Page 47 of Whispers of Helena
Silas.
Silas.
My mind sendsthe word out with growing insistence, louder and louder within me, until the very night seems to vibrate with it.
Silas.
Stop.
Leave.
His body stiffens,the reaction almost indistinguishable but obvious in the tense stillness. I hold my breath as he slowly scans the yard, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness, but instead of retreating, his hand falters only briefly before returning to the door. With a frustrated tug, he adjusts his hat, then refocuses on the lock. A lump forms in my throat as I realize he’s ignoring me.
I straighten, my thoughts spinning wildly, grasping for anything to force him back. And then, it strikes me—a dangerous,reckless plan. If he won’t stop at my silent call, he’ll stop when heseesme.
Swallowing my fear, I slide off Meriweather, my knees buckling slightly as I hit the ground. Twigs crunch softly under my boots as I inch toward the edge of the brush. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape as I step into the faint glow of the barn’s security light. It casts my figure into clarity, a single interruption in the empty expanse of the yard.
I close my eyes for a moment, my hands clenched at my sides.
Silas.
Behind you, Silas.
My silent pleacarries all the strength and urgency I can muster. He pauses, turning just enough for the brim of his Stetson to catch the light. His head tilts, the gleam of his eyes locking with mine across the space between us.
The moment stands thick in the air; the world contracting around that gaze. I see the flicker of shock, a breathless stillness in his posture. His sharp inhale slices through the quiet, his focus on me now as though nothing else in the world exists.
I tilt my head slowly, the movement meant to make him question, my eyes boring into him.
What are you here for, Silas?
My unspoken question hangs in the air, heavy with accusation.
Come home to me.
The words echo in my mind, incisive and commanding, and I see him falter. Silas turns, his eyes flashing with confusion, then a deeper, darker emotion flickers through: fear. His breathing deepens, but I don’t let up. Not yet.
Keeping my gaze locked with his, I make my final move, myultimate deterrent. With a deep breath, I lower the veil that separates what he sees from who I am. A ripple of something unearthly moves through me, a tingling sensation spreading as my features shift.
From the edge of my vision, I see my hair lighten. I can feel the transformation take hold of me. The night seems to pull in tighter; the wind whipping around my legs as though nature itself answers to my call. My nightgown billows, its loose folds snapping like soft thunder in the sudden gale.
Silas stiffens. The coil of rope falls from his grip as his hands drop to his side, forgetting their purpose. He takes an unsteady step back, his spine hitting the wall of the house. Eyes wide with panic, they dart frantically around the yard, looking for a rational anchor, an explanation for the impossible. When none appears, his hands scramble against the wood behind him, desperate for purchase.
The energy thrumming inside me tells me to press further, to let him steep in his terror, but I resist. Instead, I let the silence drag for a heartbeat longer, his panicked breath loud in the oppressive quiet. Then, with precise control, I release him from my presence.
I step back with a slow grace, my eyes still holding his for one last breath before I pivot on my heel. Each movement is careful, as if reminding him of the gulf between us, between what he thinks he knows and what I’ve just revealed. My bare feet carry me to the safety of the trees, their dark canopies swallowing me whole.
Once under their cover, I let the transformation dissipate; the energy rolling off me in soft waves as I regain my veiled shape. My chest burns from holding back the trembling in my hands, but there’s no time for weakness now. With speed born of urgency, I spring onto Merriweather’s back, her body tensing as she senses my urgency.
I dig my heels into her flanks, the leather of my boot pressing firm. She launches into a gallop, her powerful strides eating up the ground beneath us as we hurtle through the night. The wind tearsat my hair, and the trees blur into dark smudges on either side of us, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
When the open expanse of the pasture appears, I press harder, urging her faster, until the world becomes a rushing void of sound and motion. My heart pounds not just with the exertion, but with the knowledge of what I’ve done, what I’ve set into motion.
Ihaveto make it home before Silas.
Leave
Silas
