The Returning Page 12

  Willis was waiting for them as they approached, and Elise couldn’t ignore the way her heart bounced at the sight of him. How quickly this boy had maneuvered his way into her head. It seemed insane that twelve hours earlier she’d thought he was just a figment of her dreams. He was much more than that.

  Willis nodded to Aaron as they shared a silent line of communication, and then Aaron turned to Elise and once again placed his hand on her shoulder. They held each other’s gaze and Elise suddenly got the impression that she was headed forward without him.

  “You’re leaving?” Elise asked.

  Aaron smiled. “I never go far.”

  Elise felt a twinge of panic pull at her chest. “But I can’t do this alone.”

  “You have never been alone; the light has always been yours. Remember it.”

  Aaron gave her shoulder a final squeeze, shared a warm smile with Willis, and left. Elise watched him walk down the road and around the corner. The whole time her mind wanted to scream after him to return, but the truth of what she had experienced stopped her. The light was still with her; what should she fear?

  “He does that,” Willis said, yanking Elise back to the present. “Don’t worry; you’ll get used to it.”

  Elise took a deep breath. “I can’t imagine getting used to any of this.”

  “You ready?”

  Reality dropped into her head like a stone. There were others like her inside the building before her, others from a home she had never known, a sister she couldn’t even imagine. Was she ready? She gave Willis a weak smile, nodded, and followed him inside.

  It was smaller than she would have imagined a factory to be. The walls were made of all red brick, the floors of cool cement, the windowpanes clouded with time and dust. The building clearly wasn’t in commission anymore, but at one point it had been used to produce flour. Old tan sacks were strewn here and there in the large main room. Dust lifted into the light of the moon that streamed in through the windows as they crossed the floor.

  Willis led her down a hallway to the left of the factory lobby and toward the door at the end. As they approached, muted voices drifted through the air. Elise felt her stomach tighten. Nerves crashed like waves through her chest, and she tried to ignore the urge to turn and run. The people who sat behind that door knew her. Or at least knew where she came from. They represented the life she’d dreamed of and was now suddenly terrified to discover.

  More incredible, her sister was behind that door. A girl with blood the same as hers but a history that was completely separate. What if the natural bond that was supposed to hold family together only came with time and interaction? Did the title sister really mean anything at all? What if they disliked one another?

  By the time she and Willis reached the door, her heart was thundering inside her throat. She thought for a moment that she might be sick as he reached down, turned the knob, and pushed open the door.

  “Willis, where have you been?” a female voice said.

  A second voice, this one male, started, “Yeah, man, you can’t just take off—”

  The room fell quiet as Elise stepped through the frame and into the space.

  It was a pretty large room; the only pieces of furniture were a couple of long wooden tables with benches connected on both sides. They were pushed against the left wall, leaving the center of the room clear. Sleeping mats were laid out neatly around the floor, and a fire burned within a tall metal bin in the center, giving the room an orange glow. Half a dozen mysterious faces stared at her as she entered and stood beside Willis. It was hard to read their expressions in the dark light, but their energy was clear. They were all on edge.

  “Guys, this is Elise. Elise, these are the Seers,” Willis said.

  No one spoke. Several of them glanced at one another in shock, but one girl, standing in the center of the room behind the fiery bin, stared at Elise with such intensity that it made her skin buzz in response. She dared to lock eyes with the girl and knew this girl must be Kennedy. Her sister.

  Her little sister.

  The girl’s face was round, framed with soft black curls much like her own. She was smaller than Elise, but her eyes, blue like a deep ocean, held such fire, such fearlessness, that Elise suddenly felt as if this girl could teach her way more about the world than she could teach in return. The fear and worry Elise had carried with her into the room shifted. It was no longer for herself. In one moment, it transferred to the stranger before her, and without even meaning to, Elise suddenly wanted nothing but good for her. Maybe the bond of family existed regardless of interaction and was something that connected them at a deeper level.

  The entire room stood frozen, no one sure what to say or do. Elise wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she felt like she’d stepped into a place she wasn’t wanted and wasn’t prepared for. She wasn’t prepared for any of this.

  Kennedy was the first to move. She slowly stepped around the bin. “How?”

  “I’ve learned to follow my intuition, just like you,” Willis said.

  “And you’re sure?” Kennedy asked.

  As Kennedy moved closer, Elise saw the emotion collecting on her face. Her eyes were watery, her lips quivering. The urge to rush toward her trembled through Elise’s feet.

  Willis nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Kennedy stepped close enough that only a foot separated the sisters. The rest of the room remained still as the younger girl’s eyes washed over Elise’s face. She bit the inside corner of her mouth and gave a small nod. “You look like him,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Who?” Elise asked.

  “Dad.”

  The word crashed against Elise’s heart like a battering ram. Kennedy wasn’t just her sister, which was overwhelming enough; she also represented the truth that Elise came from someone. She had a family, a place she belonged.

  Tears gathered in her eyes and she fought to keep them from pouring down her face. “Will you tell me about him?”

  Kennedy smiled and reached for Elise’s hand, which she cradled softly in her own. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  Roth’s mind was still. He was surrounded by empty, dark space, his eyes open but seeing nothing. He was alive, he thought; he sensed air flowing in and out of his lungs, blood pulsing through his veins, neurons firing in his brain, but he was no longer sure what being alive meant.

  His existence was foggy, his memories unclear. And then he was standing in a space that seemed to stretch eternally. The floor beneath his feet was solid but he sensed no other distinguishing factors; the sky above was black, the air to both sides of him the same. He was standing in utter darkness.

  He wondered if he should be afraid. But then he felt a familiar power whoosh around him, the materialized form of the darkness itself. It was hot on his skin, violent as it raked across his figure and pushed him to his knees. Roth knew the darkness well, and he welcomed it to fill him as his brain started to piece together what had happened.

  His mind had been taken. Erased by that stupid child he’d foolishly let live. She’d cursed him to an eternity of numbness, and now he was powerless to destroy her.

  No, the darkness whispered, you still have my power.

  “I’m hardly even alive without my mind!” he screamed into the void.

  I can give you back your mind.

  Roth tried to breathe through the harsh movements of the darkness around him. It pushed into his flesh and past the protective coating around his mind. It slithered into every inch of his body, painfully injecting itself into his deepest crevices. “How?”

  How is not important. What matters is your obedience.

  “My obedience?”

  Yes. I will give you back your mind, but you must give me what I need.

  “What do you need?”

  Your blood.

  “My blood?”

  It is the key. I am the key. It is time for me to spread among the people and save this city from destruction.

  Roth coul
d feel the comforting pulse of darkness under his skin, in his veins, filling them fully and circulating to all his organs. This was a power he knew he’d tapped into before, but never with such magnitude. The pain intensified as his skin seemed to expand, somehow growing without breaking. Roth cried out, feeling his frail bones rattling and his muscles tearing. The darkness was changing him, altering him from the inside, making him the perfect weapon. Its perfect tool.

  It is key. The blood is key.

  Abruptly the voice vanished and the darkness faded as Roth’s eyes fluttered open. His eyes were dry and he blinked a couple of times to moisten them. He swallowed and it burned. His head was filled with the sound of his unsteady heart and ragged breath.

  He was in a room—his room, he thought. As more came into focus, he saw the fan spinning overhead, adding a soft hum to the room. He saw the tubes running from his body to a tall machine on his left. The machine added a tiny beep to the space.

  He was in bed, his body ached, and his memory was fuzzy, but one thing was clear. The blood is the key. His blood.

  The darkness turned inside him, spurring him to move. He sat up slowly, taking deep breaths and readying himself for what must happen next. He yanked the tubes from his arms and chest, the machine beeping loudly in protest, then falling quiet completely.

  Roth swung his legs out from under the covers and was hit by a wave of cool air that dried the sweat covering his body. His feet met the ground and the pressure sent painful vibrations up his legs and into his back. He noticed a pitcher of water across the room, sitting atop his dresser, and he suddenly desperately needed it. He moved toward the dresser like a stumbling baby just learning to walk and didn’t bother with a glass as he brought the pitcher to his lips. Water spilled down his chin and shirt, but he paid it little mind. The water crashing down his throat made him feel alive.

  His memory started to clear. Elise. The Seer boy. The dark vision. The voice speaking with such clarity. It is time for me to spread. The blood is key.

  Roth’s mind and body seemed to have been taken over by the beast inhabiting his chest, and he moved with purpose now. Toward the cabinet that stood by his bed. To the top drawer. Yanking it open, he found nothing he needed and moved to the second. Tearing through the contents, medical supplies falling to the ground, Roth scanned the drawer for the tool he needed.

  Finally his fingers found the large, thick syringes at the back, and he yanked all of them out. Hastily, without following proper protocol, Roth popped the plastic cover off the first syringe’s needle and inserted it into a thick vein in his arm.

  He drained himself. The dark-red substance filled the vial. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice urged him to stop, argued that this was madness, but the beast was driving now, and as the first vial filled, Roth prepared the second. And then a third, until half a dozen thick, dark vials of blood rested in his shaky palm.

  His head swam, but he knew he wasn’t finished. The darkness wanted something more, and he was powerless to object. His feet moved as if thinking on their own, his legs trembling, the tiny voice certain he would collapse at any moment, but his master drove him forward.

  Out of his room and into the hallway, bright with the afternoon sun. The light stung his eyes, the heat made him sweat, but he ignored it all to push forward. He knew where he was headed, could picture what was coming next. What needed to happen in order to eradicate the light from this city.

  That’s what this had become. A battle between the light and the darkness. Roth caught his weary reflection in a mirror that hung in the hallway and paused. Paler than ever, moisture glistening on his face, lips nearly blue, but it was the darkness that had devoured his eyes that made him stop. He was fully captured now, and all he saw was power. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a cruel grin and he moved forward with more determination than before.

  He saw his destination ahead. Two guards stood outside the Council Room doors and gave Roth shocked looks as he approached.

  “Dr. Reynard,” one of them started to say.

  “Open the doors,” Roth ordered, but it wasn’t his voice. Not completely. It was being overshadowed by something else. A hiss he was familiar with. The darkness was talking for him now.

  “Sir, I don’t think—”

  Roth didn’t stop moving and pushed past the guards and through the closed doors. The room was occupied, as he’d known it would be, and all heads turned toward him as he entered.

  Jesse and the other three Council members sat around the large oak table, their faces frozen in horror at seeing the dead walking around freely.

  Jesse stood, his face draining. “Roth?”

  Roth was no longer just Roth. He could sense the darkness spreading through the deepest parts of him. He was being worn like a suit now, but he didn’t mind. He was the host and he was being used by complete and utter power. He felt as if this had always been his destiny. The weariness and shaking that had plagued his body was gone, and all that remained was power.

  “You’re awake,” a Council member said.

  “How is this possible?” another asked.

  “Roth,” Jesse said, “what is going on?”

  “Enough,” Roth spat. The others tensed, noting the change in his voice.

  “Roth,” Jesse said again, stepping away from his seat.

  The darkness ignored him and focused its attention on the other three Council members. “To those of you who have mistrusted me, who have rejected me . . .”

  “Dr. Reynard—” one of the Council members interjected.

  “Silence!” the darkness commanded, using Roth as a mouthpiece. “I have been calling to you, opening doors toward the future, and all of you have refused me. All except one.” Roth looked at Jesse, a dark haze crossing his vision. More darkness was taking over. Roth tilted his head and smiled. “I see who you really are.”

  The other Council members glanced at Jesse, and Jesse opened his mouth and shook his head.

  The darkness snapped Roth’s head back straight and nearly hissed as it spoke. “You others could have had power beyond your wildest dreams. Instead you will have nothing.”

  “You can’t come in here and threaten us!” a member said.

  Roth’s mouth split open in a wide cackle that echoed off the ceiling. “You have no idea how threatened you are.”

  “That is enough!” the councilman yelled. “Guards!”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Jesse said and turned toward the guards. “Stay where you are.”

  Roth glanced over his shoulder calmly to see the two guards who had been outside now standing like stunned puppies just inside the room. They looked as if they didn’t know which way to turn. Pathetic little pawns all but dead to the world. He had done that—numbed them, started their evolution—but they were meant for so much more. The next stage of transition was upon them all. The blood is the key.

  Roth glanced at his hands and saw that he was still holding several large vials of blood. Yes, the blood. He stepped toward Jesse, and the entire room backed away. A grin played on Roth’s face. They were scared of him. They should be.

  “I’m done with this, President Cropper,” the councilman said again. “Guards, take this man back to his room.”

  “Stand down!” Jesse snapped at the man.

  “Enough is enough!” he said.

  The guards moved hesitantly forward, but the dark creature was already several steps ahead. Turning toward the approaching guards, Roth’s body moved as if he had been trained for battle, fluid and with speed he’d never before possessed. A few long strides across the Council Room, and he was at the guards’ sides, their reactions far too slow for Roth’s superhuman speed.

  Before either guard could stop him, Roth had grabbed the weapon tucked at the side of the shorter of the two guards. He raised the weapon and sent a shot flying through the air and into the middle of the talking councilman’s head.

  The room fell into slow motion then, except for Roth. He was still
functioning in a higher state of being. Cries of anguish filled the air as fear crawled along the faces of the other men.

  The guards tried to apprehend Roth, but the darkness was too skilled and strong to be taken. He ducked as arms reached for him, then came up and landed a hard blow to the first guard’s skull, hard enough to send him to the floor cold. The second guard hesitated as his partner fell, and Roth easily used the butt of the weapon he had just secured to send him to the floor like a sack of bricks.

  Without a second thought, and before the rest of the room could respond, Roth raised his weapon. He sent two more shots across the room, one for each Council member who had rejected the lure of the darkness. The bullets landed with incredible accuracy, one through a heart, the other through a brain, both instantly fatal.

  The room fell into a deathly silence. Roth lowered the gun and stared at Jesse. The president’s face was white, his eyes wide, his lips trembling. Roth crossed the room and ignored the way Jesse flinched as he approached. Jesse knew the darkness more intimately than he was willing to admit. He must have felt this coming; he, too, was chosen for something more.

  Roth held out the vials. “Change is once again upon us. You have felt it, you have tasted it, but you have not yet completely given yourself to it. It is time!”

  Jesse looked at the vials and shook his head. He took a deep, audible swallow, composed his face, and met Roth’s black eyes. They stared at one another for a long moment.

  “What happened to you?” Jesse asked.

  Roth grabbed Jesse’s hand and placed the vials in his grasp. “I ascended, and you can too. Do what you were made for. This will save this city from the light.”

  Roth’s head began to ache again. His legs wobbled, and his stomach turned. He felt as though the power that had been housed inside his gut was being drained from him like water. He stumbled backward, and Jesse caught him before he could fall.

  “Roth,” Jesse said.