Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(29)

“No worries.”

She wanted to laugh and scream at the response, unable to feel as calm as he did after just hearing him admit he ran around killing people. Her mind was numb, and her body wouldn’t stop trembling. This time, it wasn’t air magick or the weather that made her shake.

As if feeling her gaze, Decker looked at her again, struggling visibly. She couldn’t tell against what. The sense of being cornered fled, along with the air magick’s cry of fear. The hardness left his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice normal again. “I shouldn’t have scared you.”

She said nothing. The danger – whatever it was - had passed.

“You’ll figure it out soon. Someone has to keep the Dark from spreading. When someone breaks the Dark Laws, it’s my job to kill them.” He showed her his hands again.

Autumn looked away, fighting nausea.

“If I don’t, evil spreads. Understand?”

She nodded, uncertain if she did or not. What he said almost made sense, when she thought of the Light Laws. She’d never wondered what happened if someone broke one. She’d understood that failing the trial was bad. She didn’t know how bad.

“They really should put a warning label on the orientation class,” she whispered.

“They believe witchlings will choose what’s already inside them.”

“There’s no room for mistakes?”

“No.” His response was quiet, gaze going to the sky again.

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why don’t you …” she trailed off. Autumn looked from him to the canyon, recalling his question about following him. She almost understood. Almost recalled something. It had to do with the dark-haired girl that led her here this night and Decker’s pain.

Autumn ceased struggling with the memory. It wasn’t going to emerge.

“Why don’t I what?” His voice was calmer, though the hard edge had crept back into it.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. Pain as deep as his wasn’t going to be soothed by empty words. She hesitated then began to tell him what she hadn’t revealed to anyone else. “I, um, was in an accident awhile ago. The doctors told me I’d never walk again, and I’d have brain damage. They said to accept those things, because there wasn’t much hope at all for any other outcome.” She said with difficulty. “My … my left leg is pretty much just my skin over this contraption they built for me. I used to wake up from surgeries and pray I died. I never knew I could feel such pain. The drugs did nothing.”

He was listening, gaze on her face.

“But I decided the pain couldn’t win. If I survived, there was a reason, and I can’t … I can’t believe that reason is so I can spend the rest of my life suffering.” She swallowed hard to keep tears from forming. “I had a second chance. I decided I wouldn’t waste it. I learned how to walk when everyone told me I’d never be able do it. I may never run again, but I won’t stop trying.”

“You’ll be in pain the rest of your life.”

“I know that,” she said with some anger. “If I had it to do over, I would still choose pain over death.”

“Wise words, from a crippled girl.” Decker’s words were soft, mocking.

Autumn met his gaze. “I’m stronger than you. You let your pain cloud your judgment.”

“Careful,” he growled. His eyes flared with anger, and the shadows around him slowed. Air magick grew agitated once more, and the sense of standing close to something not entirely human returned.

She waited for the air to calm and the feeling to fade.

“You scare me, Decker. But I also know there’s nothing you can do to me worse than what I’ve been through,” she told him with more confidence than she felt. “You don’t even try to fight your pain.”

“You make it sound easy,” he snapped.

“It’s not. It’s hell. Every second of every day. At least I choose to face it.” Her chin trembled. “You’ve given up.”

“There are no second chances.”

“Yes, there are. You just have to take that first step.”

Decker held her gaze. His jaw was clenched, his muscular frame and shadows making him look like an angel of death. She didn’t back down. She’d sensed his pain and innately understood it was this that drove him to believe what he did, to take the lives he did. He didn’t believe in mercy, because no mercy was shown to him. He needed to hear the truth. She hoped there was some small piece of him that understood it.

The silence grew longer. Cold and overwhelmed by the discussion, Autumn leaned more heavily on her cane.

He was struggling again. She didn’t understand what was happening to him. The inhuman presence left; he’d won some invisible battle. Decker turned and strode into the forest. His fog rose, obscuring his form. When it cleared, he was gone.

Startled at his abrupt departure, she stared after him then almost slid to her knees in relief. Something about him left her drained every time they crossed paths. She wiped her face and lifted it to the sky. Snowflakes caught in her eyelashes. Her face was too numb from cold to feel those that landed on her cheeks. The air and earth spoke to her, and she realized she hadn’t heard one of them while she talked to Decker, as if the earth was watching the exchange while the air tried to warn her.