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

  “Who came after you?”

  “The Nemanites! They hunt Burdeneds, even Sephlems, without remorse. They strip them and will kill them and everyone they love if they must. They are the ones who are the beasts, they are death!” she hollers, pointing in the direction of the door. “Not nearly as bad as demons,” she follows more calmly.

  “My mate is alive?”

  The woman nods.

  “And, because of this prophecy, I’m supposed to ignore this?”

  She shakes her head. “Because you love him, if you were to see him again, or be brought with the option to be with him, you are to decline it, by all means. No matter the cost.”

  “Would you?”

  She purses her lips and looks me head on. “Open your eyes,” she instructs.

  Understanding, I blink and this time the tint leaves. Her gray, marble-like eyes meet mine as she says, “For the safety of my children, after they were taken away from me, I kept my distance. My children have had children and their children have children, and what I wouldn’t give to hug one of them. Every day, I wonder if I made the right decision so many years ago. Should I have gone after them? Maybe. . . but then what, they go after my children to prove a point, seeing both were Burdened. Or, I stay away, let them live their lives without the burden of their blind mother two steps too close to dying because she mated with a Burdened Sephlem.” Within her eyes, I see her family. A woman who resembles a younger version of her, a man nearly a foot taller than her, and a child. She had her baby shortly after they gouged her eyes out, and the Nemanites took her. She’s watched her children from afar, a constant warning telling her she’ll put a target on their heads because even though they may not have been the Seeing of Death, their offsprings may have been and to her, that was enough to stay away.

  “When you love someone, you become selfless.” I blink and cloak my eyes.

  “A mother’s love. . . As I said, I would give my life to hug one of my grandchildren, but not theirs. They’ll never stop watching or searching for the Seeing of Death. Never trust a Nemanite. They have one mission and nothing and no one will tear them away from that.”

  Swallowing hard, I stand. “Thanks for the water. . .”

  “Tara.”

  “Thanks for the water, Tara. Sorry about what happened to your family.”

  She rises, taking the cups with her. “It was long ago, a wound that will never seal, but I live with it because I know it’s the right thing to do. Enjoy your life, girl. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  On my way to the door, I turn back before grabbing the knob to ask, “What if we can change our fates? My mate, with me, was no beast. He tried to be a good guy and didn’t let his beast rule over him. What if the prophecy is based on the choice we make? We can choose to not be evil, which would be him choosing not to be Death.”

  Heading for her kitchen, she states, “No, girl. He can’t.”

  “But, what if? We make us who we are, not our families, or this world, or some damn prophecy.”

  She slams the mugs down, back to me. “No! It’s what he was born to become. No choice will change that. The darkness is in his blood, the beast is in his mind, the last stitch to opening his eyes to that power is you! Goodbye. Be stronger than your love.”

  Make it Rain

  I stumble off the porch and into the tall grass. A heavy gust of wind swells my hoody. It chills my naked arms stuffed up the sleeves. I tug at the collar as I struggle to get the car door open. It’s not until the second flip of the handle that I realize it’s still locked.

  Frustrated, I kick it. Over and over, I drive the sole of my boot against the door and slap my palm against the roof of the car.

  “Argh!” I scream, dropping into a squat, hands shoved through my mess of curls. I press my forehead to my knees and let my jeans soak up my tears. “What the actual hell?” I utter. Who is she to say what’s real or what’s not. . .? If—and this is a really big if. If Nathan has been alive all this time, why hasn’t he come for me? Nathan would tear down the world to get me, he’d sell his soul to the devil if it meant being by my side. Knowing this about my mate, I can’t believe he’d be out there and chose to remain separated.

  I wouldn’t.

  Tall blades of grass tickle my cheeks. I sit among them, and then I lie on my back, allowing them to shield me as I stare at the sky. A few meteors fly across the stoic blue splattered with stars.

  I close my eyes.

  Natalia’s voice whistles around me, as if it were blowing in the wind, ‘Nathan’s like a lion, Tracey.’ Yes, he was, and Nathan would refuse the comparison any time I’d bring it up. ‘I’m just a man,’ he’d insist, ‘at least, I wish I was,’ he’d add. I doubt he knew there were people out there who looked at him as such greatness. I doubt he’d even care. Now, Mr. Newcomb on the other hand, he’d sell his soul for that kind of recognition.

  Wind brushes over my body, slapping the grass against me. The tall blades wisp back and forth, scratching against each other like the sound of cricket legs. The vines on my body seem comforted by the rhythm. At their ease, I relax and find a comfort I could only access through the caress of my mate.

  Zipping my hoodie up to my neck and flipping my hood over my head, I blanket the chill of night. The sky is so close I can touch it, and when I lift my hand, it’s as if my fingers dip into its pool of scattered glitter. The stars ripple like a pond, and I find solace in its waves.

  We’re on spring break next week. The term alone makes my skin crawl. So many memories crowd my mind as I consider the time off. Keeping busy has made things so much easier, and I need that. An idle mind is the devil’s playground, and the last thing I need is to attract any more evil.

  It takes for me to gnaw my teeth through my bottom lip to keep back the memories of Glen and how much I wish I had her here now, to combat the yearn for my mom to throw her arms around me and listen as she coos, ‘I love you, honey.’ My dad even, so many apologies I wish I could pay back in our last year together. If I would’ve just gone to Tennessee.

  Nathan definitely would’ve moved with me, and I hate I didn’t consider that then. Grant it, I know how much he wouldn’t want to leave his family, but really? He would’ve left them if I’d ask. He could’ve traveled and still managed his company. I just knew how important things were to him, and I selflessly put that before myself.

  Rising to my feet, I mutter, repeating Tara’s words. It just seems wrong that she’d make that call because I can’t guarantee if I see Nathan, ever, that I’d turn away from him.

  I wrap my arms around my cramping stomach. The sickness starts in the pit of my gut and uneasily works its way to my throat. I hunch over, as a dark matter charging from my mouth burns my throat, tongue, and then my lips. I go again and again until my stomach heaves and nothing comes out. Scraping my hand across my mouth, it’s crumby, like sand. I squat down to the pile at my feet and take it in my hand. It’s also sand. I wipe my palm off on my jeans as I rise to my feet.

  The crow perches on the roof of the car, and as the wind blows, it disintegrates and blows away with it, as does the surrounding town, cottages included. I twist around and find myself in the middle of a clearing encompassed by miles of trees, save the bridge I crossed to get here.

  “What . . . ?” I take a few steps toward where Tara’s home was. “Did I just hallucinate that?” I mutter. The stealthy feeling that slithered over my skin when the sand from the hourglass attacked me is gone. “Maybe it did do something to me . . . like . . . made me imagine an entire town and even follow a crow . . .”

  I get into the car and look around me. Town gone.

  My hands shake as I shift the car into drive and twist the wheel to the right. I press my toe to the gas and notice the weakness in my knees. Did the past four hours actually happen? Was the hourglass even real? Is Nathan really alive?

  I don’t know what to believe anymore.

  Is my mind playing tricks on me? Or is something trying to communicate with
me? Me . . . Am I trying to tell myself something—opening my own eyes?

  Or, what if it was the Qualms in that dark smog that snaked inside me and forced me to envision these things—their second attempt to convince me to chase after Nathan, to keep Nathan alive within me when I’ve finally accepted and grew past his death?

  For miles, I aimlessly drive away, searching for a signal the GPS can pick up. The radio’s getting nothing but static, and I scan the station until anything comes through. A lady with a pleasant voice that’s soft as a feather encourages, “Do not treat prophecies with contempt, but test them all. Hold on to what is good.” The station fades into white noise as I drive through the darkness, high beams shining on the vacant road.

  “Directions to destination, Home.” The GPS kicks on.

  “Thank goodness!” I sing, washed in relief. I make a u-turn and head home. One thing is for sure, I will no longer stand by while these demons have their way. I won’t be used. And if Nathan is out there, I have anything to do with it, he won’t be used either.

  Like It or Not

  “Where’ve you been?” Laine comes around the stairs.

  I push the front door closed behind me. “I just got this urge to go for a drive and ended up chatting with this lady, I think.”

  “At three o’clock in the morning?” He pulls his sleeve back over his watch.

  I crinkle my nose. “It wasn’t three o’clock when I left.”

  Laine’s the only Nemanite I’ve ever met. The only others I’ve come across were adamant on ending everything Burdened and Sephlem if needed. Laine’s never displayed the hate the blind lady mentioned and has never displayed a sign of threat to Nathan or me. Grant it, they didn’t get along, but most of the hate was from Olar and Nathan, not Laine.”

  “Tell me something, White Eyes. Nemanites don’t usually hang around Sephlems, right?”

  “All of us aren’t the same.”

  “But usually?” I probe.

  Laine shrugs. “Usually. It wouldn’t be deemed as normal or usual for us to hang in the same circles.”

  “Do you have friends other than us?”

  He knits his brows and mutters, “Uh, yes.”

  “But you don’t hate us? You wouldn’t try to murder Jason for being a Burdened Sephlem over some stupid assumption, right?”

  Throwing his arms out at his sides, he quips, “Haven’t done so, so far.”

  “You haven’t, but I need to make sure because if you even try to go after my nephew, I’ll murder you.”

  Laine’s lips press into a thin line. He looks me over and a gloom I wasn’t expecting takes over his eyes. “You know, Black Eyes, I don’t. . .” His gaze falls away from me, and he sighs. “I never mean to be insensitive to you or what you’re going through. I respect you and sometimes wish this was something I could relate to you with. I’m sorry.”

  I give him a smug smile. His white eyes soak me in remorse. “It’s fine, Laine. You were disconnected from normal people for a long time, I doubt it’ll only take a few years to get back into the flow of humanity. Plus, you have a mission, and I don’t expect you to put your morals aside for us, just don’t implement them when it comes to my family and me.”

  Laine slips his arms across my shoulders and tugs me into his hug. He’s so tall and is never warm enough for his embrace to bring comfort, but he’s stayed around for so long, even when he no longer needed to. And he was there for me when I needed a friend and helped me hang on to hope in a place it should not have existed. “Thank you for sticking around.”

  “Sure.” Laine backs out of our embrace. “I was about to make some chicken and broccoli. Want some?”

  Laine isn’t the best chef. His meals are always bland because he doesn’t use seasoning and will cook well past done. “No. But I’ll join you,” I say, following him into the kitchen.

  Pain starts in my stomach and stabs up through my chest. I buckle over, catching the counter to hold my balance. Breathing through it helps, but it’s hard to do when the separation takes me off guard. I hold the grunt and clench my muscles to fight it. Just ten more seconds. It’ll be over soon.

  Phew. I sigh and straighten my spine just in time for Laine to turn around. Separation pain gone, I adjust and reapply my grin.

  “You sure I can’t, at least, cut you an orange?” he asks. “You love oranges.”

  I chuckle, swiping the butt of my hand across my clammy forehead. “Sure, I’ll take an orange.”

  When Laine finishes cooking, we take our food to my room and sit on the floor. He stares me down until I take a bite out of an orange slice, then he digs into his food. Satisfied, he asks, “Anything you’re enjoying most about school?”

  I shrug. “Eh, getting outside of the house is okay. Things are pretty easy for now. I’m not ready to graduate anytime soon, but I enjoy socializing and being normal.”

  Laine nods, stuffing a fork packed with pieces of chicken breast in his mouth. “You have just a semester before you’re out for the summer. Maybe we could get out and find some answers to all our questions. Little Nathan and I have been trying, but we can’t do it without you.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I’m fully against stirring the pot. If they are quiet, we should be quiet. There’s no need to stir up the Qualms or Faylamen if days on days have gone by without a peep from them. I’d prefer to stay on defence if possible. I swiftly change the subject. “You’ve seen Carmen around?”

  Laine laughs. “She had a date, left with him about an hour ago.”

  “Really?” I ask, shocked. “I mean, I knew she had an interest in a guy she’d been texting, but cool.”

  “I always thought Carmen had a thing for me.” He shrugs. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “Hmm. I don’t think you’re wrong. She did, before, but with you being a Nemanite and the heavy involvement you have with our family, you probably moved to cousin or a very close friend status.”

  “I never thought or felt Carmen would care about what I am if she had feelings for me. She doesn’t seem like the type to judge based on species.”

  I finish my last slice of orange. “That’s true, but that was before her best friend died, and she knew how he felt about your kind. We’ll befriend you, but we can’t date you. It’s not a thing against you, but your kind, and respecting the wishes of the deceased.”

  Laine seems to soak in my words as he works his hand through his hair. “I guess my kind wouldn’t like it if I came around with a Sephlem on my arm, Burdened or not.”

  “You’ll tell me about why not? Why the big beef between you two?”

  Laine looks me over for a moment, studying me in a way that makes me want to cross my arms or guard my brain. I blink but fake a jolt in a way that appears somewhat uncontrollable, so when the black film covers my eyes, it seems unintentional. Laine’s brows knit but relax. “Your eyes changing catches me off guard every time. One day you’ll be able to control it entirely.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But more about this Sephlem and Nemanite beef.”

  “I don’t call it a beef. We don’t argue over petty things or hate each other because of things we don’t understand about the other. Nemanites and Sephlems don’t agree with each other on a constitutional level, more principalities and the way of life. From the date of existence, they were born with a stern set of laws. Burdened Sephlems, specifically, are not supposed to mate.”

  “Mating is uncontrollable,” I state. Whatever makes people believe they can interfere in someone falling in love and being able to control it is garbage! The heart wants what the heart wants.

  “I’ll be more specific.” He sets his fork down and meets my eyes with intent. “Sephlems can mate with who or whatever they want. No harm, they’re just a human as humans, but with abilities. We don’t much care about them. Hybrid Sephlems, they aren’t physically capable of mating with a human, they can only mate with someone of equal power or greater. Burdened Sephlem . . . I’m sure you’ve already heard they are the most dangerous of their
species.” The disgust for them isn’t as present in his expression or his voice as it used to be when we’ve discussed Sephlems in the past, but it’s peaceful. “The Burdened are restricted to mate with humans, in turn, restricting them to mate period, because who can tell who’s who off a glance. There’s no room for mistakes in this.” Finishing the last of his food, Laine adds, “There’s no tell on any of them that says who they are because they can choose to not allow their real identity to show. So, in turn, they’re all sought out. We don’t hunt them down, as they’ve been led to believe, we merely seek them out in a way that’s more strategic and understanding. The only other option is for them to take their own lives.”

  “All Sephlems are suspects?”

  He nods. “Until proven they are not a threat.”

  A wave of nausea hits me. I hate his outlook. That’s like disliking someone for the color of their skin, or for where they come from. Actually, what they do is worse than just not liking someone. “Because one person or group is different, or you don’t understand them, that doesn’t make them targets.”