Part 14 (1/2)

Chapter Fourteen.

The First ”What's happening?” I murmur with my eyes closed.

Did Lex's spirit take over my body again?

I crack one of my eyelids open, and for a heart stopping instant, I swear I see a pair of red, glowing eyes staring at me. When I blink, they're gone.

Taking a few uneven breaths, I peer around the tent, relieved to be looking through my own eyes and not Lex's. All relief erases, though, when I spot Blaise and Wrath pummeling each other.

Blood drips from Blaise's nose and covers the front of his s.h.i.+rt and unzipped jacket. On the opposite side of the tent, Ryder is pinned to the ground, enduring blow after blow. Beside him, Reece is strangling Zinnia with the chain, but Zinnia has her hands clasped around his throat.

I want to run to them, but I don't. I feel too ... different, like I don't really exist.

I rotate my arms in front of me, noticing the translucency of my skin. ”What's happening to me?”

”G.o.ddammit!” Blaise's scream pulls my attention to him.

He uppercuts Wrath in the chin, and blood gushes from his mouth. But Wrath just laughs, flas.h.i.+ng a b.l.o.o.d.y smile. Then he cranes his blood-soaked fist back, ready to strike. Blaise veers to the right, jumps over a broken table, picks up the trunk, and hurls it at Wrath. Wrath's eyes widen for a flash of an instant before the trunk smacks him square in the face. The contact makes a sickening sound, and then Wrath drops to the floor like a bag of bricks.

Blaise doesn't miss a beat, das.h.i.+ng toward a body on the ground.

I lean over, trying to see who the person is. My breath catches in my throat. It's ... me.

Blaise drops to his knees at my side and presses his finger to my pulse. He curses, leans down, and puts his ear next to my parted lips. Another curse leaves him, and then he positions his hands to my chest, and his arm muscles flex as he pumps my heart.

”Come on, breathe, dammit,” he growls. ”You can't die on me now.”

My body lies motionless, my skin is pale, and my lips as red as the sky. My long, brown hair is sprawled out across the dirt, and flecks of quercu surround my head. I look hauntingly still, and if I had to guess, my skin is probably icy cold.

”Come on, Allura,” Blaise pleads as he places his fingers to my temple. He closes his eyes, his forehead creasing in deep concentration. He mutters words under his breath, growing frustrated, then withdraws his hands and lowers his lips to mine.

I rub my eyes and blink a few times, watching Blaise try to breathe life into me. ”How can this be possible? Am I ... dead?”

”No, you're recharging using the moonstone hidden underneath the ground. No one knows it's there, or I'm sure they never would've built their camp here.” A woman about five or six years older than me materializes by my side.

Her raven black hair is matted, and she's dressed in a ratty s.h.i.+rt similar to the one I used to wear when I lived in the channels. Her transparent skin makes her face and body look boney and sunken in.

”You're a Grim.” I skitter away when she steps toward me.

She freezes. ”Not entirely.”

I reach to grip the last chair still intact, but my fingers slip through, and I fall flat onto my face. I scramble to my feet, breathing wildly. My hands shake as I elevate them in front of me.

”What just happened? How did I do that?”

She takes a cautious step toward me. ”You did it because you're a spirit right now. Just like me. You're stuck, a faded memory, never to be found.”

”No, I'm not.” I shake my head in denial. ”If that were true, that means I'm a Grim.”

”No, you're a hybrid.” She extends her hand toward me. ”Just like me.” Her fingers brush my arm, her touch warm. ”G.o.d, it's been ages since I touched anyone. Since I died here, actually.”

”Since you died here ...? Wait. You're one of the hybrids who killed the Forsaken?” I sidestep away from her, b.u.mping into the wall of the tent, and her hand falls from my arm.

”We didn't mean to kill them,” she replies sadly. ”We were provoked, just like you were.”

I rub the spot where she touched me. ”What do you mean?”

”I mean, if you would've tasted that quercu, it would've unleashed the Grim monster living inside you.” Her gentleness turns harsh.

I stare down at the leaves on the ground, remembering how desperately I wanted to taste them. ”And if I don't? Then what?”

”Then you stay in control.” Her shoulders sag. ”I wish I could have. Then maybe I wouldn't be buried in the ground. Then again, maybe I still would. People aren't fond of those who are different, and you and I are about as different as they come.”

”Are there ...? Are there a lot of us?”

She wavers. ”A few, but you're different from all of us.”

Shock scorches through me.

”How?”

She fiddles with a hole in the hem of her s.h.i.+rt. ”Because you're the first.”

”The first what? Hybrid?”

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. ”I don't know.”

I don't understand.

”How can you know I'm the first something, but you don't know what that something is?”

”Because I can feel it.” She presses her palm to her chest. ”In here.”

She's making no sense, but before I can ask her to explain herself better, Ryder yelps in pain, and my concentration darts to him. Wrath has woken up and now has Ryder turned onto his stomach and is stabbing him in the back with a small knife.

”No!” The strangled scream comes from my own lips. ”Somebody help him!”

Blaise jerks his head up, and he scans the tent, looking confused.

Did he just hear me?

”Help Ryder!” I shout, getting right into his face.

His brows shoot upward, and his head snaps in Ryder's direction. Cursing, he bounds to his feet, sprints toward Wrath, scoops up a broken piece of chair, and clocks Wrath in the side of the head with it.

Wrath drops to the ground hard, and Blaise kneels and carefully turns Ryder over onto his back.