Half Lost (10 page)

Every Second Is Precious

It's raining heavily as me and Nesbitt walk back to the camp. Celia and Adele are there, cautiously walking around. Donna is standing by one of the tents. She looks somber. Everyone is quiet, taking it all in: death and destruction, and the ground turning to mud. I go to Kirsty. Gabriel's jacket covers the top half of her body; one of her legs is bloodied and bent horribly.

Gabriel is sheltering under a tree. I tell him, “Van's dead.”

“Yes. But we can't move her. Can't bury her. Can't even put a blanket over her in case her body has been booby- trapped.” He looks up at me and asks, “How can people do this?”

And I think of the Hunters I killed in their sleep and say, “I don't know.”

But I know how to do it, how to be a brute, and Gabriel's done plenty of it himself. And then I realize that's what he's thinking: that we've done this before, he's done it before—killed groups of Hunters and left ten or twenty bodies.

“And Annalise?” Gabriel asks.

“She's alive. I saw her in the distance. They've taken her prisoner.”

“Or just taken her,” Gabriel says.

And I know he's right. She'll either be chained and tortured, or showered with praise and glory: a prisoner or a hero. But much as I hate her I still don't believe she's Soul's spy.

Gabriel says, “Let's go away. Leave. Now. There's nothing to keep us here.”

And maybe the sensible thing is to walk away but I'm not sure where I'd go. And much as I want to live in a quiet place by a river, to do that while Soul carries on killing and torturing doesn't seem possible. This is about more than Annalise; it's about Soul and his system of persecution and terror.

Celia comes to stand by us and asks what I've seen. I tell her about Annalise and how close we were to the Hunters.

“Did they see you?” Celia asks.

“No. I was invisible.” But then I add, “Nesbitt wasn't. They might have seen him. I don't think so but . . .”

Celia rubs her face and looks around, saying, “They can't have planned to come back or they wouldn't have closed the cut. But, still, if they did see Nesbitt or hear the explosion . . . We need to leave anyway. There's nothing we can do here.”

Me and Gabriel go to find Nesbitt. He's sitting on the ground by Van. I crouch down on the other side of her body and glance at him, expecting to see tears, but there are none. The rain on Van's face makes it look like it's her who's crying.

I remember the first time I saw her, at the house in
Geneva when I thought she was a man. She was always so beautiful: stunning, literally breathtaking at times. So sharp and quick and clever. And I remember the stakes and potions she made to help Gabriel recover from being stuck as a fain. How cool she was in that whole process. And then with Pilot and Mercury and with Annalise too. She was always calm and calculating, but also wise and funny. And now she's nothing. She'll be pecked at by birds, eaten by insects. And the Alliance has lost another important person. Another Black Witch gone. Another witch with huge power and it's all lost, lost to the Alliance and lost to the world. And instead all we have is a corpse lying in the mud. There is only Soul to blame for this. He's to blame for it all: for my father's death, for driving Annalise and me apart, for the deaths of so many Black and White Witches. Soul is the root of the problem.

Adele comes and says, “Celia says we have to move out. Now.” And Gabriel and I go with her, leaving Nesbitt alone with Van for the last time. Celia is waiting at the side of the camp near where we entered it. She looks impatient.

Gabriel says, “Nesbitt's just coming.” But I know he won't want to leave Van. It's not good having to rush away.

“Have you seen Donna?” Celia asks.

“Not for a while,” Gabriel replies.

We stand there and wait. No one comes. Celia mutters something about discipline.

“What do you want to do?” Gabriel asks her.

“I want us to leave five minutes ago.” Celia shakes
her head. “Gabriel, go and find Donna. She can't be far. Nathan, tell Nesbitt we're going. We leave in ten minutes, with or without them.”

I trudge back toward Van's body and am not surprised to see Nesbitt still by her side.

I tell him, “We have to go.”

He leans over Van and says something to her quietly. I step back, not wanting to hear. Then he stands but keeps his back to me. I think he's crying again.

I tell him, “Donna's disappeared. We need to find her.”

Nesbitt says, “I saw her a few minutes ago. This way.” And he sets off into the trees, scanning the ground. I think he's looking for her tracks.

“What do you think?” I ask him. “Has she run off?”

“Wouldn't blame her. She's hardly been welcomed into the Alliance and now she's seen that this is what's in store for her if she's given the grand honor of joining . . .”

We reach the edge of the trees the way the Hunters went.

“You don't think they're back already, do you?” Nesbitt asks, looking to the distant hillside.

“They closed the cut. They can't get back so quickly.”

But I'm wondering if they have another cut, or if the cut they went through only took them a mile or two away and they're already on their way back.

Nesbitt curses the Hunters under his breath.

“We need to find Donna,” I remind him.

“She was here.” He points at the ground and I see the smudge of a trainer print. “But . . .” He glances up and around and says, “She could be anywhere by now.”

“What do you think?” I ask him.

“She'll come with us if she wants to. It's up to her,” Nesbitt says, and he heads back to the camp. I stare out over the fields, wondering if Donna has run off and given up on the Alliance. She's spent the last few weeks as a prisoner, and today she came a meter away from being blown up. I wouldn't blame her for leaving.

I'm about to turn to follow Nesbitt when the sun comes out to my left, low in the sky and partially hidden by a long bank of clouds. The clouds are clearing already and the meadow in front of me is flooded with warm light. After the rain it's a good thing to feel sunlight on my skin. The land around looks lush, smells fresh. And even with all this death so close to us—because of the death—it's amazing to see the beauty of the world. It's so beautiful and so brutal. It's a reminder that every second of life is precious.

I turn to see Nesbitt disappear into the trees. And further to my right is Gabriel, waving me over to join him. I look back one last time the way the Hunters went and the sun dips below the cloud, turning it red and orange and lighting up the grass and trees and everything, and I'm lit up as well. It's all golden. It's beautiful. And then I realize where I've seen this glow before. I turn to Gabriel.

The blow to my stomach is a surprise, though I know it
shouldn't be, and I'm aware that my body is flying up and backward and through the air. I'm still in the air when the sound of the shot reaches my ears, and another shot follows as I fall and I'm not sure if I've been shot once or twice as the ground rises up and forces the air out of me.

I try to take a breath but my lungs won't do it.

I can't breathe. And I know it's the same as my vision. And I know I'm dying.

The Magic Bullet

Can't breathe
properly. Not enough
air.

More shooting. Shouting.

Can't bre
athe.

Gabriel is above me.

Can't breathe
. Can't breathe . . 
. can't breathe . . 
. can't breathe.

“
Heal, Nathan. Keep healing.”

I concentrate on my lungs. Heal them . . . fill them with air.

Better.

Gabriel's ripping at my shirt, saying, “You're going to be OK. You're going to be OK.”

I can't breathe again. Already!

Heal my lungs again.

Better.

Breathe.

Breat
he.

But my stomach's on fire.

I try to look at my stomach but can't lift my head.
Fuck! Fuck!
I move my hands to my stomach. It's hot and wet and Gabriel pushes my hands away, saying, “Lie still, Nathan.”

“It's hot.”

And my gut burns and burns and I know it's a Hunter bullet and poison but worse than ever.

“It's burning me. Get it out!”

Gabriel holds my wrists down and shouts for Celia.

I heal again. I tell Gabriel, “My healing isn't strong enough.”

And already the burning is coming back.

I clench my fists and stare at the sky and think of something that isn't burning.

Then when I can't stand it anymore I heal again.

The burning goes.

“Gabriel, if I—” But the burning is back already.

I stay with it, let it build. I can heal once more maybe.

Let the burning build.

And build.

Shit!

And build.

Gabriel is looking at me.

Now heal. Relief. That's so good.

“Gabriel. I don't think I can do it anymore.”

“Yes, you can. Celia's coming. She'll get the bullet out.”

“Gabriel . . . I can't.”

“Nathan. Don't give up. You can do it, Nathan. Please.”

And the burning is back.

And building. Faster and hotter.

Why aren't the
y coming?

It's too h
ot. Too hot.

Concent
rate on not screamin
g.

Don't scream. Don
't scream.

Concentra
te on breathing.

Cou
nt.

One.

Two.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Try to heal. T
ry.

Celia's calm voice: “I'll be quick. Keep him still. Hold his legs.”

Celia's face. “Nathan, try to hold still. I've got to cut the bullet out.”

And my arms and legs are pulled down and my stomach burns hotter.

And I don't want to scream.

“I said hold him still!”

I feel the knife in my stomach.

I don't want to scream.

“It's not here.”

“What? What?”

“I can't find the bullet!”

“It's still in there. It hasn't gone through him.”

“I know, but I can't find it.”

And the burning is spreading up to my chest.

Celia says, “I think it's moving. I think the bullet is moving inside him.”

A magic fucking bullet.

And Gabriel is there telling me, “We'll get it out. You'll
be OK.” And our eyes meet and I try to tell him that I want to stay with him but I can't heal anymore and it's so hot.

And I feel like there are flames burning through my stomach and chest.

And every breath is like fire inside me.

I don't want it to hurt anymore.

And I close my eyes and Gabriel is shouting at me to open them and to heal.

I want it to stop hurting.

Celia says she's going to try next to my heart.

And Gabriel's shouts get fainter.

* * *

Wallend appears above me. I don't know how he got here. Wallend, who tattooed me and tested me; he must be back to do more. He's bent over me and I'm tied down on the ground. Wallend has a branding iron, its end heated to white. He holds it up to show me and then puts the iron to my stomach and I'm burning up, writhing as much as I can to get away from him, but the iron goes in further and deeper. And all I know is that I want to die. But I don't tell him that. It's my secret. I know I'll die soon.

Hurry up and die!

Wallend has gone. Gone! I need him to kill me and I scream at him, “Kill me!”

Or am I already dead
?

It's dark. I must be buried in the earth. Good.

It's cold.

Am I dead?

I'm in a cell in the Council building: no windows, cement floor, brick walls. It's gloomy but there's light enough to see a figure kneeling in front of me. I walk up to her. Annalise. Her hands are tied. I take the Fairborn out of its sheath. And she looks me in the eyes and says, “I love you. You're my prince. You saved me.” And the Fairborn is in my hands, wanting blood. And I don't know what to do.
Do
I kill Annalise?

Blackness. Peace.

Am I
alive or dead?

I hope I'm dead.

I'm cold. In the cell, not chained to the wall. I look for Annalise but she isn't here. There's a different figure kneeling on the floor. Soul. And now I see that kneeling next to him is Wallend and then I see Jessica and next to her a Hunter I don't recognize and next to the Hunter another Hunter. There's lots of Hunters. The cell is much bigger than I remember. I walk along the line of kneeling prisoners. They're all dressed in black. All kneeling. Heads bowed. I have to kill them all. But the line is long, never- ending. The Fairborn is in my hand but I can't do this with the Fairborn; I need a gun. Where's a gun?

“I need a gun.”

“Shhhh, Nathan. Shhhh.”

“Give me a gun.”

“Shshsh. Rest.”

It's black again. Maybe that means I'm dead.
Good
.

Peace.

I'm in the cell again. I don't want to be back here. It's cold. I don't like it. The prisoners are all kneeling, hands tied behind their backs. I walk along the line of Hunters, hundreds of them, thousands, a never-ending line. But now I've got a gun in my hand. I go back to the first Hunter and shoot her in the back of the head. As her body falls, I press the barrel of the gun to the back of the next head. Squeeze. As I squeeze I say the word: “Die.”

“Die.”

“Die.”

“Shhhh, Nathan. It's just a dream. Shhhh. You're safe. You're safe.”

And I want to cry. I want it to go black. “I don't want to go back there.”

“Shhhh. You're safe, Nathan.”

Gabriel. I want to tell him something but I've forgotten what. I try to move my arm but it's so heavy.

“Rest, Nathan. Rest.”

I need to get moving. Do something. I need to go.

“Nathan. Rest. Try to be calm.”

I'm not dead. I wish
I was dead. I don't
want to go back to
that cell.

It's dark. I look up and see the full moon.

“Gabriel?”

“I'm here.”

“Gabriel.”

“It's OK. You've been ill. You're getting better now.”

“Why can't I heal?”

“You are healing, Nathan. Slowly. There was a lot of poison. A special bullet. Try to stay calm. Please.”

“I could . . .” I'm not sure what I could do. I've forgotten.

The sky is lighter now.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes, I'm here.” I feel his hand move a little; his fingers are intertwined with mine.

“Don't leave me.”

He holds me, putting his hand gently on the side of my chest. His breath is on my neck and it's good. He's good.

“I mean, don't leave me ever.”

“I know, Nathan. I won't.”

“I wanted to die.”

He whispers, “Rest now. Rest.”

He stays close to me and his breathing by me is good.

And later I remember what I could do. It's easy. I could kill them all.