Broken City: Forsaken Part 14

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.

"I'm good," Ryder croaks, trying to smile, but it looks wrong. Everything about Ryder does. His kind eyes are dull, and that vibrant spark he carries with him is fizzling.

More Forsaken rush into the tent, armed with knives and guns. Chaos haunts the air, along with the foul stench of blood.

"How do I help them?" My chest constricts as I whirl toward the woman. "The voice-your voice, I'm guessing-told me this could help me save them. That if I lay down, I could save them. How do I do it?" I think about what Reece told me about spirits and how Lex possessed my mind when I was in the caves. "Can I possess one of them?"

She shakes her head. "Only a pure Grim can do that."

"Then what can I do?"

"The only way to help them is to let a memory go and return to your body."

I squeeze my eyes as Ryder lets out an agonizing groan. G.o.d, I can't bear to hear any of them in pain.

"Okay, how do I do that?"

"You need to think about this," the woman says. "The memory that you have to let go is probably going to be an important one."

"I don't care. You told me if I lay down and shut my eyes, I could save them."

A scowl etches her face. "That wasn't me." She straightens her back and looks around at the torn walls of the tent, the broken fragments of wooden furniture all over the ground, and the knocked down curtains. "I don't think we're alone."

Ryder groans again, and her words barely register.

I inch toward her, deathly afraid but refusing to reveal my fear. "I don't care what's g-going on. Y-you know how to fix this. Now, please, just tell me how to do it." I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe.

"I can't ..." She swiftly shakes her head, backing away from me, terrified. "You can't forget stuff. It's too important."

"I won't ..." I crumble to the ground as two men seize Reece by the arms and drag him toward Zinnia, who has managed to escape the chain.

They viciously shove him down, and his jaw clips the edge of the cracked trunk. He staggers before collapsing to his knees. The taller of the two men reaches inside his leather jacket and retrieves a gun.

"No!" I shout as the man aims the barrel at the back of Reece's head.

"Not yet," Zinnia groans hoa.r.s.ely, rubbing her neck, her skin red and raw from where Reece choked her with the chain. "We need three of them for the sacrifice."

"Fine." The taller man turns the gun around in his hand and clocks Reece over the head with the handle.

Reece groans as his body slumps to the dirt, face first, and blood trickles from his temple.

The man turns and points the gun at Ryder lying on the ground. "This one, on the other hand, is already dead." His finger hovers over the trigger.

"No!" I rush forward, my heart thundering in my chest.

All I can think about is getting to them, stopping Ryder from getting shot, waking up Reece, helping Blaise fight the three men and two women trying to pin him to the ground.

Power surges through my veins, loading my body with raw, magnetic heat. For once, I feel strong, alert, hungry with the need to protect. I let the hunger consume me as I surrender to the silent whisper, begging me to let something go so I can reunite with my body. I feel myself tumbling. Slipping, slipping, slipping closer to present and farther from the past ...

Chapter Fifteen.

Destruction I bolt upright, gasping for air, trying to figure out how I got on the ground. The last thing I remember is Wrath and Blaise fighting and me head-b.u.t.ting Wrath.

I bring myself to a crouch and look around the tent. Any warmth is abruptly ripped from my body when my eyes rove toward the entrance of the tent.

Ryder. On the ground. Blood. So much blood. And a guy is about to shoot him.

I feel like I've missed out on moments leading to this point, but I act instinctively and sprint at an alarmingly fast pace. Strength pumps through my veins and fuels my body as I slam my palms against the guy pointing the gun at Ryder. A loud zap crackles through my body, and the man cries out in pain.

Just how Lex stole life from my veins, I feel myself doing the same thing. I want to drink this guy dry, feed the monster inside me.

"Don't do it," the voice whispers. "You can't ever let that hunger get control of you."

My body goes rigid. Who said that?

"Then what do I do?" I ask aloud.

"Fight."

Prying my hands off his back, I jump up and hitch my arms around the guy's neck. He chokes out, begging me to let him go, while Zinnia screams at everyone to stop me. I only squeeze more tightly, choking the air out of the man.

Blaise moves up and s.n.a.t.c.hes the gun from the guy's hands. Blood is splattered across his face like raindrops, and bruises and welts cover his face, but the bruises have already yellowed, quickly healing.

What is he?

Blaise catches my gaze, and not a speck of remorse haunts his eyes as he aims the gun at the guy.

"Allura, get off him," he demands, his finger sliding over the trigger.

Confused, I lower my feet to the ground and back away.

The guy heaves for air, hunching over. "You shouldn't have done that. Now I'm going to kill her and make you watch-"

A shot rings out, and I cower to the ground, covering my ears. The air buzzes, hot and metallic. Another fire. Then another. I flinch every single time, not daring to look up. I hunker down, close to the ground and crawl my way over to Ryder.

His eyes are closed, his hand pressed to his chest, and every time he takes a breath, he coughs up blood.

"Ryder," I whisper, wanting to help him but unsure what to do.

His eyelids flutter open, and his eyes are glazed over. "Hey."

I brush his hair out of his face. "What can I do to help?"

He slips his fingers through mine, his thumb skimming my palm. "There. Much better." His forehead creases, and he turns my hand over to examine my palm. "The cuts ... They're gone." He looks at me. "How?"