Miles away, the dust still encircled in bright yellow waves round the towering heights of Calen. The screams had died out, only occasionally piercing the sound of the wind, the scattered few survivors being hunted by whatever lurked in the shadows.
Two figures raced through the storm, staying hidden when needed, bursting through the streets when the chance arose. They seemed to almost be wraiths, much like the monsters around them. However, there was intent in their movement, a deeper purpose that anyone who caught a glimpse of their movement would understand—if they were able to catch them.
Ryan and Marcus ran from one building to the next, moving with purpose and determination. They were supposed to be on opposite sides. One a young Shifter, the other an elder Vampire, and yet they were working together without question. In subtle yet swift movements they swept every corner of the city, and found nothing.
They did find survivors. Many of them, spread out across the city in groups, hiding. Ryan suggested recruiting, but Marcus quickly reminded him that the reason they were still alive was because they were out of Adelaide’s, and her beasts’, sight. Fighting the hybrids loose in the streets of Calen was suicide for any survivor, and the best they could do was not bring attention to themselves until some solution had been found.
As they searched, they didn’t run into any hybrids. Rogue Vamps and Werewolves, eyes red, were compelled to attack them, but they had handled each with ease. Ryan hated to admit it, but they made a pretty good team. It made Ryan anxious: why were they not chasing them? Or were they on a more specific mission? One similar, if not the same, as their own?
They couldn’t find what they were looking for—more specifically, who.
Atlanta was nowhere to be found.
For Ryan, the endless sweeping of the city seemed to take forever. It felt useless, but needed to be done. He had to find Atlanta. He had to explain... explain what? That he had no idea what had happened? That he couldn’t remember? His memory, although foggy, was slowly returning. He could remember before his father’s death, but the time he’d been compelled by Adelaide still resided in the shadows, prickling his consciousness second by second, slowly taking peeks into the realm of his awareness. As much as he wanted to forget, he couldn’t help but push himself to try to remember. Something had happened. So much had changed, and yet the feelings inside of him remained the same.
“How did James die again?” he asked Marcus.
Marcus moved quietly along the shadows. “I’ve already told you.”
Ten times? Twenty times? It didn’t matter. He needed to know. He’d been a party to what had happened and he still had no memory of it. “Just tell me again. It’s a good distraction.”
“A good distraction from what?”
“From all of this!” Ryan’s voice rose as he brought his hands up and motioned to everything around him. “To the city of Calen.”
“You are not responsible, Ryan.”
“You don’t know.” His voice dropped to a mumble, “I don’t know.”
“A hybrid killed James. It wasn’t you.”
“How come I don’t remember?”
“It’ll come back. Give it time. Right now, we need to focus on finding Atlanta. Where are the places she would go? Think hard. There are places you might know.”
Ryan sighed. “Maybe the school?”
“We’ve been there, and it’s too dangerous to enter. She’s not there. Where else?”
“Her house, but she’s not there.” They approached the suburbs of Calen for the third time that night. There, the wave of dust was less intense and the green of the forests behind the houses hovered through the specks of earth in the air. The road they walked on was adorned with gravel and cobblestones that had fallen and cemented itself to the road from the wind.
“This is pointless,” Ryan said in frustration as he kicked some of the loose cobblestones to the dry bushes across from them.
Marcus glared at him and then looked back at the road. Ryan could tell the Vampire was holding himself back from reacting to the hopelessness in Ryan’s voice. “If there was something better to do, we would be doing it,” Marcus replied in a low voice.
Ryan walked on, quiet for a bit. Then he asked Marcus again, “I was there, right? I was there when James died?” He was glad the sand and grit was in the air—it was an excuse for the stinging in his eyes.
“You did not kill James.”
“But Atlanta would be safe if James was still alive. He would protect her.”
“Maybe someone else is protecting her.”
“Like who?”
Marcus sighed loudly. “I don’t know! It should be us!”
“I know. It should be us.”
“We’re going to find her, Ryan. James trained her well. She’s smart, fast, an excellent fighter. She’s a better Druid than most. She had the best teacher.”
Ryan let Marcus take the lead as they moved forward. He knew Atlanta was all that and more. But what if all this had been planned? “What if Adelaide’s gotten to her already?” Ryan glared up at the city, as if this was its fault. He knew it wasn’t Calen’s fault. It was his own. He’d done this. He was the one responsible. He kept the thought buried deep inside him, refusing to acknowledge it. “The longer we keep this up, the more I’m willing to believe that.”
He suddenly stopped. His eyes widened as the inside of his head felt like there were daggers piercing through his skull. His fists balled up, and he felt a shudder race through him. A sharp breath escaped through his locked jaw.
“What is it?” Marcus asked.
Ryan didn’t answer. They’d been walking aimlessly and Ryan hadn’t taken note of where they were. Now, gazing at the willow tree outside Skylar’s house, Adelaide’s house, he felt a rush of emotions race through him. He fell to his knees, the memories rushing back like a constant attack on his being.
“Skylar. It was Skylar,” Ryan whispered after gasping for air. “She’s the one who compelled me. She’s the one who put me under the spell. Skylar is Adelaide.”
“You disappeared for a while after the attack on your house,” Marcus walked up to Ryan and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You went up to the mountains to regain your strength. That’s what James said. Then everything changed when you got back.”
Ryan looked past the tree and through the forests behind the house, then his sight shifted towards the house itself. He remembered he was never in the mountains when he took off after... after his father died. “I never left...” All he could remember were flashes of scenes of him being in that house. Skylar’s home—No, Adelaide’s house. “After seeing my father’s body behind our house, I fought with the hybrid.”
“You did?”
Ryan nodded. The memory came back to him, quick, like a physical assault. It hurt his head, and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to push the excruciating pain back. He didn’t want to tell Marcus any of it, not really. He still had reservations regarding the Vampire, despite the fact that they were in this hell together. He wished Atlanta was here.
“I remember his face hidden under his hood,” he said. “The rage was the worst of it. I had never felt anything like it. I usually feel myself shifting, the bones breaking and rearranging themselves, all of it. But not this time. This time I only saw the hybrid, and all the things I wanted to do to it.” He turned to look at Marcus. “That monster killed my father, and all I wanted to do was rip it to shreds, tear it from limb to limb, bury my teeth in its flesh until I was crunching bone. The anger blinded me, and even though I tried to kill it that thing took me down like I was nothing. Like I was some teddy bear or something. And then it was in my head, and everything I did, everything I said, it was like someone else was doing it and I was only watching.” Ryan paused. “I wasn’t in the mountains like you told me; I was actually here. Right behind that door.” Ryan pointed towards the door of the house. “Prisoner and compelled.”
A light flickered behind one of the windows on the left side of the door.
“Did you see that?” Ryan asked as he lifted himself up and jogged towards the house. He didn’t know if Marcus was following him or not as he sprinted to the front door. A memory of being dragged through the door flashed before him. He hadn’t come here willingly after his father’s death.
The sound of ceramic plates crashing against a wall echoed inside. The curtains where he’d seen the light, moved, as if pushed by a wind.
Someone’s inside.
Ryan tilted his head. He swore he could hear, or sense, something flying or hovering, or something. Hadn’t Atlanta said there were ravens? He glanced up in the air but the dust distracted him and he could see no birds.
“Silence!” Marcus commanded, grabbing Ryan by the shoulder as his eyes searched the whole perimeter of the house.
“What is it?” Ryan asked, shrugging out of Marcus’s grip.
“I hear... something.”
“Me, too. Plates be tossed. Someone’s ticked.”
“No, another sound.”
Ryan frowned and listened. There was the dim humming he’d noticed before. “I thought it was... well, birds. Atlanta mentioned she’d seen ravens. I thought...”
“I’ve heard that sound before,” Marcus said, ignoring Ryan. His eyes burned and his fangs glistened as he focused. “Hybrid.” He signaled to Ryan to continue walking towards the house. Silently, they approached the door.
Ryan glanced in the window. He shook his head at Marcus. He could see nothing but the dark maroon of the curtains that fell over the glass. He turned just in time to see Marcus open the front door, the sound of creaking following. Ryan had no choice but to follow.
The house reeked of rotten eggs. Sulfur. And the gagging stench of dead... rats. There was barely any furniture inside, except for a black grand piano by the windows and a long couch just a few feet behind it.
Ryan tried to listen again, but could no longer hear anything suspicious. He cautiously moved towards the kitchen, his eyes briefly resting on a round grey ceramic plate on the table. He figured it must had been moved for him to have heard the sound when they were outside.
Something’s not right.
There was blood on the wood floor right under him, and the smell of gasoline assaulted his nostrils.
Suddenly the humming returned, attacking his senses from all directions. He cringed, rushing out of the kitchen to Marcus who stood by the grand piano, his face scrunched, obviously just as uncomfortable as Ryan was.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” Ryan asked. When Marcus nodded, Ryan continued, “It’s like someone’s clawing at the inside of my head.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
The door leading outside creaked and then slammed shut. Marcus held up a hand, signaling for Ryan to wait. The ground beneath them began to shake. The walls vibrated. The piano played itself in and out of key until its legs collapsed and fell to the ground, ending the banal piece it was playing.
“Marcus?” Ryan shouted.
Marcus stood stoic, staring at the closed door, as if expecting something to burst through it any moment.
Ryan glanced frantically around. What’s going on?
Then he looked up at the ceiling, trying to see what was going on outside the house, above them. Something’s falling from the sky. A plummeting sound increased, descending at an incredibly high speed.
Suddenly, a burst of flames exploded outside the house, flashing against the dark curtains.
Ryan braced himself, the force almost throwing him off his feet as he cursed. Flames began eating the porch outside. The house groaned in protest and trembled.
“They’ve found us!” Ryan yelled.
“Out!” Marcus screamed at the same time. “Back door! Outside now!”
But it was too late.
The crevices of the house enlarged and the cracks on the walls distanced themselves from the pillars of the house. The shaking made progress almost impossible, and before they could find their way out of the pandemonium around them the house collapsed and fell.