Undertow (23 page)

“For what it’s worth, if you had never met Kian, your Dad would never have lived anyway, right?” I asked, looking at Ana.

She turned to me as she played with her bracelet. It was nearly the same one that Raef had given me a few nights ago. I felt as though years had passed since the bonfire.

“At the time I wasn’t thinking about that fact, but I know it now. When I learned that Kian had returned I was very angry. And seeing him all the time is like reliving the good and the bad. I’m just trying to come to terms with everything,” said Ana, getting back to her feet.

“Will you ever forgive him?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But he’s hoping I will.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

She paused, her look distant. Remembering. She nodded, “As strong as ever.” She turned to me, “Eila. You should know that if you feel a connection with Raef, he undoubtedly feels it as well. It is one of the most potent links in their supernatural world. For either party to feel that electrical draw, the other must as well. Like magnets, you would not feel it unless he did equally.” 

Her voice became quiet, “You feel it, don’t you? A need so powerful it’s like reaching for air when you’re drowning. Finding water when you have been lost in the desert.”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Make no mistake. Raef feels all that you do as well.”

I sat there, frozen. In my mind’s eye, I ran through all of the moments I had spent with Raef. When he pulled me from the hall at BHS. When he touched my face outside the locker room.  When he slid the bracelet onto my wrist that night at the beach.

Those were not moments of a guard and his charge. Those were moments of affection. Of caring, for me, and not because I was Lunaterra. He felt for me as I did for him, but he refused to let it through. Absently I twisted the gift on my wrist.

I had not noticed Ana had begun moving boxes again until she dropped one loudly on the floor by the bed. “Let’s get this done. There’s a big, hairy arachnid waiting for you,” she said with a smile.

             
“You know, you could let a girl’s mind wander briefly once in a while,” I replied in mock protest. The music switched again to a pop chart song. It was infectious. Perhaps it was the understanding that we loved two immortal boys, or the understanding that they loved us, but the need to break loose was uncontrollable.

Ana and I started to dance and lip sync. We acted like we were twelve with not a care in the world. We needed to be kids. We needed to be free. 

Ana slid over to the radio and cranked up the music. I hopped onto a box and danced like my life depended on it. Ana started singing at the top of her lungs and I was laughing at her crazy rendition of the song.

When the song finally ended and switched to a slower tempo our faces were flushed, but our smiles were huge.  Ana wiped her short hair back from her face, “Oh man. I need some ice water. You too?” she asked, still laughing. 

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.

“I’ll be right back,” she said leaving my room. I waved her on and hopped down off the box. As I was reaching for the radio to turn it down, I heard a horrific crash, then silence. I froze.

“Ana?” I yelled, but nothing was retuned but silence.

I knew with chilling certainty that she had fallen down the stairs.

“ANA!” I screamed and ripped the phone from my radio to call Kian. As I ran for the door, dialing, the phone slipped from my fingers.

I looked down to find where I dropped it and as I did something rock hard struck me in the chest. I was knocked backwards onto the floor, my lungs screaming for air.

It took a moment to focus on the figure in the door. I gasped as I made out the face of the young man from the bridge, with one distinct difference: his eyes were like asphalt.

I drew breath to scream, but he reached down and grabbed me by the throat. I hung onto his forearm as he pulled me from the floor and carried me by the nec
k with his one outstretched arm, slamming me against the far wall, causing a crack in the rock-hard horsehair plaster. My sight was swimming with little flashes of black stars and I blinked madly, trying to clear my vision.

             
He leaned close to my face, his hand on my throat as his lifeless eyes studied my own. “Where’s the diary?” he growled. I was on my tiptoes as I tried to keep his grip on my neck from becoming a hangman’s noose. He didn’t look like he was more than seventeen himself.

“I don’t know,” I managed to say.

His face was mere inches from my own. “Do not lie,” he hissed, his hand tightening around my neck causing my head to feel like it would burst.

“I’m not lying,” I wheezed. “We’ve been searching for it.”

              The boy looked at me closely, his eyes the color of a raven’s feather, obscuring any whiteness. They reminded me of a doll’s soulless, glass eyes.

He raised his free arm and traced his finger down the curve of my face. My fear slowly gave way to a strange form of brutal confidence – a darkness within me that whispered murderous thoughts.

“I can feel your rage,” he whispered, brushing his lips near my neck, tempting his senses as he felt my life-force pulse. His hand traced farther down my face, down my jaw, and along the artery in my neck.

The voice inside my head sung words I didn’t understand, but I could feel the desire to kill build within me. My sight began to blur around the edges, tunneling my focus on my attacker.

“While I cannot draw from you, I could still snap your spine,” he said forcing my head to slowly turn, exposing my neck to him fully. “What a thrill it would be to kill the last of your race. To hear your neck crack and watch the life flee your frail body.” 

My peripheral vision snapped to black and the voice became a physical
hum, which burned in my chest and flowed down my arms. The heat pooled in my hands that were clutched tightly to his arms. His grip on my neck loosened and for a fleeting moment, his face looked strained . . . and surprised.

He glanced down at my hands and ground out several choice words
as he leaned in close to my face, “Don’t piss me off girl,” he said, and slammed me back against the wall once more.

I instantly saw the disco ball stars again, and a searing headache replaced my burning hands.

“Try that again and I
will
kill you, orders or not. They want you and that damn diary, but that bitch Elizabeth has done something with her beloved book, therefore you will have to do for now.”

He hauled me away from the wall and started to drag me toward the door, but I was knocked free of his grasp by what felt like a wall of iron. I crashed into the boxes and tumbled to the floor. From behind me, I could hear glass breaking and what sounded like furniture being smashed.

I managed to scramble to my feet and I saw Kian fighting with the boy. His face was paler than usual, his eyes entirely black and he growled like a beast from the underworld. Gone was the handsome, young man that I knew and Ana loved, replaced by an enraged, avenging angel trying to protect me. 

They wrestled, smashing into furniture, pounding on one another. Their movements were lightning fast and hard to follow, while the carnage within my room grew. Suddenly they were still and Bridge Boy was standing over Kian, who had been stabbed through the side with the broken leg of one of the chairs.

I screamed for him, terrified he was going to die. Kian, clearly injured, slowly pulled the sharp wooden spear from his body as he tried to get to his feet.

My attacker strode toward me, but in a blur of snarling blackness, he was slammed up against the far wall that he had pinned me to moments before. The boy struggled against Marsh, who had suddenly launched into the room and now was attempting to rip out his throat. As he fought to keep the snapping jaws away from his face, Bridge Boy didn’t see Kian coming.

In one coordinated movement, Marsh leapt away as Kian reached in to the boy and swiftly snapped his neck. The boy’s instantly still body crumpled to the floor at my feet. His black eyes, fading to a normal green, stared at me, lifeless. I could barely catch my breath. I was unable to look away from the unmoving teenager at my feet.

“Eila? EILA!” said Kian, stooping down. “Are you hurt? Are you alright?” 

I was so shocked at what had just occurred I couldn’t find words to answer him. He finally managed to put himself in my line of sight and placed his strong hands on my shoulders. He looked directly at me and I saw that his eyes were back to that spectacular blue. 

I swallowed and finally managed to speak, “I think I’m okay. Thank you.” I said breathlessly. Blood was soaking through his white shirt. “No!  You’re hurt!”

I reached out to his side but he quickly grabbed my hand. “Don’t touch it! You can’t touch my blood Eila. Remember?” I nodded slowly, recalling the deadly nature of his blood for my kind. 

“Don’t worry, it heals fast. Eila, this is important: Did you invite him in?” asked Kian, nodding toward the boy’s body.

“No,” I replied, certain.

“Are you absolutely sure?” asked Kian.

“Absolutely. I did not invite him in,” I said, solid in my recall. I glanced at the teen, crumpled near me. “Is he . . . dead?” I asked, feeling a bit sick.

             
“Very,” said Kian, somewhat absently, his mind lost in thought. He sat back on his heels, thinking for a moment. “The house has been breached. We have to get out,” he said, standing and pulling me to my feet. He looked at Marsh who seemed to know exactly what he meant. The massive black animal darted out of the room.

             
“What do you mean ‘breached’?” I asked, worried by Kian’s own stratospheric sense of guard.

             
“Something allowed him to enter. If he can enter, so can others. We need to get to the boat. We will be safe there.”

             
From the floor below, Marsh started barking rapidly. “ANA!” I gasped, remembering the crash I heard before I saw Bridge Boy. Kian looked at me sharply.

“I heard her fall down the stairs. Before he attacked me. She must have been thrown. Or pushed!”

              Kian and I ran out of my room, though I was having trouble with my balance. I braced myself against the hall, my head pounding from the impact with the wall. 

We got to the top of the back staircase that led to the kitchen and, to my horror, Ana lay at the bottom of the stairs, motionless. Marsh was standing over her and barking up at us. Kian was down the stairs in the blink of an eye as I made my wobbly way down as best I could.

              Kian looked to Marsh, “Go check the rest of the house and the grounds! NOW!” Marsh looked one more time at Ana and bolted out of the hallway and toward the parlor.

             
Kian leaned down next to Ana. He touched her face lightly. “Ana?” he asked. Her eyes fluttered opened and searched the room, finally settling her gaze on Kian. Her breathing was ragged.

             
“I’m going to help you,” he said running his hands down the back of her neck and along her rib cage. Ana winced as he touched her side and rage flooded his face. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it better, I promise. You’re going to be okay,” said Kian, caressing her face with the same hands that just broke my attacker’s neck.

He leaned across to me and spoke under his breath. “She has several broken ribs and one has punctured her lung. It’s causing her to have trouble breathing and is filling with blood.”

“WHAT? Oh my god, we need an ambulance!” My hands shook as I tried to organize my thoughts. I needed my phone. Where the hell was it? SHIT – it’s still in my room! I started for the stairs but stopped in my tracks when Ana spoke.

             
“Can’t . . . breathe,” she rasped. I knelt down next to my friend and clutched her hand.

             
Kian touched her face, “I know, but I can fix it.” Ana looked panicked and shook her head
no
. Kian leaned down to her.

“Ana, listen to me. I can fix this, but I need to hurry. Your lungs are filling with blood. Please, let me help you,” he pleaded.

“KIAN! We need to call 911! NOW!” I yelled, starting to fear for my friend.

“There is no time,” he snapped, looking back to me. “She will not survive that long.”

Fear gripped me like a vise as I realized my friend might only have minutes left. I was instantly on Kian’s side and dropped to the floor beside her. “Ana. Let him help you. PLEASE,” I pleaded, my voice cracking as I fought back tears.

             
“Dad,” said Ana, her voice starting to gurgle as she slowly began to drown.

Kian was becoming more desperate, talking faster. “I could not save your father. I know you don’t believe that but it’s the truth. If I could have, I would have saved him. I will not turn you. Your heart has not stopped. Please let me help you,” he begged. Leaning down, he placed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Do not leave me. Please.” 

She looked up into his eyes then to me. I was mouthing the word “please” over and over as a tear escaped the corner of my eye. She looked back to Kian whose own face pleaded the same and finally gave a small nod.