Beware the Wild (23 page)

Fisher steps behind me, so near I feel the warmth of Shine through my shirt. The only thing I can hope for is to trick him into believing I wasn't trying to free my brother without returning Lenora May.

“Sterling,” he says into my ear. “I think you're lying to me.”

“I'm—I'm not lying.” The truth is in my stutter.

Without another word, he grips my arms tightly and pulls me forward. We're moving through the swamp more quickly than we should be able to. I see the pink blur of the cherry tree as he spins me around and shoves me against it. My head smacks the trunk painfully. Pink petals rain down around us.

“Do you think I don't know what you're up to?” he hisses. “Do you think I don't remember? That isn't a
snack
. It's your betrayal of me and your brother.”

“No,” I say, reaching for Shine. I feel the sticky threads. They warm in my hand, but slowly, so slowly. I can't grip.

Fisher grabs my wrist and slams it against the trunk. Pain crashes through my arm. All the glowing threads fall away, and I go as still as the tree behind me.

“No,” he repeats as though searching for the meaning of the word, and then again, “No.” He draws himself up and is suddenly calm. “Well, this is a disappointing turn of events, Sterling. I thought you understood that I could only help your brother return if you helped my sister do the same.”

“She doesn't want to.” I brace for a blow that doesn't come.

“I see,” he says with the sort of calm that only ever precedes the very worst storm. “Then I'm afraid Phineas won't be leaving, either.”

He whispers a word to the tree, and Shine folds itself over my body. I can't move. I can barely breathe.

“I will give you one last courtesy,” Fisher says without looking at me. “A moment to say good-bye.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

F
ISHER EXTENDS A HAND OVER
the pond, and Shine gathers to draw Phineas up from beneath the surface. He rises until his neck is near Fisher's hand, his monstrous body bound and suspended by vines that stretch from cypress trees. Water drip, drip, drips from every part of him, falling soundlessly into the pond. His eyes are full of Shine.

“Please, Fisher, don't.” I have nothing left but the truth. “I can't force Lenora May to do something she doesn't want to, but maybe you can leave the swamp, too. The peaches are from far away, they've never been close to this place, so there's a chance they could free you as well. You and Phineas and Nathan and Abigail and whoever else is trapped here.”

Phin struggles, but Fisher remains very, very still. I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's working over what I said.

“Let us help you get away from here,” I plead.

“Sterling.” It's not only my name; it's a warning. He drops his hand and Phin falls with it. Water sloshes over the bank and onto Fisher's shoes. His face is solid when he turns to me—a rock wall with a humorless smile carved into it. “You already had a chance to help me, but you've let Lenora May pull you into her web.”

I don't know how to respond. The only web I'm caught in at the moment is his and there's terror pinching my throat. Why did I ever think I could scamper into this swamp and do the thing Grandpa Harlan failed to do so many years ago? The only answer I have is that I'm as stubborn as I am stupid. Phin has suffered enough for those two things and now he could die for it. There's only one thing I can possibly say to stop it and it makes every bit of me cold.

I say it anyway.

“Let me take Phin's place. I'll stay here with you.”

The swamp hushes. All I hear is the thrumming of my heart in my ears. Every second that passes could be my last. Fisher could kill me without warning. And he might. I can feel the anger and power emanating from him in menacing ripples.

Fisher's expression doesn't change, but the air around him trembles and blurs like I'm looking at him through murky water. He moves quickly, pushing his face too close to mine. I recoil, smelling moss and spice, but also rot. The dark, deathly smell of the swamp.

“Why do you care about him?” He shakes the branches of the cherry tree. “He's the one who ran away when he should have stayed to protect you. Yet you want to take his place.” His voice has become a growl and it makes my insides shiver. “Very well, my brave girl.”

All the bits of Fisher's face have become narrow, sharp as knives. His eyes glare darkly beneath his night-black hair. Now I see how dangerous he is, all the veneer of kindness stripped clean. I turn away, trying to escape his reach, but he leans forward and places his mouth on mine. There is no escaping him. His kiss is confident and fierce, yet repellant—dark as the swamp around us. Shine warms between our lips and inside my mouth. It quickly transforms into something more cutting.

Pain slices from my brain to my belly. I can barely keep my legs from giving beneath me. Tears slip over my cheeks, hot and fast. I swallow my cries and press my back firmly against the cherry tree as if I might find a way to fall inside it. Then I close my eyes and wait for this to end—hope that it will end—and fear that it won't.

My teeth slice my lip and blood slides over my tongue. The taste is a bright color in my mouth. I swallow it to keep me warm as all the heat is pulled from my bones, as my body tries to transform into something unnatural.

Then Fisher curses and pulls away. Gradually, the pain drains from my belly. I'm weak and empty and gasping. Looking down, I expect to find a body that's not my own, something twisted and malformed, half gator, half me. But I see my own hands, my own knees, no hint of gator green anywhere.

The swamp sings, but I feel no warmth. I feel only this whip of a lizard's tongue licking at my ribs where my heart should be.

Then I fall to the ground, a useless heap of muscle and bone.

Again, Fisher wrenches my head up. This time his fingers dig into the soft spot beneath my chin. His other hand squeezes my wrist. He frowns at the bracelet, but doesn't pry it off. When he speaks, his voice is distant. Detached. “We might've ended this tonight if not for that little charm.”

Too late, I realize what's happened. Lenora May's bracelet is stronger than I knew. Somehow it kept Fisher from taking me in my brother's place, and he thinks I tricked him on purpose.

“No, I didn't—”

The swamp hisses and snaps.

“Ah,” Fisher says, an alarmingly delighted smile on his face. “Just in time.”

Nathan walks into the clearing. His yellow-brown skin is dusty in the moonlight and he tugs nervously at his elbow.

He looks from Fisher to me and, in a voice that's been scratched to pieces, asks, “Do either of you know which way I go to find the road? I've been looking for hours.”

No
, I think,
you've been looking for a year
.

He looks frustrated and sad and a little scared. He scrubs a hand through his hair. It sticks up, adding three inches to his height.

“And my friend. I think he's somewhere in here, too. I've looked everywhere, but I can't find him. Have you seen a white guy in a Saints cap?”

“Sterling.” Fisher isn't looking at me. His eyes are trained on Nathan. “I want you to understand that I'm being generous right now.”

With that, he walks to Nathan and presses one hand to his chest. Nathan's eyes go wide and bright with Shine. His head tilts away. His mouth gapes, filled with light and then dark, releasing a final, quiet sigh. When he falls to the ground, all I can hear is my scream tearing a hole in the air.

His body is silent and motionless in the underbrush. Wide-soled shoes make a muddy V shape, looking for all the world like he fell practicing first position in ballet. I doubt ballet was ever his thing, but I'm staring at his shoes and it's all I can think. Long trails of Spanish moss dangle over his head. They should sway, but nothing moves. Not the moss, not his chest, and not me.

Nathan is dead. Nathan is dead and the world will never know it.

A cold fist closes around my lungs, my belly goes tight, and I think nothing will ever work the way it's supposed to again. I'll never draw another breath that isn't also a sob, I'll never open my eyes without tears because Nathan is dead.

I can't look away. Not even when Fisher closes in.

“You call that being generous?” I manage to ask.

“Isn't it obvious? I've spared your brother. Now, listen closely because my generosity only goes so far.” Fisher grips my arms, hissing his words. I can feel the bruises reaching down to my bones. “Lenora May did me a favor when she left as she did. It was so explosive that she left a very slender crack behind. Your fence is weak and it
won't be long before it's completely useless. If I don't have Lenora May by midnight tomorrow, I will kill someone you care about every day until she returns, and when I run out of people you know, I'll drain the life from Phineas and feed it to the swamp. Do you believe me?”

I believe him so hard my heart turns to granite, but I can't let him feel my fear. Instead, I nod. Once.

“I'm not sure that you do. What was the other name you mentioned?” he asks.

I shut my eyes over the tears and will him to forget I was ever stupid enough to give him the name of my best friend.

It's a hopeless thought.

“Abigail, was it? Oh, Abigail?”

And as though she were waiting for his call, she steps into the clearing, as tall and beautiful as ever. Her eyes are tired and she looks infinitely confused.

“Sterling? Why haven't you called?” She crouches in front of me and wipes at my tears, ignoring Fisher as though he's invisible. “What's wrong?”

“Abigail, I'm so sorry,” I say. “Please, don't kill her.”

The confusion on Abigail's face defeats my heart, and in the next instant, Fisher covers her body in a weave of Shine.

She screams. Her body begins to jerk, to make wet, snapping noises, to whimper and gurgle as it reshapes itself. It happens slowly. Painfully. Her body transforms into a gruesome mash of human and alligator. It's exactly what he tried and failed to do to me. She gives one final shriek of pain, and I tremble, wondering why I hadn't thought to do anything to keep Abigail safe.

When it's done, she regards me with placid, yellow eyes. Like Phin, her face has been twisted into a wide rictus. Unlike Phin, she's nearly all gator. Her body squats low on short legs with long, black claws digging into the mud.

“Now do you believe me?” He carves each word with the precision of a scalpel.

“I believe you,” I repeat, never looking away from Abigail's once-beautiful face.

“Good, because that was the last of my generosity. Next time, I
will
kill her.” He releases me and brushes his hands down the front of his shirt. You'd never guess he'd just killed a boy. “Now, off you go.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

F
ISHER INSTRUCTS THE
S
HINE TO
lead me home. I stumble through the swamp in a daze, no thought in my mind other than to keep following the lights. If I think of anything else, I'll dissolve right here in the muddy pools behind my house.

I see the fence and my house beyond, but I'm not connected to my body enough to feel my feet hit the ground or the knots of my boots between my fingers as I untie them. Somehow, I make it to my room without drawing attention. I keep my thoughts simple: shower first, then clean clothes, then bed.

But once I'm clean and alone in my room, the dam breaks.

Nathan died in front of my eyes, Abigail was transformed, Phin was strung up like a puppet, and I walked away with an ultimatum I can't fulfill. My plan didn't just fail, it destroyed a life.