First Kiss (19 page)

I scowl, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

She sighs, “No, it doesn’t. It has yet to be solved. No one remembers
back that far, or how it started. It just is.”

“My mom killed herself.”
The words sort of
fall out, floating in the air in front of us both.

She winces, “I know. Baylor told me. She disobeyed me and went
to get you and Rosie; she was worried after meeting the woman raising you. When
she got there, Rosie was considerably older than she should have been. The
woman who was raising you told her about your mother. She came back, a sobbing
mess. I told her to go and get Rosie and we would raise her as a cousin.
Keeping her safe from that evil woman. I told her that there was no way that we
could help you.”

A single tear drops from her eye onto her cheek and rolls
slowly. She doesn’t blink the rest of the tears out. She just stares at me,
like she is looking through me. I know it is a lie. I just don’t know if my
aunt knows that. Either way, it makes me instantly uneasy. She shakes her head,
“We couldn’t help you then and we can’t help you now. The magic is too strong
and all it takes is a single act. One evil act will fill you with more power
than any witch could handle.”

I shake my head, “I won’t commit one.”

Her eyes get sad, more attached to the story suddenly, “You
already did, my precious. You cursed the heir prince. The magic is filling you
now. Soon it will take you.”

I look down again. “There must be a way.”

“I do not know of a way to fix it.”

I can feel something burning inside of me, like a bass is
beating with my heart inside of me. “I will find one. Where are you and Mother
from?”

She looks like she might fight me on it, but she doesn’t. She
nods, “The land of a thousand lakes, Nor Kena, past Norland, and then east. Our
mother escaped with us when we were babies. She brought us here, running from
the curse.”

“Then I will go there and find out where the curse came from.”

She grabs my hands, violently. “Break this curse, my dear.”

I want to pull away. I don’t want her to touch me. I stand
perfectly still, “I will and then I will free Bash from the terrible thing I’ve
done to him.”

She nods, “I believe if anyone can, it is you.” She looks out
the window for a moment, “What about the young man?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. He’s all I have here.”

She nods slowly, “That is a selfish decision, my dear. That is
the evil in you thinking for yourself. You must free him.”

My
stomach aches
and my heart hurts,
but I have to see it her way. It’s selfish to want him here with me, even if he
is the one who demands it.
I shake my head
, “
He won’t leave me here
.”

Her eyes twinkle, “You must make him leave and let him start
over. Make him forget you.”

I almost cry when she says it; he really is the only person
who even remembers me—really remembers me. He is all I have in the whole
world. It seems my fate is to be constantly forgotten in some way or another by
every member of my family, so why not him too? I nod once, holding back my
heart. She turns and pulls a dark-purple cloth from a large piece of furniture.
Behind it is a shiny mirror. I cannot see my reflection in it. I reach my
fingertips, hesitantly and dip them into the space where the glass should be.
“Where does it go?”

“Wherever you want it to.”

I swallow my feelings, taking a deep breath. “Mirror. Please
mirror, show me Main Street in Lakeland.” The mirror darkens even more, and
then slowly, dim lights start to appear as if they are stars showing themselves
to me one at a time. I see they are streetlights, and then in the light they
cast, I see buildings and windows. My heart feels like it is in my throat. I
could jump through and be done with it all. I could leave and start over, and I
know Sam would want me to.

I turn and see my aunt is there and Sam is walking with her.
He looks lost but he is not frozen anymore. “What did you do to him?” The
whites of his eyes have swallowed up the color.

She looks at him nonchalantly. “He is in a dream, so when he
gets back it will be as if nothing has changed and he dreamt it all. Now help
him through.”

I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it tightly, but he
doesn’t acknowledge me. I pull him tightly to me and tremble a little as I face
the mirror. Silent tears leak from my eyes and I feel the pathetic wimp I have
always been lingering inside of me. She is waiting for her chance to push me
into the mirror too, rescuing me from this.

I close my eyes and stand him in front of the mirror.

“Take his memories of you. Hold either side of his cheeks and
look into his eyes and steal them.”

I take a breath and do as she has said. I look into the
milky-white eyes and whisper, “Give me all your memories and feelings of and
for me.”

Sam’s eyes light up, but not like there is a pupil. In its
stead, there is a show, a movie. It is made of flashes, images of me. He sees
me on the street and I feel his heart beat faster when our eyes meet. His hand
twitches like he wants to take mine but he fights it. He swallows his drink at
the party and looks for a girl who will make him forget about me. He slaps his
small hand down on the police officer’s desk and screams for them to do
something—anything—to help me. He’s a boy and he knows Mary is
beating me. He looks out the window of the store he’s in, seeing my mother
walking down the road. He follows her up the hill all the way to the mansion.
When he gets there, he sees her screaming and crying. She turns, seeing him.
She grabs his arms, shaking him and crying about the way home and getting lost
in her mother’s fog. He starts to cry; he’s eleven or twelve. She drops to her
knees, digging her hands into the dirt and smearing it across her face. He sees
the frightening sight and runs. There is a glimpse of someone, a girl with red
hair and a cloak. She peeks at him from behind the decrepit old house, but he’s
scared. He runs back to town. The branches scratch his face when he takes the
short cut. He falls and hits his head. He wakes up in the hospital and when
he’s leaving, they’re bringing my mom in, on the stretcher. She passes by him,
her hand sticking out of the covers. I see something that doesn’t make sense to
me—a ring on a finger that it should not be. I look down at my finger and
a memory hits. I remember the ring all too clearly. I look up at Sam. I look
back at my aunt, “My mom is alive.” I don’t mean to blurt it out.

My aunt looks confused, “What? That is not possible. I have
seen her death.”

I nod, “I have too, but I think I get it. I think I get what
this is.”

“Well, don’t be cryptic, child. What do you see?”

I open my mouth to speak, but I have the faintest feeling I
should not tell her. The
faint feeling is confirmed by the
ring I saw in Sam’s memory
. The feeling comes from a whisper on the wind
coming in the mirror. It is the same wind that has been with me from the
beginning. I only now see that it never was my mother who was on my side. The
wind is my dead sister, Baylor.

It always was.

She whispers words to me, telling me that I must keep this
secret. I shake my head, “My mom is not alive. She is a ghost—she has
tried to talk to me, I think. I have seen a memory I recall in Sam’s eyes that
makes me remember something. Just Mom’s death.”

My aunt nods, “Not uncommon for our kind. We see things we
shouldn’t be able to.”

The plot thickens.

My mother is the person at the castle. She is the person
pretending to be Baylor. She is the evil in the world.

I cannot risk Sam to that. My mother killed her own child and
cursed the other. She will stop at nothing to be queen.

I smile through the pain and tears I am fighting and look into
Sam’s eyes, “You do not remember ever knowing me. You are safe, and you do not
recall this world at all, nor Bastion.” I bring his lips down to mine, and I
kiss them ever so softly. They are exactly as I imagined they would be. They
are warm and soft, and I savor every second they are pressed against mine. It
is the first kiss I always wanted, but even now I am not having. He is soft to
kiss but not present in the kiss. I push him into the mirror and watch as he
walks out of a window and into the cool street.

I have no idea how I am going to do what I think needs to be
done now.

Chapter Sixteen

I ride the horse as hard and fast as I
can. We
cross rivers
and fields and climb hills, until
my butt is nearly killing me and my thighs are burning. I hate that I have to
hurry. I want to stop and see it all. This is my home but I feel nothing for
it. There is too much in the way. The map that my aunt gave me is straightforward,
but I still have no idea where I am going. When I asked her for advice on
magic, she told me to follow my
instincts, that was
it. No book of spells to learn or magical sisterhood moment. She gave me a
creepy look and shrugged, “Follow your instincts.” It felt a little
disappointing—I can’t lie.

We cross a field as the sun goes down.
Mist starts to creep along the grass, freaking me out. I have a feeling that
the horse might know how to listen to me. I whisper to the horse, “Look, I am a
little scared and I don’t know if you can understand me or not. But can you
find safety for us for the night?” He instantly veers off to the right and I
see something I have never seen before, besides a horse
who
understands people talking. There is a tree like a willow but it’s really pale,
like ash. The branches dangle down to the ground completely. The horse rides us
right to the pale tree but doesn’t slow down. I put my hands up to protect my
face as we ride through the branches. I hear something, giggling and voices,
but when I take my hands down, there is nothing but a large pale tree trunk. I
look up and see the branches start high up and hang down. It’s lighter in here
than it was outside of the tree.

I can just see the night sky through
the top of the tree, and as it turns dark, the tree gets lighter. It’s weird.
When I drop down to the ground, my feet crunch on the branches that have
fallen. I look around at the underside of the tree, shaking my head. “What is
this, boy?” I rub my hands along his side. The giggling voices drift in and out
of the branches as if they are the wind as the sky darkens even more. I can see
the stars starting to pop out between the branches.

I stumble, exhausted and starving to
the side of the tree. I lie down on the only soft-looking spot and look down at
my skirts. I am a mess. No one will ever believe I am who I am. I look up
through the branches at the sky and feel the weight of my eyelids getting
heavier.

I close my eyes and in the wind I hear
her voice. I would know it anywhere. I can’t fight the smile
nor
the tears, and I can’t be sure I am awake or asleep.

She is the cool wind against my cheek
and she feels like home to me. Her words are a whisper inside of the wind. “I
tried to warn you. I tried to keep you safe, sister. You must run from our
family—they are evil. You must suspect our aunt is leading you to a trap.
I have a dreadful feeling about her. I assume this journey you are on is the
same trap she and Mother laid for me. Aunt Cecile told me to go through the
mirror to find Mother in Lakeland. Our own aunt told me of the place I was to
meet her—an old mansion with a curse like ours. She said I had to find
the ancients who began the curse. I crept up to that petrifying mansion to meet
with Mother, so she could conjure a passage for me. Mother desired for me to
seek out the coven to ascertain their knowledge in hopes that I could break the
curse for you. She believed I was the one destined to save you from the black
blood. I knew I needed to do it and free you. I had sent you there to that
terrible place, so I had to be the one to free you. I drank the potion Mother
made, and when I fell asleep, she murdered me. I don’t know why, but I woke as
part of the wind, hovering over my dead body
as
 
our
own mother traded places with
me. I watched as she drew all my magic and suddenly she resembled me. I don’t
know why our mother sent you to Lakeland or why she killed me. I don’t know
what she has planned for you, but you can wager that it’s bad.
You must always remember, she only resembles me.
Mother is
evil inside and always plotting. Go back to Lakeland and hide. I wish I had
taken you and Rosie and ran. Instead, I helped them make a portal,
excited to be getting rid
of you. I wanted to be queen so
badly. I was naïve and jealous. I’m sorry.” Her words end and my breath
turns
soft. I feel myself fall into a deep sleep.

When I wake, the horse is next to me
lying on the ground. I nestle into him for warmth. He makes a noise, and when I
lift my head, I see his fur. I run my hands through it and he gets up, shaking
his head. I get up, noticing how cool it is inside of the tree when the sun is
up. It seems like it is magical.
This place is so crazy
,
it probably is magical
.

I climb onto the horse, wincing at the
soreness of my poor butt cheeks. I don’t know if I should go back, or if I
should just find a piece of glass to turn into a mirror, if it will even work
again. I have only done it on mirrors my family had already spelled.

I whisper to the horse, running my
fingers through his dark chestnut mane. “Where should I go? Take me to the
place I will be safe.”

The horse doesn’t move. I smile
nervously, “Okay, but I can’t live here under this tree.” I take a breath and
try to muster something of a spine. “Take me to the ancients. I just want to see.”
He stomps his feet, dusting up the branches below us. I run my fingers through
his soft hair, “We won’t go all the way to where they are. We will spy a
little. See if maybe one isn’t good.
 
I just have to see.” And I do. I don’t know why but I need to know.

He snorts and bursts into a sprint,
leaving the safety of the pale tree. When we shoot from the branches, the day
is warm and sunny. He dashes across the field and into the woods on the far
side. He rides hard and I grip to him. I don’t know where we are until I see a
road marker. I suppose it is our world’s attempt at a street sign. It says Gale
and points to the right. It must be a Norland town.

He rides in a different direction,
taking the path to the left. I almost close my eyes and try to hear her voice
again. Here in the wilds, I cannot feel the wind. It is as if she is trapped in
Lakeland and the tree somehow made it possible for her to visit me.

Or it was a dream.

But I don’t think that is it.

He doesn’t slow in his pace. We ride so
hard,
I swear my butt is chafed from the saddle and
the stupid dress. Finally, when I can’t take one more minute in the saddle, he
stops.
I am nearly thrown from the seat
,
his stop is so abrupt
. Dirt skids onto the path in front of
us. He spins in a circle, he’s agitated. I grip to him, catching a glimpse of
something along the path. It’s dark and crosses in front of us. The horse turns
again, seeking a way out maybe.

I turn back to the dark thing to see a
man. As he gets closer, I can see he is not a good man. He holds a dagger and a
crooked grin that I imagine matches his crooked heart. His eyes are dark, like
the window to his soul is closed off.

He nods, shouting at me. “Milady, you
look lost.”

I am about to shake my head, when I
hear a voice from behind, “I would say she looks fine. Look at that figure.
Even in a riding dress, I can tell she is ripe for the picking.”

I turn to see another man. He too holds
a dagger. The horse turns and I see a third man approaching us from the woods.
They match, like creepy pirates from a story. “Don’t force us to injure the
horse.”

I turn to see a fourth man with a bow
and arrow. He has his arrow pulled like he’s Robin Hood, but he’s pointing it
at my horse’s heart. I put my hands up instantly, “I won’t. Please don’t shoot
him.”

My heart is racing. I am from a place
bad enough that I know exactly what it is they want from me. “I don’t have any
money or jewels.”

The first man I saw smiles, “I’m
certain you have something we lack.” And there it is. I shake my head, feeling
close to tears. “I can get you money and riches.”

The man shakes his head, getting
closer. “Milady, we have riches enough. We are highwaymen. We see sufficient
numbers of men on these roads. It’s the lone ladies we are always shorted on.”
I feel a hand on my leg.
 
I look
down as one of them has reached my horse. I kick at him but the man with the
arrow looses it. It soars directly below my nose. I jump, screaming. More hands
reach my legs. I grip to the horse as he tries to take off, but the reins are
taken from me. The saddle is undone from below and I’m pulled from the horse
with it. I scream again but a greasy hand crosses my lips. Another hand slides
across my chest, hugging me tight to someone. I close my eyes, screaming and
kicking. My legs are grabbed. I feel the fresh air reach my bare legs as they
are flung about.

“What sort of nickers are those?” One
man asks and the others laugh. A hand slides up the back of my leg.

“NO, NO, NO!” I kick again, knocking
someone back.

The strangest thought reaches my mind.
I know a rhyme I used before or I saw used. I whisper into the tight grip of a
man’s arm against my muffled mouth. “Mother of love, mother of grace,
teach
these men a lesson on disgrace.” Images of fire
burning flesh fill my mind. I can almost smell the char of their bodies in the
air. As hands paw me, I hear a scream that is louder than mine. I open an eye
to see only three men, each with a startled look on their face. They are frozen
and all looking in the direction of the blood-curdling scream and rustling bush.

Did my rhyme work?

The man screams like he is burning
alive and then stops. The man with the bow stands, pulling an arrow. A flash of
black is there and he is gone from my sight, but screaming from the rustling
bush. One man runs from us and the last man holds his dagger, ready to fight
whatever the dark thing is.

Did I conjure it? I back away from the
man, scrambling to my horse. I am completely under the horse
who
is tied to a branch and pulling at his reins. His feet scratching at the dirt
only adds to the things freaking me out.

The man with the dagger screams into
the woods, “COME AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!”

The darkness that I imagined was a
man,
creeps from the woods. It is not what I thought. It is
a beast. I scream, seeing the horse-like size of it. The man with the dagger
trembles but tries to look strong. He swings at the huge wolf.

The wolf looks at me. I stay perfectly
still, shaking my head softly. “Please, don’t hurt me.” I whisper through my
tears. It is then, when our eyes meet that I realize it is one I have seen
before. Only then I watched him through a mirror, not face to face with him in
the woods. His wolf face and body are completely transformed.

Bash is not a man in any way. He is
fully wolf. He lowers himself and growls, turning his attentions back to the
man. Even past the anger in them, I can see the grey of his eyes is the same as
it always has been. He snarls at the man, lunging. The man screams as Bash gets
his arm in his mouth. The man grabs a second dagger from his belt and stabs it
into Bash’s side. Bash cries out in a whine but doesn’t let go. He drags the
man to the ground, moving at an alarming speed as he gnashes his teeth and
tears the screaming man’s throat out. He licks the wound several times and then
looks back at the dagger in his side. His wolf face lifts to meet mine.

I’m crying and gripping to the horse’s
foot. The horse sees Bash and tears from its reins and me. He dashes off into
the woods, whinnying and kicking. I grip to the dirt as the wolf limps to me.
He growls in my face, hot breath tickling my cheek.

I sob silently as he turns and faces
the dagger to me. He whines again and lowers his face. With a trembling hand
and courage I did not know I had, I reach for it. I grab the hilt and take a
breath. I close my eyes and pull the blade from his side. He drops to the
ground in front of me and passes out. Blood trickles down his dark fur.

“Bash!”

I run my fingers through his fur for
the wound. It’s deep and bleeding badly. I tear off a sleeve from my dress and
hold it against the wound. There is something below the surface of his fur
changing. It’s a strange sensation, like bones snapping into place. “Bash, be
okay. Please don’t leave me here.”

I hold the cloth to the wound, looking
around for an idea or an answer. I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even
know how he found me or why he followed. It makes me happy and sad all at
once,
regardless of the fact I don’t even think I have a
heartbeat anymore. I think it’s frozen, stopped and scared. I am stunned, still
gripping to his damp fur. The snapping and popping continues, like it is deep
in his body. I grip the fur, lowering my head to his massive body. He is nearly
the size of the horse that has abandoned me. I lie against him and close my
eyes, holding the cloth to the wound.

He is going to die in the woods,
leaving me completely alone.

I can feel my tears leaking from my
eyes, rolling down my cheeks and dampening his fur. The popping and snapping
gets worse. I jump when a loud one happens. He lifts his wolf face, howling
into the silence of the woods. I jump back, scrambling away again. I reach down
into the dirt and grab the bloody dagger I pulled from his wound. I hold it
pointed at him and
watch
as his howls become screams.
His body tears apart, and then from the bloody pulp I swear he has become, he
turns back to Bash. Somehow, he is a man.
A screaming man.
I drop the blade and jump to him.