Of the Trees(81)

Laney made a token protest, murmuring concerns over the wrenching soil. But they didn’t listen.

“Get her out of here,” a voice Cassie didn’t recognize called out.

“Help!” Cassie shrieked. She couldn’t move her legs anymore; the roots spread over them. She shifted, trying to pull one and then the other out of the stranglehold the ground had taken. “Ryan, wake up!”

He didn’t move, a solid weight against her chest. She felt the suck of the forest, dragging her lower. Panic seized her. She clawed at Ryan, screamed for help. The stench was overpowering, the cold of the mud seeping through her. She was stuck, like quicksand that pulled her faster and faster toward the center of the earth. Immobile. Soon to be dead.

“Laney! Please!” It was the last thing she was able to say before the soil danced up her neck and into her mouth. She spat, unable to rid herself of it. She held her breath, stars appeared behind her clenched eyelids. Roots slithered up and over her face and chest, squeezing, pinning.

The ground tore opened beneath Cassie, and she fell, her body ripping through what remained of the clinging roots.

The drop was fast and cold. She landed with a thud and her breath rushed out of her. She saw stars even when she opened her eyes, colored lights winking in and out of focus. A circle of dusky light was directly overhead, the tips of blackened trees visibly swaying below the darkened sky.

Ryan lay still atop her, a heavy weight pinning her down.

“Ryan,” she whispered, trying to shake him awake. “You okay?”

There was no answer. Cassie felt the heat of tears, but she ignored it. She pressed her hands to his chest, cradling him against her. His heart beat fast and strong behind her palm, his breath came evenly, lifting her hands slowly and then gently lowering them. She sucked a deep breath in, and then squirmed out from beneath him. She lay him down. His head lolled to one side in the muck, plastering mud to his cheek.

Her head ached. When she brought her fingers to her scalp, they came away sticky, wet, and warm. She was bleeding. She blinked several times, unable to rid herself of the pinpoints of light that sparked in her peripheral vision.

She could hear voices from the forest above. Somewhere, far away, she could hear Laney crying.

“There are others, Aidan, this is not worth the trouble.” The voice held a ring of authority but when Aidan answered, he was casual.

“I want her,” he said, his voice echoing down into the hole he put her in. “I like her face.”

There were soft chuckles from above. Cassie stretched her arms out. She could reach either side of their enclosure with her fingertips. She spun, keeping her hands to the walls. It was circular, like a well. Roots sprung from the wet sides, dirt crumbled as her fingers ran over it. She stepped up to the wall, running her hands up as high as she could reach. It was hard to gauge, with the light so dim above, just how deep they were, but the voices above were clear and strong. She had survived the fall and so had Ryan. They couldn’t be that deep. She pushed her fingers into the soft mud of the wall, grabbing a handful and trying to pull herself up.

Clumps of wet dirt rained down on her.

“Tsk, tsk, my dear.” A smooth voice from above laughed down at her. “That’s not the way to play nice.”

“She can’t hear you, imbecile,” a female, not Laney, said. She sounded bored.

Cassie didn’t respond. She wouldn’t. This was a game, and Cassie wasn’t playing.

“Help!” she screamed. “Can anybody hear me?”

Laughter. Cassie grit her teeth and tried again, screaming until her eardrums hurt. She gave up with an angry cry, pacing the small confines before kneeling next to Ryan. She couldn’t see any more than his outline so she put her hands on his chest, relieved when her hands rose with his breath.

Something soft tickled her neck, and she jerked back, scrambling against the side of her prison. She couldn’t see anything at first, though she searched through the darkness. When she looked up, the circle above framed the moonlight and the straggly trees, and through this she noticed the mist. It purled over the edge, floating in soft tendrils toward Cassie and Ryan.

Someone above snorted, but a voice cut through that. “Remember how it was, darling?” he said. Cassie felt her eyes drift shut, an unexpected thrill shooting through her chest. “Remember how it felt?”

Her throat was dry, and she swallowed roughly. The voice was melodic and soft, enticing. She knew what he meant, and yes, she remembered how it felt. Warm. Intense.

He desired her. She knew that. And for a moment, in the forest, against that tree, she had desired him, too.

She reached out, her hand finding Ryan’s inert shoulder. She tucked her hand inside his jacket and curled her fingers into his damp shirt.

“It could be that way.” The voice drifted down on the mist, soft and warm. “Call out for me.”

Her lips parted and she looked up, searching for Aiden among the trees that thrashed above. A flash of a head appeared silhouetted above her. She imagined him smiling. She was trembling softly, cold and wet. Except for her fingers. They were warm, almost hot, as they clung to Ryan’s shoulder. The mist was sweet but cold and suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to feel warm.

“Call for me,” he whispered, “I will keep you warm.”

She blinked and her mind cleared.

No. She didn’t want him. She never wanted him.