Immortal Consequences(118)
Despite what she knew about Mateo, she believed him. It was something about the way he looked at her. With such openness and honesty, despite the danger lurking beneath the surface. There was no wall between them. He didn’t bother to hide the darkness inside him because he knew that Irene shared that same darkness.
“I want to join you.” The words poured out of her before she could stop them. “I want to join the Demien Order. But I was forced to sign a soul vow. I’m tethered to the Decennial until the very end.”
Mateo edged closer.
“Actually…that is exactly what I was hoping for.”
She snapped her gaze back to him.
“What do you mean?”
“Just because I want you to join the Demien Order doesn’t mean I don’t want you to become part of the Ascended.”
Irene shook her head.
“I don’t understand.”
“You could be our eyes and ears.” The shadows running through his veins darkened as he spoke, an intoxicating power humming in the air. “Our connection to Blackwood.”
“You mean…go undercover?”
“Just until we can get our plan in motion,” he explained. “Think about it. You could play them like puppets and watch them fall right into your trap.”
“But what exactly is the Demien Order’s plan?”
“I…can’t tell you,” he whispered, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Not yet. Once the Decennial is over, once you’re crowned the victor, then I’ll be allowed to divulge everything to you.”
“And if I don’t win?” Irene asked, voice wavering.
Mateo drew in a slow breath. In that moment, blanketed by the darkness of her room, Irene swore she saw a flicker of shadows swirling over his irises.
“That can’t be an option.”
Irene nodded. “I can do it.”
“I know you can. And once you do, once you’re crowned the victor, you have to be ready to eventually give it up.”
He didn’t need to clarify. She knew exactly what he meant.
Her humanity.
Irene had often wished she could leave her humanity behind. Carve it out of her like some tumor. But now that the reality had been presented to her, the decision didn’t seem quite so simple.
Mateo must have sensed her unease; when he spoke next, his voice was gentle.
“It’s okay to be scared. I was too. And don’t worry. You’ll have some time before you have to give it up. A few weeks, at the very least.” He stepped closer. “But I need to know. When the time comes…will you be ready?”
Her eyes drifted back to the shadows running through Mateo’s veins. The word he’d used to describe the feeling of them rang out in her brain like a church hymn.
Power.
“I want to destroy him,” Irene whispered, the rage consuming her. “I want to watch Silas cower in fear. Everything he’s done, all the suffering he’s caused, I want him to feel it tenfold. I want him to break under my retribution.”
Mateo’s face hardened. The usual simmering warmth transformed into icy fury.
“We’ll make sure of it.” His words were binding. An unspoken promise. “Together.”
56
Wren
Wren was falling.
Falling.
Falling…
Her mother was screaming. Calling her name. Begging her to stay. To stay with her.
The third trial had forced her to relive the moment of the accident, a sickening scene that she wanted so desperately to forget. After she’d dismantled the illusion, she thought she’d been free of it, that she’d spared herself.
But she still couldn’t escape her dreams.
She couldn’t do anything to save herself from being dragged back to that night, over and over and over. She could only lie there…soaking in a pool of her own blood…watching the starless sky above her…the headlights illuminating her sister’s face…the smell of melted rubber against asphalt…the blood-soaked hand lying next to her…chipped lilac nail polish…it was her sister’s favorite…
Open your eyes.
Wren woke up screaming. Her room was pitch-black, a sliver of light pooling in from the open window. She hadn’t even meant to fall asleep, but the bone-aching exhaustion of the third trial had seemingly been too much. Sweat dampened her hair and the back of her neck. She clutched her chest, desperate to feel a heartbeat. A flutter. Anything that could show her that somehow, despite everything, she was still alive.
She didn’t notice the person standing at her doorway until she sat up.
August.
Neither of them moved. They simply stared at one another.
He cleared his throat.
“I…I heard you scream,” he whispered, voice shaking. As Wren’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed he was out of breath, his chest heaving up and down as he attempted to steady his breathing. He was panicked. Cheeks flushed and eyes wide and frantic.
She stared at him in disbelief. “And you came to check on me?”
“Of course.” He swallowed, bracing himself against the doorframe. He looked around tentatively, almost shy. “Can…can I come in?”
Wren sat up in bed, gesturing him forward. But as soon as he took his first step into the room, she noticed that something was wrong. He seemed to be limping slightly, his right hand clutching his shoulder.