Keeper(94)

“I’ll count to three,” Julian said, his voice low. “It will be disorienting and scary for you, since it’s your first time, but I’ve got you. Just don’t let go. Are you ready?” He waited for the confirmation from Maggie and me. “Good. Here we go, then. One.”

I’ve got you. The words sent of jolt of pain through me. Ty’s face appeared in my thoughts, and pain lanced through me, but I blinked, forcing my mind to go blank.

“Two.”

I took one last look at the pillar of smoke, sucked in a deep breath, and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Three.”

There was a strange tingling sensation, and then it was as if we’d been thrown backward out into nothingness. The cool breeze whipped my hair in my face, and the sensation that we were free-falling made my stomach flip-flop. I bit back a cry, but Maggie was squealing loudly, the sound making my eardrums ring. Then there was a strong jerk, and I was wrapped in a swirling vortex of color and wind. I screamed then, unable to stop it this time, and buried my face in Julian’s broad chest.

Moments later, I hit the ground hard, knocked from Julian’s arms and onto the ground. I looked around but had no idea where we were. It looked like an abandoned patch of highway.

“Up you go,” Julian said, pulling me to my feet. There was a van parked on the shoulder, hidden in the shadows of the trees. Zia motioned us forward.

Julian tugged at my hand, towing Maggie and me toward the vehicle.

More of the fog in my head was dissipating, and as more and more images became clear, the more pain I felt surging through me. By the time we made it to the car, I was barely hanging on.

“Here,” Zia said, reaching into the back of the van. “You’ll want to get out of those clothes.” She pulled several pairs of dark clothing from a bag and handed them to us.

Then she whistled and the men quickly turned around, giving us some privacy. Maggie and Serena immediately began to change, eager to be free of the ball gowns.

I rubbed my hand over the fabric. The dark green pants and white cotton tank top were worn but clean. I knew I should put them on, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove my dress. It was covered in Gareth’s blood. As crazy as it sounded, I didn’t want to take it off. It was the last piece of my uncle I had left. I wasn’t ready to let go.

Maggie and Serena, seeing my distress, walked over and wrapped their arms around me.

The warmth of their skin made me realize just how cold I was, how hard I was shivering, and the hold I had on my emotions crumpled.

I began to sob uncontrollably.

They didn’t say anything, but I could see understanding in their eyes. Together, they helped me out of the gown and into the fresh clothes.

I cried even harder as they pulled the wretched heels from my feet and replaced them with warm socks and a worn pair of boots.

I had been so certain that there wasn’t anything left of my heart, but as they helped me into the back of the van, I thought of Gareth and Ty, and something inside me broke in two, obliterated by grief and guilt and sorrow.

It was me. I was broken. Broken beyond repair.

My stomach ached and my body convulsed as the sobs ripped through me, tearing me to pieces.

I heard Maggie’s tearful voice. “Please,” she whispered, though I didn’t understand.

There was a slight shuffling sound, and then I felt a hand against my forehead. “Rest now, little witch.”

Zia’s cool voice filled my thoughts, and then I met the darkness of sleep.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


It was cool outside. The night air had a slight nip to it that made me shiver. The wool blanket I’d wrapped around my shoulders scratched against my skin, but I didn’t care.

The cot underneath me was rigid and stiff. By proxy so were my limbs, but the discomfort of my body could hardly touch the deep ache from the gaping hole in my heart. I lay with my arms wrapped around myself, as if to keep the ragged edges from caving in. I squeezed, my fingers digging into my skin. Crescent-shaped indentions covered my arms, but I felt nothing. I was completely numb, encased in a fog that dulled my senses.

Zia and the Skippers were sitting around a small campfire a few feet away. The men were drinking coffee and laughing, while Zia pored over a map and offered a few small smiles in response to their goading. The warmth of the fire was enticing, but I couldn’t bring myself to join them. The golden-orange flames that flickered in the darkness reminded me too much of another fire—the one that had cost me everything.

We’d been on the road for days now, and every night it was the same. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, my body was drained, still exhausted and weak. Sleep came for me like an executioner, torturing me with sights, smells, and sounds that plagued me until I finally woke screaming in the darkness.

Serena and Maggie kept reassuring me that it would get better, but every night I woke with Gareth’s blood on my hands, the Master’s scream of rage in my ears, and Ty’s blue eyes, cold and unfeeling, staring into mine.

I can never come away from this. That thought reverberated in my mind, a never-ending loop of unspoken truth. I’d read an article once about people who experience trauma. The study showed that while many are able to move past their experiences, a small number remain lost, living their lives within themselves. The article called them the “living dead,” and while it had seemed so entirely strange and sad when I read it, I now understood what it meant to be alive but not living.