Page 45 of Destined Dawn
“It probably has a hole,” Stone mutters, but Rhi’s already striding that way, peering into its hull.
“Looks good to me,” she says, pulling the rope tied to its bow from the sand and beginning to tug on it. We all rush to help her, each taking a grip of the rope and heaving the boat over the sand and down towards the shore. The boat bobs as it hits the waves, salty spray slapping our faces and the cold water making my legs ache. The waves become higher, thrashing ferociously around us as we plow further into the depths and soon my clothes are soaked through and my teeth chattering.
“Get in the boat!” someone yells as another wave crashes over my head and then we’re all scrabbling inside, the thing rocking violently and threatening to throw us out.
We use our magic to propel the boat forward, eyes stinging with salt, boat rocking up over the waves and slapping back down. For a moment I think we’ll never make it past the surf but somehow we do and then we’re floating in flat water, a freezing mist crawling in around us.
“Keep your magic active and alert,” Tristan says, waving his hand through the impenetrable fog. “There are things out here, I can feel it.”
I peer into the gloomy depths of the mist. A few weeks ago I’d have laughed at such bullshit. I never believed the tales of spirits and ghouls lurking about in forests and other supposedly haunted places. But then, I also didn’t believe in dragons. I certainly thought they no longer existed. Now I’m prepared to give anything the benefit of the doubt.
As we sail deeper into the mist, the temperature seems to drop by several degrees and it was already a cold day. We use our magic to dry our clothes out but Rhi still shivers and we all pull our coats more firmly around our bodies, Barone lifting the collar of his leather jacket.
The sea is a lifeless gray color, the seabed lost within its depths and the water remains still and calm around us, despite the constant roar of the waves on the shore.
The mist becomes denser as we drive the boat further, so dense I struggle to see Stone sitting right in front of me or Barone behind me. I can hear his heavy breath though, the slight wheeze in his throat, plus the splash of the boat as it cuts through the water, until the density of the fog seems to swallow all the sound, muffling it completely and the darkness is so oppressive, all the color leeches from the place. No ghouls though. No spirits. Although, I swear I can feel the crackling of something dark and magical just out of sight, watching us, observing us.
I let my own magic flow strongly through my body, bold and aggressive, challenging whatever’s out there, and maybe it is that that holds it at bay, keeps it away.
I start to relax.
I should know better. Hasn’t dueling taught me that? You can never fucking relax. That’s when you’re at your weakest. That’s when they come for you.
The boat slows.
“You hear that?” Tristan asks from the front of the boat and we all strain our ears.
It’s that whistling sound, that wheeze in Renzo’s lungs. Except it isn’t in his lungs. It’s somewhere else in among the mists, whining, pleading. I strain my ears even harder, because I swear, goddamn I swear, it sounds just like … just like …
“Aunt?” Rhi calls out.
But it wasn’t. I swear it was my brother. Calling to me. Begging me to come play. Like we used to. Racing through the trees, chasing one another, rolling around in the dirt.
It can’t be real. It can’t be. And yet, it sounds like him, just like him, so much so that the breath catches in my lungs and my magic wanes, fades.
My brother’s isn’t the only voice I hear. I hear my Maman’s voice too and my Papa’s and the were’s, Jacob, from that cell. I see their faces peering at me from under the surface of the water. Their eyes filled with sadness, and the mist crowds around me, closer and closer like the walls of that cell. The memory of all that pain returning to my body.
“Spence!” my brother calls out.
And then he’s there right beneath the surface, the water rippling and distorting his perfect face. But he’s there. Right there, reaching up towards me, promising to save me.
All I have to do is take his hand.
16
Azlan
“It’s not real!”I shout across the strange sounds ringing in the mist. “We need to keep moving. It’s not real.”
Although it sounds real. So very real. Like she’s just there, hovering somewhere unseen in the mist. All I’d have to do is follow that voice and I’d find her.
I’d forgotten her voice. Soft, gentle, soothing. It’s been so long since I heard it, so long since she kissed my cheek and stroked my head. It slices right through my heart, all that pain I’ve kept suppressed deep deep down inside me, rising to the surface.
I miss her. I miss her so very much.
I strain to hear what she’s saying, what she’s telling me.
But my mother’s isn’t the only voice I hear. There are others too. Drowning out her words. Taunting me. Men I’ve killed. Lives I’ve taken.
