Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (43 page)

The sheer number of living Sliders is demoralizing, almost petrifying, but I realize it’s just their essence getting to me. And their stench, which is hideous. It’s like being at a slaughter house. Well … I suppose this is one. There’s nothing beautiful about killing. It’s horrific. But there’s so much heroism mixed in, and all of this is giving hope to the world. When tyranny is trying to take over, it’s wrong to hang back and let it happen. You need to take a stand.

Ethan and I jump into the fray, near enough to watch each other’s backs for the first while, but unconsciously separating as we are drawn into our own separate struggles. I don’t mind the ache, the fatigue. I fight beyond it, moving to a soundtrack of death and life. My slingshot works even better, once I locate a good tree to climb.

Looking down, I can watch as Ethan spins and jabs and slices. The guy is a demon with his blades flashing in the filtered sunlight. And a feeling of peace washes over me. I am remembering what Oden had said, about how the Sliders will be saving their final attack until there’s no other choice. This is proof to me Olivia has done it, or at least that she’s found it. I don’t know how she’s supposed to seal it. The Sliders’ last hope is
this
fight. They’d been planning a final and overwhelming victory to negate their loss of an easy access through the layers, but they have misjudged the damage that can be caused by all of us banded together. There’s no way they can comprehend what we are fighting for. Peace and hope. Life and freedom. These qualities mean nothing to them and, without that understanding, there’s no way for them to adequately fight against them.

A loud smashing crunch from behind me makes me jump, and I swear as an uprooted tree howls past my head. It lodges itself in the middle of an approaching pack of wolves I’d been aiming for. The creatures that are not flattened by the tree end up scattering. As I adjust my aim, I slip a little, over-correct, and fall from my perch. Hitting the dirt after snapping through several thin branches, I’m unable to catch a breath. Before I can get to my feet, I hear Ethan’s yell.

Scrambling up, I see a dark streak race past him, heading straight for me. Despite the fact I’d held onto my slingshot when I’d landed, it’s too late for ammo. The wolf is already on me. I’m thrown back to the ground, my weapon knocked from my hand, my head hitting the hard-packed dirt. Blinking my eyes, I try to clear away the mini fireworks display bursting to life above me. The animal’s got me pinned, and it’s going for my throat when a second wolf springs in from the side.

Shoist. They’re gonna rip me apart in no time at all. I close my eyes not wanting to witness it, even as I struggle. I recognize both Ethan’s voice and a thud of a thrown blade, which nearly pierces my ear as it passes less than an inch from the first wolf’s head.

It happens fast and I’m barely able to register what’s actually happening. The new arrival is not going for me; instead, it latches onto the first wolf with snarls and yips and flying chunks of fur and flesh. Ethan dives down, grabs me under my arms, and hauls me away. I help the effort by back-pedaling with my feet, like a tripped-out crab. We collapse behind some rocks to catch our breath, but I raise myself to a crouch and peer around the edge when a wild yipping slices through the cold air.

Stunned, I spin back. “I know that guy! That wolf is Gimpy!”

“He’s injured?”

“No, no. He’s one of the wolves we met in Hunter’s Grove. His leg was shot with an arrow, so I named him Gimpy. He saved me just now. Whew. Jamie’s gonna get a kick out of that. Jamie tried to help him once.”

Breathing back to normal, bodies checked for injuries, we throw ourselves back into it. And everything is going our way. In fact, the Sliders are starting to retreat, and many of the Dwellers seem thrilled by the chase. And I’m feeling elated. Until I hear my name.

Whirling around, my eyes jump over the ruined woods, landing on the guy who has become my brother. No more than fifteen feet away, Ethan jumps sideways through the air and falls hard, his back towards me. Making it easy to see the arrowhead sprouting from the back of his shirt. Holy frack.

There’s no time to think; no one around who can fix this like Jamie would be able to. And no way to reach him anyway. I have no idea where Thunder is—or anyone else who could transport us. Ethan doesn’t have time to lie here waiting for someone to notice us. I do the only thing I can. I race to him, sliding against the dirt, grabbing his arm; I feel for the mist and let us burst through the Barriers.

My fragmented mind is aware of the cold, darkly swirling air, and there’s just enough time and confusion for me to think I’m looking over at Livs’ face. She’s twisting in her seat and her face is a pasty green. “Are you okay?” I mouth, finding it hard to concentrate.

Everything shatters apart and too quickly gets sucked back together, and I am face planted on the ground at the rear of Gunther’s house. Ethan is curled on his side, gasping for air, a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“OWEN! STORM!” I yell, pushing myself up from the ground. “We need you! TOPHER! Anyone? I need help—now!” My voice sounds strong and steady, but inside I’m pure panic. Lots can be done with Shadow medicines. Right now, I’m hoping lots is enough.

Everyone comes running through the back doors, as I’m trying to heft Ethan up the patio steps. Storm listens to my brief command and disappears without question to summon Jamie from the Shadows. Topher, his face grim, scoops up Ethan, like he weighs nothing, and carries him into the house. Callie’s shoved everything off the kitchen table, for somewhere to lay him down. Our other teachers are rushing for supplies, as I’m grabbing everything I can from my satchel. I will not be able to breathe until Ethan can. Olivia would kill me. Ethan totally took the shot for me. It should be me bleeding out on the table. My hands shake and Callie tries to get me to sit down, but I snarl at her. She gives me stuff to keep me busy. I don’t even know what the stuff is; I just set it back down. Then Jamie comes sprinting through the doorway, and I know if anyone can fix this, it’s him.

~~~

T
WO DAYS LATER
and there is still no word of Olivia or Thunder. Ethan is healing and able to walk around. Mostly, he cooks and cusses and wanders away from home, reappearing with split knuckles or scraped elbows and knees, which Jamie patches without asking any questions.

Me? I sit and stew. Think about what it would mean if Livs doesn’t come home, wallowing in guilt for even thinking it. I was concerned, at first, that Ethan would be mad I’d brought us home. But I wouldn’t have changed my choice at all. As I’ve said, Livs would’ve killed me if I’d done anything else. Jamie was fine being called back. He’d been full of details about what was happening at Oden’s fort and how Maddix was doing with his rehab. They’re trying to figure out how to sway time in order to meet up again when things settle down in the Shadows. Our biggest shock when we’d returned, once we were able to focus on being home, was realizing it’s still May. Actually, today is May 27th; we’d arrived home the day after Olivia’s fifteenth birthday. There is no accounting for time. I tell Jamie to give it a rest; but knowing him, he’ll eventually find a link to make time work in his favor.

And so we wait. Albeit, impatiently.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Homecoming

(OLIVIA)

T
HE DRUMMING THUD OF HOOF BEATS
awakens me. I open my eyes and realize I feel as hollow and empty as the Grey that surrounds me. I guess I made it back. Or through. Or whatever. It doesn’t take long for all the overlapping memories to come back, to remember my choices.

My heart cracks, thinking that I have essentially murdered my parents. Would they ever forgive me? Would my brothers ever be able to look into my eyes again? Would Ethan—who’s always been about protecting the younger, the weaker, the innocent—ever be able to get past my stepping back, letting my parent’s deaths happen? Would I? Could I live with myself, face myself? Forgive myself?

I float for days or seconds, watching as a dark shape ascends through the Grey, slogging its way across nothingness to meet me. I feel a deep ache of longing. To belong. To fit. To be whole again. My fingers inch over to my necklace, playing with the dark stone, warm to the touch. This can’t have been what I was meant to do. Did I fail? Is there any hope at all?

And then Thunder is here and I’m burying my face into the nape of his massive neck, blubbering all over his silky coat, letting my heart bleed out. I am nothing. I am so small. How can he stand to comfort me?

Child of my heart
, I hear his low rumbly voice,
I am in awe of you. Faced with choices to test your humanity—choices that would make adults question themselves and their own motivation—you stayed true to who you are. You were willing to risk everything, do it all over again with full knowledge of all the fear and pain and sorrow, so the world could be a safer place. You did this.

You were stronger than I could ever imagine. And you will heal.

I pull back and open my mouth to ask how he could possibly know that, but he stops me with a twist of his head.

I know this because you are still the best of You. The aftermath would not affect you in this way had you truly lost yourself. Nor would you even be here, in the Grey. Most don’t make it back, even if they manage to seal the rift. You have managed both. The rift is mended and you are here.

I swallow a hiccup. “Thunder, how do you even know what happened? What choices I had to make? Or how I’m feeling?”

Because, Child, your soul is screaming. It shares its story with anyone able to hear soul-speak within a thousand mile radius. It’s how I knew to come.

“Did I really bring that creep Slider through and cause the car accident that started it all for us?”

It’s not as straightforward as all that, Olivia Grace. There are layers to the truth of it.

Stupid layers.

Thunder makes a slight choking noise. Like he could read my mind.

 “Is he gone now? Back in his layer? Or is he somewhere out here? Did I release him into our world?”

That is something we’ll be needing to delve into. But things point in that direction. The beast in the Training Grounds?

Aw, shoist. “What do I do now?”

You come home, Child. You drink in the sunshine and fresh air. You watch your brothers live and grow. You have a talk with a certain young man who is currently trying to punch holes through every hidden bit of wood on my property.

And I’ll be darned if my lips don’t remember how to quirk into a smile. I fling myself onto Thunder’s back, dig in my heels and call out, “Thunder, take us home!”

We land at dusk, with a breeze that carries the fragrant smell of spring blossoms and new growth. The sky is streaked with blues and golds, pinks and mauves. The air itself feels flat and uncharged. But sweet. And familiar. Home.

Noise erupts around us. Shouts, slamming doors, running footsteps. I try to mentally step back, let it all blow around me, feeling unworthy of it. But as the arms of my brothers come around me, I feel the last sting of the Sliders break and fall from me. This is it. This is us. These are my brothers and I love them with every ounce of my being. The Sliders cannot, will not, take that from me. I lean in and hug for all I’m worth. Stepping back, I look around. I see faces. Familiar, dear faces. But the one I want to see most? The ground shifts under my feet and I stumble into Gunther’s welcoming arms, his warm brown eyes smiling down at me as he gestures to the back porch, where I can now see Ethan’s shape silhouetted against the lights from inside the doorway.

And in front of everybody, without even caring, I run. Bounding up the steps, I slam against him as he walks forward. I throw my arms up and around his neck, feel him fall into me and hold me up as my legs go weak. I press my lips against his, taste his sweet mouth, feel the quickening of his pulse and unsteadiness of his hands as they travel down my back.

And now? Now I
know
I can begin to find me.

The following evening, the first of June, a Circle Time is held. Though the air is balmy enough to not require it, the makings of a fire await in the pit. Too early for the session to begin, I am sitting alone on the smooth log bench, squished back enough to allow my knees to tuck up under my chin.

Last night, once everyone had calmed down over our arrival, Ethan told me about Xaiben and his clan. My soul weeps with the sadness of it. Seeing we’d stay up all night tearing things down to the smallest detail of would-haves and should-haves, Gunther had been forced to play the Father role, physically removing us to our separate bedrooms, telling the four of us we would talk it out tonight. Share the stories that need to be shared at a full Circle Time, with everyone present. I’ll be recounting my part of the car accident, what needed to be done to seal the rift. What we may still need to finish.

I am still in shock over the losses, but know, with time, I’ll be able to absorb it. The thing with grief is it comes in waves, sometimes gentle and lapping, hardly noticeable. Other times it swells into monsoon-range. And all you can do is let yourself ride it out. Otherwise, it will drown you.