Forbidden (A New Adult Paranormal Romance) (31 page)

Another flash of light, and she stood before a cottage in the Enchanted Forest. The light that filtered through the trees seemed different, of another era. A beautiful woman looked out of the ebony-paned window with hope in her clear blue eyes. The woman’s rich mahogany hair draped around her shoulders like a cape.

“That was me,” the Raven said in wonder. Her voice echoed in the cavern of Snow White’s skull. “How could I have forgotten?”

All rage had seemingly fled the Raven, as though she had been awoken from a long sleep. Snow White was immediately on guard. Was this another trick?

“I remember being someone else,” the Raven said with regret. “But now, I am only Isobel, as I was named two hundred years ago.”

“Two hundred,” Snow White echoed.

“Yes. The longer we live, the more we desire to live forever. You are only sixteen. You will never understand.”

“You have never given me a chance to understand.”

The Raven sighed. “You will have it now. I remember when he came to me like a suitor on his steed.”

A handsome young man cantered into view upon a black horse. He was blond and naked, with large crimson wings that sprouted from his back. He dismounted and strode to the woman, coyly holding out a red-and-white apple in his palm. Snow White recognized the youth from the tapestry back in the Queen’s secret antechamber.

“The devil,” she said hoarsely.

“He has many names. He told me that the secret to everlasting beauty is to remain the fairest in the land. I must put to knife all those who are more beautiful than I and consume their hearts so that their beauty and vitality will live within me.”

A trickle of horror began to spread through Snow White despite her not being able to feel her limbs. The forest shifted, possibly denoting the passing of time. Isobel looked into a mirror. In her right hand was a bloodied knife.

“Because of what I had to do, again and again, something splintered within me. A doubling, if you can call it.” In the mirror, her reflection raised the knife and smiled. “Imogen, I called her. She was the one I called forth to kill for me.”

Every single memory of Snow White’s time spent in the antechamber now clambered to the forefront. She remembered the claustrophobic confines of the closet. The terrible dreams.

A beautiful girl came into the room. “Mother,” she said in an eager voice.

Isobel turned, the knife in her hand.

“Esmeralda,” Snow White said, remembering.

“Oh,” the Raven said sadly, “so you know. “I meant only to wound her, to cut her dewy cheek so that she may be forever scarred.”

Isobel leaped onto the frightened girl, knife upraised. The knife bit into the girl’s face. Abruptly, a diagonal slash appeared from her left eye to the right corner of her mouth.

“But Imogen’s zeal consumed me, and therein, I knew not where I ended and where she began. I relished destroying my own daughter’s beauty.”

Esmeralda sank onto the floor, the crumpled ruin of her face bleeding heavily. The light slowly fled her eyes.

In the vortex of the Wormhole, the Raven raised her feathered head. Her ringed eyes streamed with tears. “Thus I’ve lived in a hell of my own making, too weak to break out of my cycle. So now you know why I must consume your heart.”

Yes, I know, Snow White thought. The twisted reasoning behind it did not make it easier. “So you’re going to kill me right here in this Wormhole,” she said, her heart thudding loudly in her ears.

“A war rages within me. There is a part of me who wishes to kill you, and a part which does not.”

“Then I have only one request,” Snow White went on, marveling that she could speak so lightly of her own death. But the Wormhole and what she had gone through had leached all self-pity from her. Swiftly, she told the Raven about the invasion. “Our kingdom is at stake if we don’t stop this. Help me and I will come willingly to you.”

She realized she meant it too. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

For the first time, the Raven seemed doubtful. “You are with child. What woman would willingly sacrifice her own child?” The Raven realized the import of her own words and then cried, “Oh!”

“I have since learned that there is much more at stake than the three of us put together. So help me, or you will be queen to a wasteland!”

The shimmering light shifted. There came a clap of thunder so deafening that Snow White’s eardrums splintered. She found herself writhing on the ground in agony.

Ground! Amazed, she looked up. She was on a rocky ledge, carved so smoothly that it had to be artificial. Golden walls of indeterminate texture closed in around her, and to her left plunged the Wormhole in all its radiance. The hot air immediately seared her flesh. She felt her skin blistering, as though it were doused in mild acid. Her throat and nostrils burned with the smell of sulfur. She looked down to see patches of her skin turning black and trailing wisps of smoke.

“What’s happening?” she rasped. Her scalp felt as though a crown of fire thorns had been rammed onto it. She touched her head. All her beautiful ebony hair had fallen off.

Aein crept to his feet beside her. A few red splotches were beginning to form on his face.

“We’re in a Wormhole Hive,” he said warily.

She felt his palm on her cheek. When it came away, it wore a bloody slough of her skin. Around them were splintered wood beams and shredded sail. Their vessel had indeed disintegrated.

A little distance away, Gustav whimpered, the blisters puckering his skin into a red and white mess.

“You can both jump back into the Wormhole.” Aein gripped her arm urgently and shepherded her to the edge. “Go now, hurry!”

“No.” She wrenched her arm away. “You and I are going to see this through. What if something happens to you and you can’t make it to your mother? What if you get killed?”

“I’m coming too,” Gustav said. He crept unsteadily to his feet.

Her heart speeding out to him, Snow White said, “No. It is you who should go back to the Wormhole. This is no place to die.”

“I came here of my own free will.” Gustav summoned enough strength to hold his head up high. “Just as you did. You will not deny me front seat to the greatest scientific discovery mankind has made.”

“There will be no discovery if you’re dead!”

The Raven squawked once and flapped her black wings. She cast a massive shadow on the wall. If her skin was blistering beneath all those feathers, Snow White could not tell.

A high-pitched chittering sounded. Snow White turned to see several Sporadeans flying towards them. They aimed their red rods at the little cluster of humans.

“The guards think I’m an imposter,” Aein said tersely. “They were told several days ago that all the princes are dead.”

The Raven flew at the guards with a shriek. The rods sputtered with energy beams that cut through the Raven’s body, but she endured them and wrapped the guards in a tangle of limbs, wings and scorched feathers. Several guards, their gossamer wings broken, fell spiraling into the Wormhole, wailing in despair. One guard fled to the aperture above where skylight gaped.

“Quickly,” said the Raven. Her singed feathers gave off a smell like roasted meat. “Get onto my back.”

Aein helped Snow White and the clearly suffering Gustav up. Blisters began to appear on Aein’s face and arms, but they were progressing at a far slower rate than the humans, possibly because of his biological engineering. What did it bode for them? Snow White wondered. Was Gustav going to be the worst off? The Raven’s back was broad, with frayed but strong feathers that Snow White could grasp in her blistering palms. She clung to Aein even as Gustav clung to her. The Raven took off, ascending to the opening above.

They exited the Hive. The sky was the color of an old bruise and the hot wind seared Snow White’s lungs and stung her eyes. She buried her nose in Aein’s back, taking in the tall structures that looked like gleaming silos everywhere. The ground was red rock and burnished gold.

“Raven,” said Aein, caressing the great bird’s neck, “turn to the right.”

The Raven veered sharply. Silo after silo fell behind like toy buildings. Sensing movement behind them, Snow White turned to see a battalion of flying Sporadeans on their tail. Red pulses zinged across the divide.

The Raven arced her wings and dove. Into the mass of silos and other fluted structures she flew, dancing in and out to avoid crashing into them. The Sporadeans followed, some of them scattering. Several red pulses struck the Raven’s wings. The feathers seared and smoked, but did not catch fire. Instead of slowing, the Raven picked up speed.

“To the caves,” Aein cried. “Over there!”

The Raven shot to the red rocky cliffs in the near distance. Snow White could see that hundreds of cave mouths pockmarked the rock faces. These wore bizarre shapes that ranged from simple ovals to leaves, flowers, and geometric designs. It was becoming more difficult to breathe. Her nasal passageways stung as if the flesh in them had been plucked raw.

Aein was right. Humans could not survive Spora.

“Snow White,” Gustav said softly behind her. His grasp around her waist tightened. “I think I’m hit.”

Ignoring her own difficulties, she turned swiftly. “Where?”

She suppressed a gasp when she saw his face. Wet, glistening and red patches shone on his cheeks and forehead as though he were a burn victim. His eyes were a weeping red. She knew, from the stinging of her own skin, that she resembled him.

He clasped the right side of his torso. His shirt there was singed.

“Can you hold on till we get there?”

She was shocked to see tears running down his wounded cheeks. Gustav never, ever cried. A pang pricked Snow White’s chest.

“Hold on,” she said hoarsely.

From several cave mouths came dozens of Sporadeans. Oh no, Snow White thought. More reinforcements. They were now hemmed in from both front and back. She wanted to tell Aein to ask the Raven to head for the distant wasteland, but Aein straightened his back and waved his arms.

“What are you doing?” Snow White cried.

He ignored her. A cry issued from his throat: “Gnomica!”

A memory beckoned. Gnomica. The name of the cousin he loved but was betrothed to someone else. A lead ball dropped into her stomach. The oncoming Sporadeans did not fire, but swarmed around and behind the Raven. Much chittering filled the air.

A huge Sporadean streamed close to keep pace with the Raven. Snow White was certain this was the beauteous Gnomica, whom she thought resembled a not particularly attractive praying mantis.

“Raven, to the largest cave of them all. Over there,” Aein instructed.

The Raven ascended. Up, up to the highest peak, where the largest cave mouth of all yawned in the shape of a glorious oak tree. They entered the cave, and the Raven screeched to a halt on the floor amongst littered dried leaves and twigs that bore the scent of decaying roses.

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The cave would have been an overgrown replica of a section of the Enchanted Forest, had not every tree in it been dead. The smell of desiccated leaves rose amid the cloying stench of old flowers. If she struck a tinderbox in this place, Snow White was certain it would light up into an inferno.

“My mother will be in her throne room,” Aein said as he vaulted off the back of the Raven. “I must hurry. Please wait here.”

Before he could turn to help Snow White off, Gnomica threw four of her arms around him. Aein did not resist the embrace. He spoke to Gnomica in soft, affectionate tones. Snow White forced herself to look away.

You can’t wipe away his past with your arms and kisses, she told herself.

Aein finally turned to Snow White. “I am sorry. My cousin was told by Dimynedon that I was slain. She became overwrought when she saw me. Gnomica will see to you.” Restlessly, Aein glanced at his cousin. “You will, won't you?”

Gnomica fixed her pineapple eyes on Snow White as Aein fled the cave through a door.

“Here,” Snow White said, helping Gustav off. The boy was now almost completely flayed. He sank into unconsciousness in Gnomica’s arms. “Please help him first.”

The flapping of her wings fanning the dead leaves into a swirl, Gnomica laid Gustav on the floor. None of them spoke as she began to hum. Tendrils of liquid wax seeped from the pores in her abdominal segments like threads woven with spell. They crept to cover Gustav, beginning with the fresh wound in his side. As they broke off from Gnomica’s segments, the tendrils clung to the boy and continued to grow at an amazing pace, lengthening and broadening into a latticework.

Another Sporadean knelt by the Raven and did the same.

Snow White looked down at her arms, wondering if she merited the same treatment. A thin yellow crust was beginning to form over several red patches. Aein’s healing blood once again proving her savior. But at what cost?

The Raven twisted in agony. Her wings beat against the floor, breaking some of the threads.

“Stepmother.” Snow White knelt by her side. “Don’t move.”

The Sporadean tried to hum some more, but the new threads refused to gel with the Raven’s feathers.

“What’s happening?” Snow White asked anxiously.