NOON
Each noon brought the promise of fresh blood and pride and power. The island’s appetite had grown insatiable. Once it had sampled the incredible might of life and death on a grand scale, and it thirsted to do so again. It ached for more; it needed it.
And it would have it, soon.
Today’s prize would be tomorrow’s power.
Coated in blood that was not her own, this female radiated vitality and fury in equal amounts, the electria coursing through her body so ferociously that the gate required minimal strength to open; the island simply used hers.
Took it, used it, reveled in it.
Delicious.
She didn’t cower when the gate took her; instead she reflexively lifted her knife with one blood-splattered hand, thrusting the wet blade toward the iridescent wall as it rushed to devour her. Her slashing movement had been instinctive, her natural response being to save herself, even if it meant harming others.
The warm blood coating her weapon testified to that.
The island had wisely left the other human behind, closing the gate with force, preserving its power, and hers. Once it had allowed two humans through simultaneously, but the split in focus between the two had been disastrous. The island could not transfer both, and had lost immense amounts of energy attempting to do so, but the true cost of that unfortunate transfer had been the loss of both prizes. Both humans had been lost between, and with them, their electria: power the island craved. Power the island needed. That day, the island had learned the necessity of restraint, and the power of balance: one gate, one human. One transfer at a time.
The island would not make the same mistake twice.
It had learned that from the humans too. Mistakes were not to be repeated. They were to be prevented. And remedied.
And this female would be key to correcting the island’s last mistake.
This one was lethal. Angry.
Absolutely perfect.
Even when she lost feeling in her physical form as she traveled between worlds, this one fought the transfer with all she had left, revealing a depth of resilience and resistance greater than anticipated, a welcome surprise.
Better still, in the crucial seconds during transfer—in those precious moments when her unconscious mind lay raw and exposed—the island discovered that she would fight until her time’s end, honing the innate strength she already possessed. And the island would let her. The island would provide ample opportunities for growth, and would force her to become as powerful as she could possibly be—but it mattered little, because in those same precious moments, the island had already chosen her fate.
The fight would be delightful.
Time to wake.
* * *
Carmen woke, instantly on guard.
She hopped to a crouch, feeling naked without her knife. Then again, she was naked, which made the loss of her only means of protection that much worse. Around her, tunnels of water snaked through the rock; the ocean crashed close enough to hear even though she couldn’t see it.
What in the world? she thought.
Still crouched, she turned slowly, feeling the cool sea breeze brush her skin, the constant stickiness of Colombia conspicuously absent. She completed a full rotation, absorbing her quiet surroundings, the lack of people, of anything remotely familiar. In the distance she was fairly certain a zebra stood at attention, watching something. Maybe her.
She’d never seen a zebra before, except in books. She’d never been to a zoo. She’d never needed to go; her father had simply brought the animals to her. A petting zoo, he’d called it.
She had no interest in petting a zebra.
And if it threatened her, she’d kill it.
Where am I? she wondered, taking stock of her surroundings carefully. A spike of fear reared its head; she crushed it instantly, without hesitation. She had no time for fear, or the vulnerability it brought.
Standing slowly, Carmen backtracked, replaying the last memories she had.
Ice.
Heat.
Pain.
Not all the pain was hers. At that, she smiled.
The last thing she clearly remembered was surprising Carlos, an older boy who thought himself more attractive than he was in every sense of the word. He’d thought he’d surprise her. He’d thought he’d corner her in private, and teach her a lesson. He hadn’t liked her repeated refusals, and he’d liked her mockery even less. But he hadn’t expected her skill, or her speed. And there was no way he could have known that her father had trained her himself—to protect herself—especially from boys like Carlos who refused to take no for an answer. In the end, it was Carlos who’d learned a lesson. The slice down his cheek would leave a scar.
She had been the stronger one when it counted most.
Father would be proud, she thought, lifting her chin. Only he wasn’t here, and she’d no idea where here was.
But there was one thing she knew in the depths of her soul: she was Carmen Medina, youngest daughter of Juan Felipe Medina, the owner of the largest construction company in Bogota and a self-made man who’d risen to wealth and power one smart move at a time. She had his genes, his ruthlessness, his cunning.
She might be alone here, but she wasn’t afraid.
She wanted answers. She wanted clothes. But more than anything else, she wanted a weapon.
* * *
A weapon, the female wanted. The island would see that she found one.
It had let her acclimate long enough.
Summoning heat and air, the island pushed at the female’s back. The island wanted blood, and when it was time, this female would spill it.
Until then, the island would play elsewhere.
Turning inward, the island reached for the seam. The island found it easily, focusing on the invisible wedge left behind, a weak point preventing the seam from closing completely, a remnant of the past that had grown over time. With calculated precision, the island leaned on the wedge, widening the rift between worlds: a razor-thin gap that should not be open, not now. Not after the crucial hour.
But it was. Open and unguarded.
Under the island’s pressure, the seam expanded a mere fraction. A surge of power rolled through the island in a delicious ripple. Through the seam, the island sought the one who had escaped, one it had desperately wanted to keep: the female, Skye. If it couldn’t have her, it would break her.
It was almost time.