at least grab a jacket when you want to roam the woods.” I meet his eyes and accommodate his banter with a soft smile.

  Behind us, Laine thanks Chislon for his help, but I don’t hear either of them walk away. Now, Laine’s at our side, bickering until Little Nathan shuts him down.

  “You’ll never understand what she’s going through,” he angrily declares. “Nemanites can’t grasp bonding or the breaking of a bond. While, to you, getting over it may seem easy, it’s not. Stop scolding her and being such a dick about this.” Little Nathan pivots but turns back, matter-of-factly adding, “We all know my brother is dead. You reiterating that over and over again doesn’t make us feel better about it. Just worse about you.” His words stop Laine in his tracks.

  By the time we make it back to the house, my fingers and toes are frozen and my nose is raw. I wrap myself in blankets and lay in front of the fireplace, watching the fire tell a story with its dancing flames. Is it so wrong for me to want something unattainable? Do we all not dream of having things that may seem a little absurd, and once an inkling of that dream reveals itself in our reality, are we wrong for chasing after it? The result of my actions may have had a bad ending, but my mistake showed me that these things cannot only possess my friends but also take on their appearances.