The Havoc Chronicles (Book II): Unbound (23 page)

The satin dress was lavender and flowed down to the floor with a gathered waist, beaded appliqué, and capped sleeves. When I tried it on, it fit as perfectly as if it had been tailor made for me. It was elegant and beautiful.

“Wow,” said Amy when I tried it on. “I am so dancing on the other side of the room from you.”

I looked down at the dress, confused by her comment. “Why, don’t you like it?”

“Oh, I like it, all right,” she said. “It’s gorgeous. That’s the problem. I’m going to feel like a dandelion next to an orchid.”

***

Two nights before Prom I was awakened by the sensation that something was horribly wrong.

I sat bolt upright up in bed, adrenaline causing me to pre-zerk. There were no lights on in the room, but with my heightened senses, I could see clearly. I scanned the room, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

So what had woke me up? 

And then I felt it – that strange sixth sense that told me when creatures of darkness were nearby. It was strong and... different somehow. Not strong enough to be Osadyn, but too strong for Bringers. Unless there was an army of them.

That thought was all it took to transition me into a full ‘zerk.

I grabbed my varé off my dresser and dashed to the window, throwing it open, my eyes scouring the trees for any sign of attack.

I saw nothing.

The feeling of darkness grew stronger, causing waves of nausea to wash over me. Whatever was causing this feeling wasn’t here yet, but it was coming closer.

I leaped from the window and effortlessly dropped to the ground. I flicked open my varé and stood in a defensive posture. I would not be taken by surprise.

A rustle in the bushes caused me to spin around in time to see Eric walking out of the shadows.

“Madison!” he said, his arms held out wide as if waiting for me to rush in for a hug. “I was just coming to see you.”

 I took a step back. This couldn’t be right – Eric was dead.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his arms still outstretched. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

“You’re dead,” I said.

Eric dropped his arms to his sides. “That’s right,” he said. “I am. Does that bother you? Are you prejudiced against the dead? I thought you were more open-minded than that.” He gave me a mocking smile.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just thought we had a little unfinished business,” Eric said, taking a step towards me. “Since, you know, it’s your fault I died and all.”

The words stung. It hurt to have him so matter-of-factly articulate my shameful fears – to know that it wasn’t just my overly-developed sense of guilt, but that Eric himself blamed me for his death.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Eric let out a laugh, but something about it was off. It sounded too harsh, like rocks being rubbed together. “Sorry doesn’t make it better. Sorry doesn’t bring back all those people I killed in Brookings-Harbor. Sorry doesn’t take away your guilt or remove their innocent blood from your hands.” As he spoke his grin grew wider and wider, until it stretched so far his lips actually split open revealing teeth and gums. There was no blood, just the white of bone and the pink of exposed flesh.

Horrified, I took a step back, anything to keep away from whatever Eric had become.

“Stay away from me,” I said, and I was proud to hear that, despite my fear, my voice sounded firm and steady.

“What’s the matter? I just want a little kiss.” Eric leered, the split skin of his face flopping obscenely. “Come on, you gave it up for Rhys, I just want my turn.”

He took another step towards me and I pointed the varé at his chest.

“Keep back.”

“What are you going to do? Kill me again? Fine.” He pushed forward, impaling himself on the blade. The varé sunk in several inches until it passed completely through his chest and out the back. “Now can I have my kiss?”

I yanked the varé out of his chest, ripping more of his flesh in the process. He looked down at the gaping hole in his chest, which to my horror was not bleeding at all.

“Of course, this wound pales in comparison to the way you hurt me when you kissed Rhys.” He lunged towards me, arms outstretched. I spun out of the way and he ran past me, stumbling to a halt. Whatever had happened to him, he no longer had the quickness or strength of a Berserker.

“What do you want?” I asked.

The flesh along Eric’s jaw had continued to rip, and now half of his face was peeling off, exposing white bone and sinew. His eyes rolled up in his head and his voice took on a deeper timbre.

“I want you to feel pain like I did. I want you to know despair and hopelessness. I want to spill your blood and break the seal,” he said, and charged me again.

Watching his face flap as he ran put me over the edge. I simply could not deal with it any longer. My conscious mind retreated, and my body reacted on its own. As Eric ran by, I slashed my varé into his side, cutting deeply into his torso and peeling back flesh.

Eric hardly seemed to notice. “This is all your fault, Madison!” he shrieked and charged again. “Why couldn’t you have just loved me?”

Once again my Berserker reflexes sent the varé slashing out, this time hitting Eric in the shoulder. The blow nearly severed his arm. It dangled limply at his side, obviously too injured to move. By now half of Eric’s face had peeled off and with the other half he glared at me, his expression dominated by an all consuming rage.

“You teased me and led me on,” he wailed. “Made me think we had a future together.”

This detachment I felt was surreal. My conscious mind that was watching from a hidden corner wanted to scream out a denial, to tell him it had all been a misunderstanding – I had repeatedly told him I wasn’t interested. But that would have meant coming out and facing the full force of the mental anguish and pain that awaited me. Part of me must have known that wasn’t such a hot idea and pushed my conscious mind even farther away.

Eric reached a hand up and peeled away the remaining half of his face like a horrific Halloween mask, carelessly throwing it to the ground. His head was now a monstrosity. Bits of muscle and tendon still clung to his skull, and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.

“Now I will sacrifice you and free the others!” Eric raised his one good arm, his hand outstretched to claw me. He charged, a deranged half-dead nightmare come to life. 

And that was when my mind decided it had had enough. 

***

My next memory was hearing my dad calling my name.

“Madison? Madison?”

Strong arms reached around me and tried to push my arms down to my side. But my arms didn’t want to stop. They wanted to continue hacking with the varé.

“Madison, honey, you need to put the varé down.”

And then I was back. My conscious mind returned to control, and I stopped hacking at the pile of shredded flesh and shattered bones on the grass. Numbly, I let the varé slip from my fingers and tumble to the ground.

“Dad?” I asked. How had he gotten here? How had
I
gotten here? My thoughts were all confused.

“It’s me, Madison,” he said. He turned me to face him, away from the carnage at my feet.

I felt hot tears streaming down my face. The memories came rushing back – a horror movie come to life and played out in my yard.

I tried to explain what had happened, but the words wouldn’t come – they were constantly interrupted by wracking sobs.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Dad said. He took me inside, and while I showered he disposed of my carnage covered pajamas. As the hot water poured over me, I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but no matter how much I washed, I still felt filthy on the inside.

I couldn’t get Eric’s words out of my mind. I’d already half believed the accusations that were now burned into my thoughts. And I had just killed him again. Not just killed him, but psycho-serial-killer chopped him up. What was wrong with me?

I put on some fresh pajamas and went downstairs. Sleep was an impossibility now. Even if I could have slept, I didn’t want to face the dreams that surely awaited me.

Dad sat with me on the couch, tucking my head against his shoulder and holding my hand like he had when I had fallen off my bike as a child. He tried to talk with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to engage in conversation.

After a while Dad got up and left me alone on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, doing my best to keep my mind blank and to pretend tonight had never happened.

A few minutes later, the front door opened without anyone knocking. Rhys strode into the living room, his eyes concerned, his expression determined. He stopped when he saw me on the couch, and his features softened.

He started to lower himself to the floor near me, but I was already off the couch, throwing my arms around him.

The night’s events tumbled out of me, a veritable flood of words. “I killed him,” I said, when I was done. “I killed him.”

“No you didn’t,” said Rhys, squeezing me tight. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“Who do I blame, then?” The words were thick and barely half-enunciated.

 “Margil,” said a voice from the entrance to the living room. I pulled my gaze away from Rhys as Dad walked in. He reached out a hand and stroked the back of my head.

“I don’t understand.”

“Margil’s power,” said Rhys, “is over dead things. Just as  Osadyn can control emotions, Margil has control over the dead. He can reanimate a corpse or accelerate decay.

“Eric was already dead. What made him Eric had fled long ago. What you saw was Eric’s reanimated corpse, controlled by Margil.”

“But-”

“He was dead, Madison,” said Dad. “Why do you think there was no blood when you stabbed him? Osadyn had already drained it to break the seal and free Margil. That wasn’t Eric you killed, it was Margil’s power wearing Eric’s already dead body.”

I wanted to believe it wasn’t Eric. I wanted to believe that he had never said those horrible things to me, but it was difficult. “It was him. He knew things that Margil could never know.”

“No,” said Rhys. He pulled me over to the couch and sat me down. He knelt in front of me, holding my hand and looking at me with such a troubled expression that I almost felt I should be the one comforting him. “We know Eric died,” Rhys said. “The seal was broken and Margil was freed. That could not happen unless Eric died. Kara died without a physical cause. That wouldn’t have happened unless her Berserker died.”

I turned toward my dad, who was looking up at the ceiling. He knew firsthand what happened to a Binder when her Berserker died.

“There is nothing to doubt in this,” Rhys continued. “I am one hundred percent sure he is dead. When Margil reanimated Eric’s body, he gained access to some of Eric’s stronger memories. That’s all.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and nodded. “I guess that makes sense,” I said. “It just felt so real.”

Rhys got off his knees and sat on the couch next to me. He put his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he said. “That’s what Margil wanted you to think. These monsters will do anything to gain an advantage. Believe me, this isn’t the worst thing they’ve tried.”

I was tempted to ask what the worst thing was, but my eyes were already burning, and I was having a hard time staying awake. I didn’t want to sleep, but if Rhys was here, I would give it a try.

“Don’t leave me,” I said.

Rhys lifted a hand and gently caressed my cheek. “I won’t.”

With that I closed my eyes and fell asleep. 

The day of the Prom, Mom took me out to get a full makeover – hairstyling, manicure, makeup – the works. Prom had been a defining moment for her, and she was determined to inflict that experience on me.  

After what had happened with Eric, I’d tried to back out of going, but Mom did everything in her power to convince me to still go.

Mom had the haze on her, so she didn’t fully understand what was happening, but she did understand that some close friends had died and that I was grieving for them.