The Book of Dreams Forgotten: (A Broken Creatures Novel, Book 2) Read online

  “Oh , do you?”

  He shoved floppy curls from his freckled face with one hand, and was all but strangling Tathri to his chest with the other. “You’re tired of me wanting to follow you everywhere like a lost puppy.”

  Alright, so maybe he did know. “Except, I’m not ‘tired’ of it. I’m concerned by it. Danny, I know what happened to Ethan.”

  “And I know what happened to your family.”

  I mean, all the immortals I encountered knew somehow, so why not an eleven year old boy? I didn’t even bother asking where he’d snooped to gather the information. Instead, I used this newfound truth. “Then you know I understand loss, and that I’m not just pulling your strings when I say: it’s unhealthy. We all move on in our own time, in our own way, but how we move on is what matters most. I learned that the hard way, and for five years, I sat alone in this shop, wasting my years in grief. When I know that’s not what they would have wanted for me.”

  Danny shook his head, sniffling from the cold. “Not that easy, boss. My brother, I was supposed to protect him. I told Mom I would. And I didn’t.”

  “There was nothing anyone could have done to help Ethan, Danny.” It was a truth I myself was still trying to come to terms with.

  He toyed with Tathri’s wet nose, the dog playfully biting at his fingers, brown and green eyes shining with affection. “Maybe,” he whispered. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Our parents, they’d found me and Ethan three years ago, just like I found Tathri. In the orphanage, there were so many perspective guardians that came by and loved Ethan. He was four and cute and easy. But then they would learn that it was a package deal, that I had to go with him and they would back out of signing any papers. But not Joel and Elaine. They saw us together one day, sitting apart from all the other kids, and they said they knew we were the ones. And to be honest, I knew it, too. They were old and couldn’t get around much, but loving and kinda silly. Joel, Dad, he had this big mole on his left cheek that he called Lucky, said it helped grow their favorite apple tree in the backyard.”

  Tathri leaned up and began licking the boy’s chin as his voice threatened to crack. “They loved that tree, boss. So when I found them one morning, their bodies all wrong, neither of them breathing, I buried them beneath it and didn’t tell anybody because I knew they’d take us back to that place.”

  I thought of the images on the slide show, the bloated corpses. Could dark energy be contagious when inside of a human? After all, it was airborne. Had Joel and Elaine unknowingly infected Ethan?

  “A few months later, men came by and put a red sign on the door. But Ethan was sick at that point. I didn’t know what they’d do with him at the orphanage, so I took him and I ran. Until a man told me about you, said you could help save Ethan, but now he’s gone, too and . . . and I hate when you leave because . . .”

  “What if I never come back,” I finished.

  “Everyone leaves eventually,” he said quietly.

  “But I told you, Danny, I’ll never leave you. Not forever. It’ll be a cold day in hell if I leave this world before you do.” A figure of speech, seeing as, technically, I would be leaving this world in a few weeks.

  He let out a shuddering breath. “Doesn’t make it any less scary. When you leave, it feels as if you’re never coming back, like I’ll be left alone forever. And if I’m the only one left, then what’s the point in being alive, boss?”

  It was a good question. If everyone we know and leaves, why go on?

  To my surprise, it was thanks to Danny that I knew the answer.

  “Ever hear of passing the torch?” I asked, kicking at the high pile of snow beneath our boots.

  Danny shook his head.

  “When I was younger, your age actually, my dad taught me everything there was to know about running the coffeeshop, said that when he died, he wanted to pass the torch down to me. What he meant was he wanted me to take care of the shop when he was gone.” I pocketed my hands and looked out at the city once again. “Everyone dies, Danny, but for those who’re still alive, it’s up to us to lead the next generation. To use everything we’ve learned to help those who don’t yet understand.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still just a kid.”

  “Hey, you’re a eleven. And I’m sure you’ve learned a lot. More than some adults. One day you’re going to have to use that knowledge and wisdom—and you’ll have to be sure you’re using it the right way, or you risk leading someone down a dark path. Do you understand?”

  He studied his dog, turning my words over in his head. “I think I do.”

  One step at a time.

  “Good.” I balled my fist and held it out to him. After a moment of inspection, he closed his hand bumped his fist to mine, smiling.

  “Now go wash up and get ready for bed,” I said deadpan. “You’re mopping up your and Tathri’s footprints before prep.”

  With a groan, our talk forgotten, he made for the ladder, leaving me staring down at the snow-covered roof, mulling over my own advice.

  I only wished I had someone to tell me if what I was set to do was right or wrong.

  *****

  A violet dress dripped from the nape down to the ankles. A precious locket at her neck, gifted upon her arrival here, and with raven-night curls descending down her frame like the fall of a willow tree, Jera felt beautiful. A beauty to combat the flutters at the pit of her, the anxiousness she could never banish when the time for supper neared.

  That she had to spend it with the heathen that was her blood sister was of no concern, for she had gotten quite good at ignoring the female’s existence.

  She sat at the empty table, then. While it was unlikely for the Maker to arrive late to a meal, she knew well how occupied he could grow with his tasks.

  Why he visited the world of humans, she could not fathom, but so long as he returned, she would wait forevermore. Even in this treacherous, lifeless world Ophelia had destroyed, with its despicable skies of dark, infinite clouds and everlasting charred lands.

  She would stay in this castle, if the Maker so wished it.

  She would play along with this futile attempt to control her twin’s sporadic powers, if he so wished it.

  She would allow her sister to live—if he so wished it.

  Time passed. She buried her thoughts with images of his eyes. Banal of color, yet so easily did they shine with brilliance enough to light five worlds.

  Her world.

  Her heart ached.

  So unusual it was, his tardiness.

  She rose from the table and left the great hall. Perhaps he was in his study, though she would have heard him from her boudoir. The archives?

  The castle, ever growing with its spiral arches and endless rafters, was a scaling, colossal beast. Crimson walls lined with glass pillars, murals denoting the tale of creatures far and wide, those from above and those below. Firelight ruled these halls, seeming to dance with a mind all their own as she traveled room to immaculate room—

  Below the mezzanine, the great doors to the ballroom opened.

  She scented him, a fresh rain and nightshine despite the cloying aroma of fire that took over this realm. Heart racing, she turned to the stairs to greet him. Until she heard the light laughter trailing in after him.

  Ophelia appeared at his side and together they were a pair to wrench the heart.

  Always had he been a sight to behold, hair like copper beneath a flame, trimmed neatly, short curls tucked behind his ears. His visage was always tired but pure, the faint blemished lines at his mouth from his time spent ruminating in his study on projects to indulge, she loved them. The loose, grey robe he adorned, fashioned around the core of his wings, it fell over evidence of his strength, but always was she drawn to his eyes, as they carried love enough to slay the blackest of hearts.

  Eyes he currently regarded Ophelia with, having not noticed her standing just at the peak of the spiraling stairs.

  “You were stunning,” he praised.

  Sickly humble
, Ophelia blushed fiercely. “The new heart you gave me, it must be working.”

  Pungent bile rose on Jera’s tongue.

  Her sister’s powers, chaotic, enormous, was a product of her immense dark energy. A substance which dwelled heavily in Ophelia’s heart. Each time she used her powers, it was this fatal organ the substance attacked like a hellstorm, rusting its chamber until it crumbled to dust.

  How long before this new heart rusted?

  How long before the Maker visited Jera’s bed chambers again?

  “Let us not fill our head with such talk,” the male suggested, then, with the snap of his fingers, the empty ballroom floors began to fill. Wooden tables manifested from thin air and on their surface were meals ranging far and wide, steaming as though freshly brought from the roaster.

  When the Maker plucked up a golden apple from a bowl of many and bowed as he offered it to her, Ophelia giggled but shook her head. “My sister, she’s likely waiting for us. It’s long past mealtime.”

  Pulling her close, he chuckled, such a sweet noise. “This moment is yours, light of lights. We would not want to sully it with her presence.”

  Jera’s stomach sank.

  “But Ha—”

  He swallowed her sister’s words with a kiss, those wings flaring as his happiness spread into their channels. The room began to hum with a joyful noise and, food forgotten, he whispered, “Dance with me?”

  Jera could hear the breath stolen from Ophelia’s chest, could feel the love radiate from her core as she breathed, “Yes.”

  And all at once, as she watched the two of them twirl and twirl, she wished her sister dead.

  “Ophelia~” he purred at her ear.

  She wished her dead.

  “I love you with all that I am and will ever be, light of lights.”

  Rage flooded her eyes. Rage spilled down her cheeks, warm, saltine.

  Look at me, she willed, but the Maker looked to none other than Ophelia.

  Dance with me, she despaired, but the Maker spun none other than Ophelia.

  Was this truly the price she deserved for the sin she’d done to her homeland? This loveless prison, fated to watch the only one she’d ever truly loved wrapped in the embrace of someone who shared her face?

  Was she so hideous inside?

  Was she so terrible?

  She made to vanish, to step back into the shadows where she existed best, but a sudden cough gave her pause.

  Down below, still wrapped in the Maker’s embrace, Ophelia’s lips had turned crimson beneath the sudden flow of blood. Another cough, wet and harsh, and her sister was clutching her chest, her heartbeat having gone unstable.

  “Perhaps . . .” she rasped, stumbling back. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.”

  Distraught, horror painted his face shades darker. “Your practice, it was too much—”

  Ophelia shook her head. “I need to learn to control it. I want to . . .” More hacks, more blood. “I want to see the human world with you. I have to learn . . .” Her sister’s words were drowned as she struggled to lash in every breath. Black streaks of charged energy danced around her fingertips like lightning, flaying the Maker’s robe.

  “My light of lights, I am so sorry,” he mourned, cradling her to his chest, blood seeping into the fine fabrics. “I truly thought this heart would be the one. I truly thought . . .” He shook his head in distress, soundless, for what could he say?

  Had he truly believed a new heart would contain her sister’s sporadic energy? Especially given where he’d gotten it . . .

  Jera watched as they perished to their private chamber, and suddenly, it was not tears to stain her face—but a smile.

  Ch. 18

  “You’re making the right choice by going through with this,” Inoli said.

  Not that Jai needed to hear it.

  She’d only needed one night to think it over. It was either go through with the bizarre plan or watch her world fall apart. During her pondering of it all, she came to understand why it was the dark elf truly chose her. It wasn’t because of her superb knowledge or ruthless streak when it came to it immortals.

  It was because she was the only one who not only understood immortals, the nature of the forced bond and the risk of entering the Shatters, but she was also the only one likely to succeed with the bonding process. The least likely to turn into a splattered corpse.

  Any other normal human would be running screaming in the other direction or uncomprehending of the bond’s intricacies.

  Any other HB agent would be plotting the dark elf’s—and the Sanctuary itself—demise.

  While she herself craved the latter, she understood the importance of why she was chosen for this—and what would happen if she declined. There would be no one else better suited to successfully bond with the stoney male currently seated across from her.

  “You know, even immortals can get frown lines,” she warned him.

  His face went unchanging.

  The three of them were in a room somewhere in the Sanctuary. Ten days here, she’d begun to lose track of where she was in the mansion. It was easier to just accept the little things about a room to help identify it. But this one?

  There was nothing in it. No windows, no furniture, not even carpeting. Not to mention, it was freezing, which meant they must have been somewhere below ground level.

  “Remember what I’ve told you,” the dark elf said, watching her closely.

  The three of them sat on the floor in a perfectly space triangle. They’d dressed Jai in all white, which effectively made her feel like a sacrificial lamb—which she more or less was, given what was about to happen.

  She nodded. “Yes, yes. Let’s see: don’t panic when my consciousness and heartbeat begins to fade; the death is momentary; try to stay as relaxed as physically and mentally possible, and think happy thoughts. Did I get them all?”

  “And at no point throughout the initiation are you allowed to change your mind,” Inoli added.

  “Sounds a lot like selling my soul to the devil.” She looked over at Graves. “Which I’m still not convinced isn’t the case.”

  “Lie back now and take deep and steady breaths.”

  “Roger.”

  She did as told, surprised when Graves moved to recline directly beside her. As if they were hospital patient buddies. His heat was volcanic and for a moment, she studied his face as he stared up at the ceiling where the room’s only light shined down on them.

  She couldn’t get over the savage set of his face, the kind you might see in passing and grip your purse that much closer to your body. If she was one to carry a purse. At the same time, even after witnessing what he was capable off—what all immortals were capable of—it wasn’t fear she felt when he stretched out this close to her, but a strange fascination.

  Jai wanted to cut him open and see what lay on the inside.

  Black eyes flicked to her as if he’d heard her thoughts and quickly she turned away.

  “Ready?”

  They nodded in unison.

  There was no hesitation, no prep. The dark elf extended both hands and the two bells at her ear rang once, a green light beaming from them.

  Jai dropped from her body.

  The feeling of vertigo was instant, the pound of nausea disorienting her thoughts with whiplash. Darkness washed over her, her body humming as billions of tiny tingles glided beneath her skin even as her consciousness soared high above her.

  Calm. She had to stay calm.

  She felt her teeth gritting, her hands clenching, but signalling her body to relax was like screaming into a void.

  A cut-string kite, her awareness drifted.

  Something tugged at her stomach, her head. Something vital. Draining from her. Lethargy was a loll of crashing waves, dragging her farther and farther away.

  Relax, she reminded what few pieces of her consciousness remained.

  Another tug at her core and she felt herself detach completely, spiraling aimlessly through a sea of mem
ories, faces. Her father’s face, her mom’s, they were little floating lights behind her eyelids, asking her how it was she’d gotten here and when she was coming home.

  Soon.

  Another tug.

  The lights died. She was alone in an unnatural darkness where not even time itself dared touch. A pit, absent of self. A clean slate of absolute nothingness.

  This was death.

  It was peaceful here. A slumber of tranquil quiet, placidity moving through her metaphysical body. Violence, hatred, the eternal churn of the grand machine, they all ceased and for the first time in two decades, Jai’s mind stopped with it.

  Until a blinding light exploded inside of her.

  She woke screaming, cold arms encasing her, silver mirrors staring down at her. Inoli was inches from her face.

  “You have to stay still,” she urged, but there was a fire poisoning her veins, and her head . . . it was heavier than usual, something at the back of her mind . . . something missing . . .

  She screamed again as that same blinding light tore through her head and the dark elf held her closer, smelling of jasmines and safety.

  Jai’s skin crawled, and that fire in her veins, she had to get it out. Now. But even as she clawed at her flesh, the fire only burned hotter, corrupting her core, searing her chest.

  “Get it out of me!” She dug into her arms harder, faster. Whatever it was, it was bone deep, some place her nails could never excavate.

  “Jai, calm down. Look, we succeeded. The fusion was a success.”

  She didn’t care. She didn’t care about any of it. Only the pain and making it go away. She scraped harder, on the verge of going mad.

  “Jai, be still.”

  Her body froze, and that empty black patch in the back of her head stirred.

  Graves loomed above both her and Inoli, his eyes on her but looking at something much deeper.

  The irritation didn’t ebb, the searing itching against her. Yet she couldn’t move a muscle, invisible binds ensnaring her limbs. “It hurts.” That voice, that miserable and wretched sob, was that hers?

  “I know,” he said not unkindly, and then he bent down and scooped her from Inoli’s grasp. “Now sleep. The rest will be discussed when you wake.”