Nevermor (10 page)

“Of course I
knew you were there,” Nix assured him.  “But you’re
supposed
to be on
the other side of the path.”

“It’s quiet,”
Sly said as if it was an apology.  “Rifter will return soon.  I was thinking of
going back.”

It was wrong of
Rifter to make them wait like this.  Nix wasn’t worried that something had
happened to him, but if Rifter was going to be gone longer than expected, he
might have told them so in the beginning – or at least sent Whisper back to let
them know.  But Rifter always did what Rifter wanted, and that was all.

“Not me,” Nix
said.  “I want to get a first look at what he brings back.”

“If anything,”
Sly said smugly.  “How many nights has it been?  But suit yourself.”

Sly was gone as
silently as he’d approached, sounding like the wind in the branches – as light
as a squirrel scratching at the bark.  Nix knew it was getting late, and the
later it got, the more serious the threat of nightmares became, but he would
stay here until he saw the familiar beacon that would signify the return of his
brother.

Alone once
again, he settled back into the shadows to wait.

2

Wren couldn’t
say how long she had slept, but she knew that she had drifted in and out of
sleep, back and forth for a long time.  When she would open her eyes, she could
see only darkness, and she remembered the hood that covered her face.  Her
body, during that time, was limp and she felt completely weightless, as if
floating on water, letting the current push her along.  At times it was hard to
breathe, which would lead her to pass out again.  This repeated until she woke
up to find that the hood was gone from her head.  Finally, once again, she
could see.

The night sky
was above her, twinkling with so many stars.  The ground beneath her was solid,
and she brushed her hand against it, feeling the textured surface.  It was
stone.  She could hear the waves rushing in and out, and she smiled to herself
as she sat up.

Wren looked out
over the sand and the sea, and it was even more beautiful than she had
remembered.

I made it!  I’m
here! 
Her
heart was filled with joy – but she didn’t understand why she was alone.

Rifter?

Her brow creased
as she remembered him, knowing that he had brought her here, but he didn’t seem
to be nearby.  She looked to both sides, but the answer was clear.  She was
alone.  He had put her down on a slab of rock and left her on the beach.  Was
this how he intended for it to be?  He had brought her here and now expected
her to fend for herself?

But why not?  It
wasn’t as though he owed her anything.  He didn’t even know her, after all.

Where were Henry
and Max?  She knew the answer to that before she’d even thought of it.  Rifter
hadn’t brought them here; it was only her.  Maybe he had gone back after them
now?  She supposed that was all she could hope for until she saw the boy again.

Wren slid off
the rock, standing there a moment as her feet recognized the earth.  Her legs
were a bit wobbly after her flight, but once she had decided they wouldn’t cave
beneath her, she dared to take a step.  She looked around, but she was unsure
of where to start.  She had been excited to come here, but now it all seemed
very lonely and desolate.

I hope Rifter
comes back
,
she thought.  She didn’t want to be alone. She wasn’t sure she could survive by
herself, even if she did have fantastic ideas for tree houses and huts by the
sea.

She walked down
the beach a short piece, resolving not to go very far just in case he came back
to look for her.  Even if she was alone in the night, she couldn’t deny how
good it felt just to be outside in the fresh air.  She couldn’t remember the
last time she had filled her lungs with clean, untainted air.  She wondered if
her body knew what to do with it.

Henry and Max
will like it here.

Wren walked
leisurely, stepping down to the water to let her feet play in the surf.  She
held up the end of her dress and watched as her feet sank deeper when the waves
came in and pulled the sand out from around them.  She stood there for a while,
but still she was alone.

Deciding that
she wasn’t gaining anything by this, she walked a little farther.  Was it best
to keep going?  Was he coming back at all?  Where would the land take her if
she kept following the line of the beach?

Wren walked
along, but was quickly gripped by a strange notion.  Someone was following
behind her.

She caught her
breath, standing very still, halting in step.  As soon as she had, she began to
second-guess herself.  Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped.  Instead, she should
have kept going as if nothing was amiss, but it was too late.  In fear of the
thick presence, imagining that it was coming closer to her as she stood there,
directly behind her and aiming to swallow her up, she turned around with a chill. 
There was no one.

But there was a
shadow on the ground.

It was the
figure of a person, and Wren had assumed it to be the shadow of a flying boy. 
She felt relieved and looked up, expecting to see Rifter flying there with his
shadow cast on the ground, but he wasn’t.  It baffled her that the shadow was
alone, unattached, but she suddenly understood what she was looking at.  Rifter
had told her about this before.

A mimic – it
attaches to a host.
 
I don’t want that thing near me.

The idea didn’t
suit her.  She turned as if she could distance herself from it, but it
followed, slithering toward her like a snake.

No! 
Before she knew
it, she had started running, holding her skirt as she tried to keep her footing
on the sand.  Looking back, she saw that the thing had come up off the ground
to pursue her, standing on the same plane after making itself appear
corporeal.  It looked like a human body with arms and legs, but it had no
distinguishing features to say whether it was male or female, beautiful or hideous. 
Maybe that was what frightened her most about it, or perhaps it was the simple
fact that it was chasing her down, and it was coming on
fast
.

Wren didn’t have
much hope of getting away.  The shadow-thing was upon her before she’d gotten
far, grasping for her with arms that were like the wind.  She was surprised
when she fell, but couldn’t say whether she’d tripped or if the thing had
pushed her down.

She shrieked and
rolled over, panicking as she tried to fight off what wasn’t really there.  She
tried to focus on the dark being, but it was black and full like the deepest
night, and it was only an outline – a hint of a person.  She could feel its
cold hands grabbing for her, however.

As soon as it
touched her, the dark thing took shape –
her
shape.  She was holding its
hands as it held hers, and she could see her own curls tossing about as the
thing fought with her.  Wren couldn’t get away from it – couldn’t kick it off. 
The dark shadow didn’t make a sound as Wren groaned and flailed.  It didn’t
scream as she did.

She kicked at
it, causing a terrible fuss, and finally managed to flip it over onto the
ground, where it promptly flattened against the sand.  Its hands met her hands,
its knees against her knees, and it was stuck.  It had formed to her.

“
No
,”
Wren objected with clenched teeth, clawing at the sand, but it did nothing
except distort the blackness of the shadow.  It was still there.  It wasn’t
going anywhere at all – except where she went.

She could feel
her heart beating furiously, thudding against her chest.  Wren felt an unusual
dizziness as her head began to swim.  She couldn’t keep herself from blacking
out.

Wren rolled over
onto the sand and the mimic did the same,
mocking
her as she fainted.

3

What was real? 
Was any of it happening?

Wren was
exhausted from her fight with the shadow, and yet still it had won.  She could
see it stretched out beside her when she opened her eyes, elongated against the
ground.  She could barely keep her eyes open this time –
So tired
– but
it was the sound of an unfamiliar voice that shook her awake.

“I think it’s
alive.”

“Is it a dreamer
or a wanderer?”

Wren was feeling
groggy, though she wasn’t sure if it was from lack of sleep or the absence of
mental clarity.  Her head was heavy, and she couldn’t quite sit up.

“I think she’s
real.”

She felt the
sharp tip of a boot nudge her in the ribs, and she groaned as she rolled over. 
The moon was large as ever, but the darkness of the night did not allow her to
see more than a shadow standing over her.

Another mimic?
  No, this one
had features that she could scarcely see.  She noticed the folds of his clothes
and his strands of dirty hair.

“Well, aren’t
you a pretty thing,” he observed.

“Rifter?” she
asked, though it didn’t sound like Rifter.  The voice was rough, the accent
crude.  Another figure appeared, stepping up to join the first as they examined
her.

“Did she just
say something about the Rifter?” the other man asked.

“Ohhh I get it. 
He’s finally wised up and got ‘imself a lady.  Too much time with sticks an’
pebbles would make even a boy go crazy.”

She heard a
round of wicked laughter.

“I think, you
know, since he’s left her here, he must be done with her.  Wot say we give her
a try?”

What?

Wren was aware
enough to know what that meant.  She saw a hand stretching out toward her,
reaching for the neck of her gown, but she managed to swat it away with a sharp
slap.

“Oh-ho-ho!  I
think there’s some fight left in her!”  The man seemed amused and pleased at
the same time.

Wren pulled
herself up as if she’d been shocked.  She didn’t need more motivation than
this.  She staggered back, and now she could see them a bit better in the pale
moonlight.  They were men – all much older than she was.  Their skin was dark
and weathered, though she could not make out any distinct features.  She could
see, however, that they were all carrying weapons, and there were more than two
of them.  There were, perhaps, at least five, but she was too panicked to
count.

They smelled
unusual, like weeks-old stink coated with something else, and eventually she
realized that it must have been the too-sweet stench of liquor.  She was not
entirely oblivious to it.  The Devil at the factory had often smelled of it.

“She’s so
fresh,” one of them said.  “Looks so innocent, don’t she?”

“I found her
first.  I get first turn to ruin her.”

Run!
  Her brain
urged her on, but it took a moment for her body to react. Wren turned on her
heel and tried to speed away.  She had kept herself untouched for years, and
she wasn’t going to let this happen now.

She had only
just turned when she ran directly into another of those men who had slipped up
behind her.

“Whoa!  Not
gonna stay fer the fun?” He chuckled darkly at her, like rocks grating
together.  His breath was putrid in her face, his teeth rotten, and she turned
away as he leaned in to try and kiss her.  “Come on; don’t be a little bitch…”

Where was
Rifter?  She remembered what he had told her – that she was unable to be hurt
if she was a dreamer – but she didn’t think she would be so fortunate now that
she was here in physical form.

“Migh’ as well
pretend to enjoy it,” the man hissed into her ear.  He was squeezing her arms
so tightly that she thought each of his fingers might leave an individual
bruise.  The others were approaching behind her, and soon there would be too
many holding her down.  She couldn’t hope to get away.

Who are these
men?  Where did they come from? 
Wren didn’t care quite as much as she
wanted to get away from them.

“Go ahead and
squirm a bit if you want.  I do like a fighter.  Jus…  What the
hell
?”

Wren dared to
look, seeing that the man had now lifted his eyes to peer over her head.  The
ruffian tensed, his eyes rounding in fear.

“It’s
him
!”

A moment later,
Wren was shoved to the ground, completely forgotten as the man reached for his
gun, but before he’d even managed to withdraw it, a red line was drawn across
his throat and he fell to the sand beside her, clenching his neck as blood
flooded over his fingers.

He made strange
gurgling sounds, his eyes bulging – and Wren was too horrified to even scream.

She crawled away
from him as well as she could across the shifting sand, but once she had
distanced herself she could see what was happening.  The men who had confronted
her all had their weapons drawn, and in the midst of them, there was a young
man in a coat of leaves, and he was too swift for any of them to comprehend.