Book 1 - Page 14 (1/2)
Though we’d gotten rain, the breeze felt hot and dry. Like a scarf out of the dryer rubbed against my cheek.
When it blew again and harder, Mom frowned. “Um, just let me check out the Weather Channel really quick.” She grabbed the remote for our kitchen TV and turned it on.
The screen was divided between three harried-looking field reporters, the trio talking over each other. One of them was the guy who’d been all blasé while at ground zero for Katrina.
So why was he sweating profusely now? “Sightings of bizarre weather phenomena in the eastern states . . . get a shot over my left shoulder . . . just look at those lights, folks . . . is that the sun rising?”
The second reporter looked like he hadn’t blinked in a week. “Temperatures spiking . . . fires in the Northeast . . . there’s no cause for panic,” he said in a panicked voice. “Radiation spikes . . . reports of aurora borealis as far south as Brazil . . .”
The third guy’s microphone shook in his trembling hand. “We’ve lost contact with our London, Moscow, and Hong Kong bureaus . . . all reported similar events”—he pressed his ear com—“what’s that . . . New York? DC?” he said, his voice scaling an octave higher. “M-my family’s in Wash—”
One by one, the feeds cut out. Blip. Blip. Blip.
“Mom?” I whispered. “What’s going on?” Why is your face paler than I’ve ever seen it?
She glanced past me; suddenly her fingers went limp. The ice cubes clattered to the floor.
I lurched to my feet, my ankle screaming in protest. I was too scared to look behind me, too scared not to. Finally I followed Mom’s gaze. Across the now-clear night sky, lights flickered.
Crimson and violet like Mardi Gras streamers.
I’d seen this very thing during Matthew’s first visit. It was the aurora borealis. The northern lights in Louisiana.
They were utterly mesmerizing.
As Mom and I both crept toward the front door, that hot wind intensified, beginning to howl, rattling the wind chimes around the farm. The horses shrieked in the barn. I could hear their hooves battering their stalls, wood splintering.
They sounded terrified—
But just look at those dazzling lights! I could stare forever.
From the east, the cane rustled. A ma.s.s of fleeing animals burst from the fields. Racc.o.o.ns, possums, nutria, even deer. So many snakes erupted from the ditches that the front lawn looked like it shone and rippled.
A wave of rats roiled in flight. Birds choked the sky, tearing at each other or dive-bombing the ground. Feathers drifted in the winds.
But the lights! So magnificent they made me feel like weeping with joy.
And yet, I didn’t think I should be looking at them. Had Matthew said something, warned me? I couldn’t think, could only stare.
The ma.s.sive Haven oaks groaned then, distracting my attention. Mom didn’t seem to notice, but they were moving, tightening their rain-soaked limbs around us. They spread a s.h.i.+eld of green leaves over our home, as if readying to defend it.
My cane seemed stunned, standing rigid, even in that wind. As if sh.e.l.l-shocked.
They know what’s coming. They know why I should . . .
Turn away from the lights! “Mom, don’t look at the sky!” I shoved her back from the door.
She blinked, rubbing her eyes, as though coming out of a trance. “Evie, what is that noise?”
A roar was building in the night, the loudest, most harrowing sound I’d ever imagined.
Yet Mom’s demeanor grew icy cold. “We are not going to panic. But we will be locked inside the cellar within thirty seconds. Understood?”
The apocalypse . . . it was now. And Mel was out there alone.
“I have to call Mel!” Then I remembered she didn’t have a phone. “If I drive across the property, I can try to catch her!”
Mom clenched my arm and swung me around toward the cellar.
“I’m not going down there without Mel! I have to get to her!”
I lunged for the front door, but Mom hauled me back, her strength unreal. “Get in the cellar NOW!” she yelled over the roar. “We can’t risk it!”
The sky grew lighter—hotter. “No, no!” I shrieked, fighting her. “She’ll die, she’ll die, you know she will! I’ve seen this!”
“You both will if you try to go after her!”
I flailed against Mom, but couldn’t break her hold. Arms stretched toward the front door, I sobbed, thras.h.i.+ng in a frenzy as she dragged me back to the cellar stairs.
When I clung to the doorway, she yanked on me, peeling my fingers from the doorjamb. “No, Mom! P-please let me go after Mel—”
Then came a shock of light—a blast of fire that shook the ground—my eardrums ruptured—
A split second later, the force of the explosion hurled us down the stairs, the door slamming behind us.
Chapter 14
DAY 246 A.F.
REQUIEM, TENNESSEE
“Arthur, what was that?” Evie asks.
I blink. And again. I’d been utterly caught up in her tale of the Flash. “What was what?”
She shakes her head hard—as if to throw off her drug-fueled fog.
Good luck with that. I am a master of concoctions, unparalleled in chemistry; the only reason she is still awake is because I want her to be.
Everything is moving along according to my schedule.
“I thought I heard a thud downstairs.”
She likely had. I use the s.p.a.cious cellar as my lab and containment facility. One of the little b.i.t.c.hes down there was probably straining to reach the waste bucket. I’d left it just close enough to give them hope.
I never miss an opportunity to demonstrate the G.o.dlike power I wield over my subjects.
“Probably rats,” I tell this one, inwardly laughing at my joke. “Just ignore it. Please go on.” I’m eager to hear more of Evie’s story.
Even though I believe little of it.
She tilts her head and gives me an appraising glance. “Arthur, what were you doing before the Flash?”
I’m taken aback. None of my visitors has ever asked me this before, and for a moment I grope for an answer before settling on a lie. “I was preparing to go to college in the spring. Majoring in chemistry at MIT.”
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been interested in chemical concoctions, in the trans.m.u.ting of one substance into another. A chemistry degree would’ve given me a good base for what I truly wanted to study.
Alchemy—the ancient occult art of potions and elixirs.