Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(67)

The dream faded. I wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy that life anyway. Papa would take the role of High Priest and it would be his life. I would die protecting him from myself.

“But now that there’s a war . . .” I trailed off.

“I would have been even more involved in the war if I was still Head of Protectors.”

“Will you be happy doing this?” I asked, looking up at him. If it brought him some degree of joy, of progression, I could bear dying in three months. He let out a half-smile and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ears.

“If you’re with me, B, I’d be happy living in a shack, on the beach, exiled from the Central Network.”

I snorted.

“Living on the beach hardly sounds like a punishment.”

“Exactly,” he said, winking.

“You’re going to be working all the time as a High Priest, even more than you do as a Protector. Will I ever see you?”

I felt like a little girl again, looking up at him, seeking the reassurance that even though he had to leave, he’d always come back. I wanted to pretend that his strength could keep the frightening world at bay. Only this time, I wasn’t a little girl, and I knew that he couldn’t hold back reality forever.

“Yes.” He hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me into his chest, then pressed a kiss on top of my head. “We’ll always be together.”

Not always, my heart whispered, and the magic gave another little stir.





Desperate Enough

Magic threatened to burst through the walls of my heart that night.

If I had let it, the power would have spilled out in a wave of blood and bitter regret, consuming me and everything I touched. I locked myself in my room, away from my friends and anyone else, pleading exhaustion. They let me retreat without a word. I sat on the edge of my canopied bed and stared out the arched window with a lifeless gaze.

The next High Priest will be Derek Black.

So many thoughts ran through my mind that I didn’t know how to organize them. I just let them go. The jumbled mess eventually narrowed, tapering into the memory of Isadora’s creaky old voice.

You’ve underestimated her before.

My hands trembled where they rested on my lap.

I stayed there for hours, not moving, just thinking. My life would either begin again or tragically end in a battle with Miss Mabel. Of that I had no doubt. This time it would be different. She gave me power when she killed Mama, and now I was going to use it.

Perhaps she’d underestimated me as well.

When the first fingers of dawn lightened the edge of the sky, I straightened up. My muscles and knees, stiff from holding the same position for so long, protested. I slipped into a pair of breeches and an old shirt, tied my hair with a small strip of leather, and drifted out of the apartment without a sound.

By the time I padded my way through Chatham’s quiet corridors and back staircases, the looming top of Letum Wood looked black against the milky blue sky. The darkness of the trees met me like an old friend. With a confident stride forward, I headed deep into the heavy shadows and hit the trail at a hard run.

My frantic breathing soon saturated the early morning, accompanied by the gallop of my heart. Merrick’s advice sounded in my mind as I flashed through the trees, my legs flying.

Just let it happen.

Stop trying to control it.

Although I wasn’t entirely certain what he meant, I thought I had an idea. I braced myself, expecting the worst.

Once I’d warmed into the run, the magic started its usual war on my heart. Memories flickered from the buried depths of my mind. Running through Letum Wood with Mama and Papa. Picnics in the warm sunshine. Giggling underneath white sheets with Mama in the morning. Instead of pushing them away, I let the memories come. A flood of pain followed, but I didn’t try to stop that either.

Just let it happen.

I crested a hill to see Mama’s memory waiting near the top, a smile on her face. She caused a painful spasm in my heart.

Bianca! the memory called.

I sped past a boulder heaped with moss, hoping to ease the pain in my chest. Mama’s voice brought a flood of emotions I hadn’t prepared for. Grief, despair, pain, sorrow.

Bianca!

Yes, Mama, I thought, embracing the recollection. I hear you.

In my mind I became a little girl hiding behind a tree, stifling my laughter with a hand over my mouth. The leaves swayed overhead, dappling my skin with sunshine and shadow. Birds warbled from a nest nearby, and the musty smell of earth emanated from the sun-warmed dirt. Any second now and Mama would find me. The delicious anticipation made me shudder and giggle at the same time.

The stab of a rock in the middle of my foot wrenched my next step, jolting me back into reality. My strides stumbled but didn’t stop. I leapt a boulder and dodged a low-hanging vine. The memory faded, replaced by another one.

Mama appeared ahead of me on the trail again, her arms spread wide, her hair streaming around her shoulders like banners.

You’re back! she called, laughing. I missed you. Did you have fun with Papa?

I miss you, Mama, my heart replied.

The little girl laughed and ran past me on the trail, throwing her wispy body into Mama’s arms. A sob lingered in my throat as the two ghosts of my past twirled around, so happy together. I’d never see that smile on Mama’s face in real life again, outside this vague world of ghosts and shadows.