When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series Page 5

  I refuse to look back at him as I walk past and start climbing down the wet rocks. My fingers slip against the crevices in my hurried escape, but my mind doesn’t acknowledge the fear of falling. My hands move without hesitation toward the ground below.

  It’s slightly colder now that the sun has set, but humidity clings to the air. The sky is a beautiful orange and blue color. The water below the falls pools into a deep lake. I shed my clothes at the shore and wade into the warm water. My muscles ache, but the water relaxes and soothes my joints.

  The clear water starts to darken the farther out I dog paddle yet I keep going. I’ve swum here hundreds of times since I was little. My slow and my uneven motions are tiring, yet I enjoy the water against my limbs. All the times I spent here with Ayden wander into my mind. I pause, wondering if he’s noticed my absence yet. We’ve been gone about twelve hours now. Ayden must have finished his chores hours ago.

  I wish I could have told him not to worry about me. Or maybe I should have told him to worry for me. With the lack of answers from my mother, I guess I have no idea what danger I may or may not be in.

  I run my fingers through my tangled curls and then float on my back, looking up at the darkening sky. The orange has faded, and hues of purple start to stain the clear sky. My mother will wake soon. I probably have less than an hour before I’m back on the run again. My legs ache in protest at the thought.

  I’m dreading my immediate future when I hear movement at the water’s edge. I still in the water, my breathing coming in minimal doses as I check my surroundings, my feet kicking wildly to keep me afloat.

  Forty-four walks into the water, staring right at me. The hue of the fading sun surrounds us, casting fiery light onto the water’s surface. I can see him move closer to me. He wears only his underclothes into the water. I purposely avoid looking at his chest because I can’t be caught. Again.

  He swims around me, keeping space between us. He glides through the water as gracefully as he walks on land. His waves ripple through the water toward me and are the only sound between us. After a few minutes in silence, I try to think of something to say, but once again, we have our conversation barrier because I don’t know sign language and I’m apparently not great at reading lips either.

  I try to think of yes or no questions. “You know how to swim?” I ask in confusion, watching him swim perfect laps around me. A stupid but easy question.

  He circles me once more before stopping a few feet in front of me and nodding. Water clings to his dark lashes, amplifying his gray eyes.

  “So you weren’t born into the compound?” I ask, wondering more and more about his past.

  He shakes his head no. I was probably more born into the compound than he was. I grew up watching my mother work there for as long as I can remember.

  I think about my next question, not sure if I should ask it or not. “Have you ever bitten anyone?” He looks away from me and into the dark water. The sun has set, and it’s nearly dark now. After a moment, he nods slowly. He’s not ashamed and he’s not proud either.

  I’m not surprised by his answer. It only makes me hungry for more answers. I have to tread carefully if I want them answered. I’m not used to asking so many questions. However, I know from experience that if you expect to get an answer at all, your phrasing has to be well thought out with caution. I try to think of something less serious to ask, to take away the apprehensive look he has right now. “Have you ever tossed a girl over your shoulder before?” I ask trying to force a glare through my smile.

  He laughs quietly, sure to not set off his chip before he shakes his head no.

  “My ass still hurts, just so you know,” I say, splashing water his way. My waves fall short and barely touch him. He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise before splashing me back. I swim away the best I can, but his retaliating wave of water hits me right in the face. I laugh and kick my feet hard at the water’s surface trying to get him back with rapid-fire waves as I make my way slowly to the shore.

  Just as I’m a few feet from my clothes, I turn to look at him. He’s much closer now. The smile falls from my face, and I lose my breath when I realize how close he is. He’s not touching me, but he’s only inches from me. The dark water separates our bodies. My heart’s pounding again, and I get the urge to pull him to me and never let go. He can hear or maybe see my pulse because he looks from my lips to my neck, and I wonder if he would bite me. Strangely, the idea doesn’t spike fear into my body but a shiver to run through it. I wonder what it would feel like; his sharp canines against my neck.

  I clear my throat and look away, trying to find a sense of normalcy. “Can you turn around while I get dressed?” I ask in a whisper.

  He doesn’t reply. He only turns away from me. I walk out of the water, dry myself with my blanket, and pull on my underclothes.

  Just as I finish pulling my black jeans on and I’m half way into my shirt, my damp skin not allowing my arms easy entrance into the sleeves, cold water drenches my back. My shoulders tense as I suck in a clipped breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s smiling as he floats in the lake like nothing happened. He’s like a crocodile inconspicuously lurking within the water.

  “That was low!” I say, but he only licks his lips and splashes me again. I heave in a breath as the cold water hits my half bare stomach.

  I’m defenseless unless I want to get back into the water, but I’m already dressed. Instead, I try to hurt his ego. “Remember when I said it was embarrassing for a big bad hybrid-vampire to use a little knife to threaten us?” His eyes light up in interest at my mocking tone. “This is kind of like that. Throw in the last splash when my back’s turned and I can’t get you back. How very threatening of you,” I say sarcastically, pulling my shirt down and resting my hands on my hips, trying to hide my nervousness from being exposed to him.

  He opens his mouth in a half smile before standing in the water. The water comes to his knees and it takes him less than a second to run onto dry land. Before I even have time to react, he’s hugging his drenched body against my dry clothes, soaking my jeans and shirt. He shakes his hair out onto me to prove a point. Water droplets rain onto my forehead and cheeks.

  I twist, pushing against his wet chest, but my hands just slide against him. Slick, rigid muscle flexes beneath my fingertips. I’m laughing and trying to catch my breath that I’ve somehow lost just by making contact with him.

  “Forty-four, stop, I can’t even run well in dry clothes, there’s no way I can run soaking wet.” I try to reason with him, but I’m still laughing. He only holds me closer, pressing his wet forehead against my neck.

  A tingle runs through my core and settles, making its home there. I keep focused on pulling and pushing away from him when my mind wants nothing more than to stay in his strong arms a little longer.

  “What the hell are you doing?” A familiar and angry voice asks, causing my laughter to die on my lips and Forty-four’s arms to slowly fall away from me.

  I look up to see Ayden staring at us, his dark eyes wide with anger. His jaw is clenched like he’ll never speak again. He does speak. Furiously. “Do you think you have a right to touch her?” Ayden cocks his head at Forty-four, who brushes against my arm, moving closer to where Ayden stands. I step in front of Forty-four in a casual way to halt his steps.

  I lick my lips, trying to pull an explanation from the clutter of my mind. I have no idea where to begin, or even what I can explain with the limited information anyone has given me.

  I realize then that Forty-four is nearly naked and was wrapped around me, which only makes the situation worse.

  Great.

  I take a large breath and walk over to Ayden at the side of the cliff. I steal a glance at Forty-four once I’m several feet away.

  It’s dark. However, even in the moonlight, I can tell Forty-four is something unhuman. Something dangerous. His skin is too smooth, his muscles too defined. He’s pulling on a pair of black jeans and the more I think about what we m
ust have looked like the more uncomfortable I feel standing before Ayden.

  Ayden’s once warm eyes are now blazing with anger as they look down at me. A look I’ve never seen him give anyone.

  “What are you doing here, Ayden?” I ask, hugging my arms around myself.

  I know it’s a lame response to everything, but it’s the only question that keeps racing through my mind. If Ayden can find us so quickly, can Shaw?

  “What …“ He pauses, taking a big breath and slowly releasing it. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? What the hell is he doing here? What are the two of you doing here?”

  I bite my lip and look at the ground, trying to find an answer somewhere on the forest floor.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I look at him. Wild eyes meet mine, but when I hold his gaze his breathing calms. He takes one more calming breath and swallows hard.

  “Are you,” he looks at Forty-four, then back to me, “are you with him?” Disgust laces every word.

  “No,” I answer quickly.

  I, too, look over at Forty-four, knowing he can hear us. He’s leaning against a rock, turned away from us, fully dressed in a white shirt that no longer has his number on it.

  “What are you doing then?” Ayden asks quietly.

  I turn back to him and look into his big brown eyes. He’s my best friend. In just weeks, I’ll never see him again. I can’t force my mother’s secrets on him. Secrets I barely know.

  “My mother asked me to help her with something important. I would have told you, but she didn’t exactly ask me until this afternoon. I’m sorry, Ayden. Just don’t worry, okay?” It’s as much as I can say. It’s actually all I know and the fact that it’s so little makes my stomach sink.

  He shifts and stands closer to me. “Will you be back before I leave?”

  He’s so quiet and unsure of everything. Suddenly my friend who always has the answers is as lost as I am. It’s like I can see his thoughts.

  “I don’t know.” I take his hand in mine, trying to give him comfort when I know there isn’t any. “I’ll be okay. In a couple weeks, you’ll be the most important person I’ve ever met in the council and you won’t have to big brother me anymore,” I say with a forced laugh, trying to make him smile.

  He looks into my eyes with complete seriousness. “I’ve never been less of a brother to anyone than I am to you, Fallon.” He closes the space between us and presses his lips softly to mine. His hands hold my hips tightly and pull me closer. The steadiness of his heartbeat is felt beneath my fingers.

  My thoughts are swirling like water down a drain as I think of how to fix us. How to make the last time I’ll ever see Ayden be perfect, but out of reflex I start to push him away. My fingers press lightly against his chest.

  A loud thud sounds behind us, and we both pull apart when my mother’s backpack lands at our feet. I look up where it came from and see my mother lowering herself over the edge to climb down.

  “You have to go, Ayden. I’m sorry,” I say pulling him around the corner of the cave to try to hide him from her.

  Ayden shifts his weight from one foot to the other, almost reluctant to leave. He holds my hand tightly in his.

  “You have to go. I’ll be back to camp as soon as I can,” I say looking up at him. The awkward gangly boy I grew up with is no longer within the man who stands before me now.

  He’s confused. I’m confused. About us, about myself, about our lives.

  “If you don’t come back before I leave, I’ll still see you again. Somehow. Even if I have to sneak into your window at night when we’re fifty.”

  I laugh at him, leaning my head against his chest as heavy pain fills my lungs because I know a lie when I hear one.

  “You’ll always have me,” he whispers. He slowly pulls away, kissing my hair before grudgingly turning back the way he came.

  Chapter Four

  Where Our Journey Ends

  Forty-four leads our way as we jog through the thick woods for an hour, taking short breaks for me to catch my breath.

  A vehicle drives past on a road we crossed just moments ago. The vehicle flies by us, but then stops and reverses back to where we are, the dark forest shadowing us from any onlookers.

  At the first sound of the unseen vehicle, Forty-four and my mother start running again. The fear I see in Forty-four’s steely eyes is enough to tell me how to react. I run the fastest I’ve ever run in my life. My once aching legs and lungs are now on fire, a fire I refuse to acknowledge until we’re safe again. They’ll kill him if they find us.

  They’ll kill us if they find us …

  Though I never hear anyone following behind us on foot, I don’t stop until Forty-four does. Terror controls my pace more than my mind now. The woods come to a clearing that opens to a small village.

  Is this our destination?

  I’ve never been outside of our camp and it surprises me how similar the village before me is to our own. The dirt roads are vacant and a few government-owned businesses providing food and clothing and basic household goods are in the center along with a small clinic. The village center is surrounded by houses on all sides.

  Back at home, our camp is on one side of the housing development and the school on the other. The compound takes up the majority of our village, though. This village lacks a compound and somehow emits a cleaner feeling just from the absence of the building.

  We haven’t exited our hiding spot within the trees, but I can tell my mother is anxious to make our next move. To get as much distance between us and whoever was in that vehicle miles back.

  After a few minutes, it becomes apparent to me that we’re waiting for Forty-four to lead us. As always. My mother tilts toward him, silently waiting. Even Ky waits for direction.

  It’s strange depending on someone who has been locked away for God only knows how long. Does Forty-four know where we are? What we’re doing here?

  I watch him as he looks to the village. A dim street light reflects in his eyes, sparkling like he holds the galaxy in his gaze.

  After assessing the village, he glances around the wooded area where we stand. His breathing is quiet. He tilts his head slightly to one side as he narrows his eyes on something I can’t see in the distance of the forest. Then he’s gone. I can hear his steps as leaves and branches break under his footing, but I only catch blurs of movement. I strain my eyes to find him but it’s useless in the dark. Even in the daylight, I wouldn’t have been able to follow his quick actions. And, in that moment, I remember how unhuman he is.

  He could murder us all, and we wouldn’t even see it coming.

  A few seconds pass, and he returns with something in his hand. It makes a small noise and struggles against his strength. Ripper is instantly on high alert at my feet, growling and sniffing the wind. Once Forty-four is close enough, I realize he’s holding a small brown, frantic squirrel.

  The little animal protests against his captor and my breath catches out of fear for the squirrel. Is Forty-four going to eat him, drain his blood? If he is, I don’t want to see it. I make to turn away, but then Forty-four lifts his bag off his shoulders and unzips it enough to push the squirming animal inside. The bag shakes violently—well, as violently as a tiny, angry animal can.

  I look to Forty-four, then to my mother to question why we are keeping squirrels hostage now, but they both just walk forward into the village. I stand alone in the dark with only Ripper for company among the trees as I watch them trudge on. I’m just a spectator unaware of what will happen next in my own life. I consider turning back, unsure of where I would go. At least I would be included in the decision.

  Forty-four signs something to my mother and she stops. Her brows pull together when she sees me still rooted to my spot. All three of them look back at me. My uncertainty is holding up the trip, practically begging for whoever was in that truck to catch up to me.

  We’re here to help Forty-four … That’s all I know and it’s enough. Because I do want t
o help him. They would have put him down at the compound. Shaw would have loved to see him put down. And I won’t allow that to happen.

  I take a long, shaky breath and follow after them.

  We stay in the darkness as much as possible, walking behind the houses and avoiding the main road. After a few blocks, we sneak into the backyard of a small house. The yellow paint on the house is peeling, a few windows are broken, and the small porch is sunken with rot. It looks to have been abandoned for decades, but the remains of a life are still evident all over the property. Starting with the little flower pots that now lay empty and broken next to the unhinged door and ending with a rusting sign that is falling off the porch that reads “Home is wherever I’m with you.”

  A sad and uneasy feeling sinks to the bottom of my stomach. I notice all these things. I also notice the way Forty-four looks at the house. Hesitant and respectful. Like he, too, is a trespasser on remnants of lives long gone.

  We all carefully follow Forty-four up the broken and weak porch to the back door. His stride is assured against the rotting boards. I pick Ripper up, afraid he might fall through, but I’m probably more likely to take us both down on the crippled porch.

  Forty-four turns the faded brass handle, yet the door handle doesn’t move. It must be locked.

  My mother signs something to Forty-four, making him halt his effort and glance around at the houses on each side of us. One is also vacant while the other appears to be lived in. There are no lights on in the neighboring house, but there is a child’s bike outside and all the windows are intact with pretty blue curtains. Forty-four watches that house with intensity like he can will it to remain oblivious to us. Maybe he can.

  He lifts his hand and grabs the one good hinge that’s holding the door in place. His muscles flex along his arm, power coming to life beneath his smooth skin. The sound of wood cracking fills the air. Before I even realize it, he has the rusted metal hinge in one hand and is pushing the door open as quietly as possible.