What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(37)
Something slithered over my stomach, pulling my focus in those endless moments of suspension. Brann’s gaze was harsh on whatever he saw on my stomach, and when he met my eyes one last time, all I saw was a guilty apology and resignation.
He knew as well as I did in that moment that he was going to leave me alone, after all.
“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, the sound shrill and somehow other. My body snapped to a sudden halt as the shadows around my waist solidified. Something cracked within my body, and sharp pain radiated through my torso as I hung limply for a moment.
Brann continued to fall, and my shoulder popped, echoing above the sound of waves crashing against the shore below when Brann continued to fall. Grasping his hand with my other one, I held on more tightly and refused to drop him as my shoulder throbbed with the aching pain of dislocation and hung limply at my side.
His fingers slipped through mine, slickened with sweat by our escape attempt, and he hung below me, his eyes on mine and pleading. "Let go, Estrella," he whispered, releasing my hand. I shook my head through the pain, clinging to him even though, in the back of my head, I already suspected it was pointless.
The solid shadows at my waist retracted, pulling me back up toward the top of the cliff as I squirmed in my pathetic bid for freedom. We should have both been dead.
A strong hand gripped the back of my dress as I crested the top, hauling me up the final distance until he could lay me out on the forest floor. Brann’s body landed atop mine, sprawling across me as I tried to force air back into my lungs. The inky shadows at my waist retracted, slithering over the fabric of my dress. Wheezing breaths wracked me as my entire body throbbed with pain. My right arm hung limply at my side; even just the thought of moving it making it ache with warning.
Brann moved slowly, slipping his hand beneath the sleeve of my dress and taking the dagger he’d strapped there. A spectral ghost of a man stood over me, glaring down at the way I grimaced beneath Brann’s body and unaware of his slow, cautious movements to arm himself.
The Fae Mark was still, none of the pulsing magic I’d expected to protect me making itself known. Whether it was a continued consequence of the iron collar or whether the magic that flowed through the Mark didn’t work against the Fae, I suspected I may never know.
The being who’d pulled me back from the cliff grabbed Brann by the back of the cloak, lifting his frame off of me so he could get a good look at me and my injuries. His body was corporeal, despite appearing transparent, taking little effort to grasp my brother. The silver dagger gleamed in the night, shining as the member of the Wild Hunt released Brann suddenly and reached for his sword.
Brann caught himself when he fell, placing a hand next to my head as he leaned over me. His eyes were wet as he stared down at me, time seeming to suspend as his lips turned down. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, raising his arm quickly.
The dagger sparkled as it carved through the air, descending toward my chest. I blinked up at my brother in shock, the realization of what he intended to do hitting me too late to react. All I could do was stare up into his agonized face as the dagger fell.
It was only a breath from my chest when he froze in place, his body jerking forward as the tip of a silver sword protruded from his stomach.
He gasped, looking down to stare at the blade as the member of the Wild Hunt pulled it free, tearing Brann’s body off of mine with the motion. I scrambled to my knees, fighting to get to my brother where he lay, blood trickling from his lips. He mumbled something, the sound trailing off into a gurgle as the Fae grabbed him by the front of his cloak and dragged him to the edge of the cliff.
He thrashed once as I tried to crawl after him on my dislocated shoulder, a scream tearing free as the member of the Wild Hunt lifted him off the ground and hurled him over the edge. “No!” I shrieked, rushing forward to follow. After a moment, there was a splash below, the sound piercing through me as I peered over the edge.
I couldn’t see his body, couldn’t see anything but the dark depths of the salt water below. There was no second splash to signify Brann breaking back through the surface, clinging to life.
The Fae stood over me, wrapping an arm around the front of my chest and hauling me backwards. He pulled me as far away from the cliff face as he could without bumping my broken body into any of the trees. “She’s injured,” he said, turning his eerie white eyes to the figure that waited atop his horse. This was the same male I’d seen that night in the woods, the ink on his face glowing blue as he regarded me with a bored look.
The male at my side reached down, touching my chin and turning my head to the side so that he could get a good look at my Fae Mark. A crowd of other members of the Wild Hunt broke through the trees, following behind a handful of creatures that snapped at the air.
The growls filled my ears, the menace in them sending my heart racing. Black oozed from their mouths, the viscous fluid dripping from fangs as thick as my wrist. It faded into the shadows before it could touch the ground, vanishing into thin air as if it sizzled out of existence. They were what might have been dogs, had the skin stayed on their bones and not melted into rotten ribbons. Their skeletons showed through the gaps in the oozing, red flesh, a mangled mess of life and death. Their claws sank into the dirt, too large for their paws and curling over the front. Glowing white eyes matched their more humanoid masters’, their stances ready to attack at the leader’s command.