Six (28 page)

Overwhelmed by everything at once, I fall into the same deadly spot. I crumple in on myself and the memory hits me at once, as if a gift from Lana, or my mother, or perhaps both of them.

I am sitting out by the trash ditch at the edge of the forest. My blond hair is tied up into a bun and my cheeks are hot from playing in the fields all day. I am a child. The brown-haired boy sits next to me, his knees pulled up against his chest. The boy holds out his hand, palm closed. I look into his silvery brown eyes in question. He is my best friend—my only friend. He smiles as he turns his hand over and opens his fingers to reveal a small, red gemstone. It glistens, lying in the center of his small palm. My eyes widen as I take in its magnificence. I have never seen something so beautiful.

“I carved it into a heart for you,” he says. “I know you can’t see me anymore so I wanted something you could remember me by.”

I cannot be his friend anymore because I feel less every day. My mother says it is a part of accepting my fate. It frightens me. My friendship with the boy must end.

He moves his open hand, and the gemstone closer to me. This kind gesture confuses me. I shake my head and start crying. The boy takes my hand in his and says things meant to reassure me. My sobbing does not cease.

“You keep it,” I tell him. “Give it to me one day when I feel something more,” I say.

He flinches at my words or my tone.

“My emotions are in it,” I tell him, though my crying muffles the ending syllables of each word.

The boy does not object. He merely takes my hand in his, pressing the stone between both our sweaty palms. “They are,” he says as he taps one small finger against my hand three times. With that tiny gesture I feel better for the moment.

The crying from the memory overtakes me when I surface on my living room floor. I open my eyes to concerned silver brown eyes peering down at me. My hand automatically grasps for the charm around my neck.

“You knew me when we were children,” I say. Finn’s eyes widen in shock. He nods his head in agreement. I sit up and wrap my arms around him. “You should have told me, Finn. Why did you not tell me?” I cry into his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. This new revelation dwarfs my sadness at losing Lana.

“I loved you since the moment I saw you,” he whispers. Now I know he is speaking of when we were children and not when I first recall meeting him in the circle. “I made a promise to your mother. It just wasn’t when I said I did. I made a promise to her the day I left your house, the last day I saw you when we were children. I figured if you never found out or knew, it wouldn’t matter. I love you the same no matter when I met you, Emma. Forever and always,” he says. Though his words are heartfelt I sense the tinge of sadness. It almost makes his sentiments more poignant—more real. I am too stunned to cry anymore. I am heartbroken, but find myself grinning.

I pull away from Finn and look him in the eye. “That means you lied during truth and dare,” I say. One corner of his mouth picks up small grin.

“Lana would be so pissed,” he mutters.

Because I feel all six, the sadness wars with joy and I am okay with it. I think,
Lana is the brave hero who slays the dragon from my storybook.
She would want to do more than slay, though. She would want to ride that beast through the sky as it wails out in fury. She would want to tame it first. She would make it scream her name in fifty different languages before she dealt the deathblow. Because with Lana it was all or nothing in life. She was all.

I will be all.

Chapter Thirty-One

Finn.

I remember the first time I met
her.
Her mother ran me down in the woods. When I realized she was a complete and almost extinct human, I was shocked enough to stand still and listen to her harried pleas. She wanted me to befriend her daughter in hopes of luring her away from the palaces…from the witches. Having that mentality was dangerous, but I decided to meet her daughter on principle alone. I didn’t tell a soul—not even Lana—about the friendship that developed.

“Hi,” I say, approaching her as I amble out of the edge of the forest.

The girl startles a little and I know she at least has one of the six to her name. Fear. Maybe this won’t be a lost cause after all.

“You should not be here,” Emmalina says, looking around warily. Her mother prepared me. I knew she would be different. “It is not safe and I will probably get in trouble.”

Right away, I notice her extremely proper pronunciation and lack of conjunctions, and know she is one of the fated. If her blond hair and extremely blue eyes didn’t give it away, her speech pattern would. Those that are fated to be sent to the witch palaces all sound the same—robotic. Her mother didn’t want her to become a full witch and move to the palaces, but she never bothered to correct her speech. It just sounds odd to me. We are only ten human year olds, for crying out loud. I smirk at the girl, thinking how utterly tragic and beautiful she is.

Her returning smile blinds me. It’s not a half grin. It’s this huge, happy, carefree smile. All of a sudden she could be speaking a foreign language for all I care. I’m done for.

Some people know instantly. It just clicks. Others need to rationalize everything, make a list, stew with the possibilities for too long. Every important decision in my life is made in six seconds. No toiling or worrying—just seconds. I was a child, and I know how crazy that seems, when I knew I wanted Emmalina Weaver as my own. Anything less than six seconds wouldn’t do her justice. Any longer and it would have been wasted time without her in my heart. One tidbit of information my own mother gave me, and that I actually retained, was not to waste time. That time is infinite and not nearly long enough.

As I tick through Emmalina’s seconds, I know she is right. One second: her huge smile fades as she notices me staring at her like an idiot. She laces her hands together in front of her. Two seconds: she kicks the ground, shuffling dirt around. She peeks at me curiously. Three seconds: her tiny finger comes up to twirl a strand of her golden hair. She stares into my eyes, like directly into them. She sighs. Four seconds: she walks toward me and stops to stand in front of me, inches from my face. Five seconds: she brushes my hair out of my eyes. She tilts her head sideways and scrunches her deep blue eyes in thought. Six seconds: I fall in love.

Without breaking eye contact with her, I finally speak. “I’m Finn. Your mother actually wanted me to stop by. Say hello. Maybe be your friend.” I enunciate the word “friend” very thoroughly.

She watches my mouth intently. I will talk all day long if it means she’ll stand this close to me. Her fragrant hair mingles with sweat and she smells indescribably good.

“Want to play?” I say, hoping to distract myself. I toss the ball into the air to make my point. After I catch it, the worn leather feels familiar in my hands. I smile.

Emmalina retreats a step or two. “Maybe I should ask first,” she says. Her blue eyes trained on mine.

“I promise,” I lay a hand over my heart. “I would never lie,” I say.

As if realizing my problem, Emmalina’s dark-haired mother sticks her head out of the back door and waves at us. Emma glances at her mother and waves stiffly. I think for one tiny moment she might run from me. When she focuses her attention back to me, her smile is blinding. I suck in a breath and try to control the nervous smile on my own traitorous face. I want to know everything about her. I crave everything inside her mind. For the first time in a long time I feel like I have a purpose.

Emmalina reaches up to tighten her ponytail. “How do you do it?” Her question breaks the silence.

I wasn’t ready for her to speak, it throws me off, confuses me—mingling with my own thoughts. I run a sweaty palm against my pants. “How do you do what?” My voice shakes.
How do you protect her? How do you keep her from them? How do I turn away and stop staring at her?

She giggles. “Play ball. How do you play ball?” Her eyes stray from my face to the leather ball in the crook of my arm.

“Uh…i—it’s easy. Back up. I’ll throw it to you.” I motion with my hand and mime throwing the ball in her direction.

“I should warn you. I will probably win. Beginner’s luck and all,” she says, stretching her slim arms over her head. A long strand of her blond hair comes loose, framing her face as she walks backwards.

You already have won,
I think. She definitely has more than fear, I realize. My fluttering stomach makes me feel something I never thought I’d feel again.

I feel alive.

The numb empty shell that formed the day Lana rescued me in the forest is melting, disappearing, being replaced by something else entirely. I throw the ball to Emmalina as gently as possible. She fumbles a bit, but catches it. Her laugh comes a second later. She shuffles a little dance and then hurls the ball back in my direction. I catch her surprisingly hard throw against my chest. I know exactly what the numbness is being replaced by…life. Her life to save, and mine to keep. When she catches the ball the second time, she rolls her eyes.

“You can throw a little harder than that, you know?” she says, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear.

I shake my head at her, squint my eyes, and take off. I run after her as quick as I can. “I was trying to be a gentleman,” I growl.

She squeals as her boots kick up dirt. “You cannot catch me!” she tosses over her shoulder. I let her outrun me, but I know I’ll eventually catch Emmalina Weaver. When I do, I’ll keep her.

Forever.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Emma

Ten years later

I have come to recognize life is not about the happily ever afters. It is about everything you gain getting to that point—to the place where you know that silly notions are not silly. They are what fill life. Life with immortality is long. Yet the perfect moments are no longer marred with anything sour from my past. My losses make me who I am. The sorrow has shaped me. Joy makes anything bearable. Fear and anger cause the other emotions to seem that much sweeter. Surprise balances. And love? Well, it truly conquers all. Lana would call that sentiment corny, but I think deep down it was the core message she wanted me to appreciate.

I watch her deftly climb the large tree in our front yard. Though she is human, our darkling DNA gives her an edge and the spells that encase the earth give her immortality. The tire swing no longer occupies her body or mind. She shimmies out onto a spindly limb and balances keenly on the balls of her feet. The limb she stands on bows down from her light weight. I gasp and slam one hand over my eyes. Finn, standing next to me, wraps his hand in mine. It feels like home, like sanctuary, like my world is complete.

One finger taps my hand three times as he shouts, “Careful, Lena. You’ll give your mother a heart attack.” I drop my hand and watch her, half with pride and half with motherly concern. She pulls the bowstring back and releases a sleek arrow. It hits her target dead in the center. Her laughter, the most beautiful sound in the world, rings out. She looks to us for approval. I smile. Finn releases his grasp on my hand and strides to stand under her in the tree.

“What’s a heart attack, Daddy?” Lena asks. She wipes her golden ringlets, cut short by preference, out of her eyes, and then makes a purposeful leap out of the tree into Finn’s outstretched arms. He raises our little girl over his head. They spin around in one full circle, her arms out, cutting the air as she turns.

I love them.

Lena’s giggling echoes and her sharp gaze finds mine. I see so much in her eyes. Feeling nothing is simplistic. Blinding numbness. True frailty is feeling and enduring everything and understanding that somehow, no matter how odd or unexpected,
everything will be okay
.

Her eyes are blue.

Epilogue

Finn.

“What the fuck did you do now, Lana?” I yell. My voice echoes, sending my question right back to me. I never swear out loud, but understanding what Lana’s done infuriates me. I know exactly what she’s done—I just want to hear her say it.

Another one. Another fucking darkling that will be beyond saving. I can’t see past that. Dealing with that again is too much. Lana is the queen of doing stupid shit. I tell her all the time she’s going to get herself killed because of her lackluster decision-making.

I take a closer look at the stray darkling and startle. She looks different…really different and not in an unattractive way. The complete opposite is true. Her curves are perfect from her calves all the way up to her neck. Staring isn’t optional. It’s like this darkling was made to torture my senses.

Then I see them—her eyes. They’re blue. Like
hers
. But there is no way in hell this is
her
. My fucking heart doesn’t know that. It’s slamming against my chest. I feel exposed without a shirt, like maybe the girl can see what she’s doing to me by just standing there. Staring at me.

She extends her small hand toward me and it takes all my control not to jump back, away from this Emmalina ghost.