18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

S omething was amiss.

Aya felt the uneasy feeling clawing at her chest the moment they departed Nora's club. Alexios left for his mansion, leaving Tobias to accompany her home. The sensation intensified as they rode the horses back to the house. She tried to reach out to Sabra but only silence answered.

"Still nothing?" Tobias asked.

Her jaw twitched. "No."

Aya tried to reach out through the shadows, calling on the dead. But they drifted out of reach, stubbornly ignoring her call. Their restlessness tainted the air, lifting the hairs along her skin. It curled around her bones until every part of her ached.

It felt like an eternity by the time they finally crested the last hill to home. The forest finally thinned out, yielding to the familiar clearing. The house emerged, strangely quiet, and no luminous glow from within. None of the others were back yet—or had both succumbed to sleep? Aya frowned as she slid down from the saddle and passed the reins as Tobias dismounted.

"They should be home by now." A tiny thread of panic wove into her voice. "Why aren't they back?"

She looked back to the forest, wondering just where the hell they were. Her gut cramped into a tiny ball, squeezing at the meagre meal she'd nibbled at during their visit to the club. The bile singed the back of her throat, burning along her tongue. She swallowed it back down.

Tobias returned after a few minutes, the horses unsaddled and left to roam the woods. His own face pinched into a deep frown, the edges of his eyes crinkling. A reminder he held a few years on her, living through enough shit to have left it aging him.

"I can't pick up any recent scents. They haven't been back here since we all left this morning."

Aya peered into the ancient forest. "I'm going to—"

"Aya!" Elaine's voice split the night.

A second later, she was galloping through. She pulled up sharply and jumped down, cheeks flushed, gleaming with rivulets of sweat. Her lips opened and shut, a battle to get the words out as she stumbled over. Heavy breaths wracked her body.

Aya closed the distance. She was okay, she was—

"Where's Sabra?"

Elaine's gaze lifted and Aya's gut plummeted to the ground. "Zari found us at the temple ruins."

Her blood ran cold. Aya reached for her, inspecting every inch for damage. A tiny cut was red along her neck. The cut of a blade, one that had been pressed against Elaine's neck. Anger flared—molten, vicious—and the cold monster within her stirred, snarling and pacing. It demanded blood and death and vengeance.

"What were you doing there? And where did you get the horse?"

Tobias fetched the startled beast and was leading it to the rear of the house.

"From Tarla. We went to the temple where you…where I…It doesn't matter right now. What does is that when we were leaving, Zari appeared. They—" Red stained Elaine's cheeks, creeping around her ears. "They had a knife to my throat, and they did something to my magic, made it so that I couldn't do a damn thing. Told Sabra that if she didn't go with them that they would slit my throat."

Aya turned away, curses spilling free from her lips. Heat flared across her cheeks, creeping up her neck. Her hands curled into tight fists, nails biting half-moons into her palm. Blood pricked, blooming against her skin. Droplets fell upon the grass, but she didn't care. Sabra was with the enemy, and she couldn't make contact.

She was going to murder that fucking demon.

"I'm okay," Elaine murmured, touching the side of Aya's face.

She leaned into her hand, softening for a breath before she staggered back. "We have to find her."

"But how? Can you sense her through the bond?"

Aya reluctantly shook her head.

Tobias returned, looking worriedly between them. "What about the dead?"

A heavy breath escaped her lips as she shook her head. "Something has them spooked. I tried speaking to them before, but they aren't listening."

Even before she said the words, she knew what she had to do. Tobias might be able to have Alexios send his people out to look, and there was always Nora. But she had a whole army she could use, she just had to figure out how to make them listen. And there was only one way to make that happen. Even if it scared the shit out of her.

"Aya?" Elaine's voice dipped in worry.

She turned back to the pair, squaring her shoulders. "I think it's time I speak with my people."

Aya sat down in the middle of their bedroom room, letting her wings relax down her back. They flared out across the floor, shimmering black in the moonlight. A warm breeze spilled in from the open window, dancing across her skin. It ferried the deep scent of oak and leaf litter, and of the garden Sabra loved so much.

Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of her friend. She quickly wiped them away and sucked in several deep breaths. Turning her gaze inward, she called for the thread connecting to her people.

The room spiraled away from her as she plunged into the darkness. Her wings snapped wide, slowing her descent. The dark suddenly bled away, yielding rapidly to a blinding sunny sky and a sprawling meadow. The forest of her people sprung up before her, their song pulling her forward.

Warm sunlight danced over her cheeks as she set off. She tucked her wings in and tramped over the tall grass. As she approached the tree line, a figure emerged from the shadows. Aya kept going as they moved into sunlight, their face sharpening into view.

"Aya!" her mother cried out.

Aya was off running before she realized it, her feet barely touching the ground. She stopped suddenly before her, breathing hard. Sweat gathered along her brow. Her mother took a step forward, reaching for her. Aya flinched away.

Her mother's hand dropped away. "What's wrong?"

"I need help," she blurted out. "The dead aren't listening to me."

Shadows flickered across her mother's face. Was that hurt or disappointment Aya saw?

"You came for training?"

Aya straightened up, defenses slamming into place.

"That tends to happen when there aren't any other living necromancers." The words were out before she could snatch them back. Her mother flinched under the blow, looking away. Regret blistered Aya's cheeks. She reached out, taking her mother's slender hands, far smaller than she remembered—though, she supposed, the last time she held them like this, she had only been a young child.

She cleared her throat. "I should've come sooner, I'm sorry."

"Then why didn't you?"

Her heart was a fist of thunder, nearly bursting out of her chest. Instinct screamed at her to run, that her mother could never truly accept what she was—couldn't gaze upon her blood-soaked hands and not turn away. Aya dug her heels in. For Sabra she would be brave, even in the face of her mother.

She forced the words out.

"Because I was afraid if I let you see me—truly see me—and all that I had become, I didn't think you would want to see me. Let alone train me. I told myself I didn't need the training, that I had survived all this time without it." Aya released her mother's hand and raked a shaky hand through her hair. "But the truth is that my friend is taken, and I tried calling on the dead, but something has them spooked. They're not listening to me, and I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried peering through their eyes?" her mother asked gently.

Aya stilled, not expecting the advice so freely. "I don't understand?"

"We are the bridge between life and death. It is how we can pass from the living realm where you live to ones like this. With more training, you will be able to walk across realms. And with that skill, we can peer through the dead, see the world through their eyes." Her mother reached up and gently cupped the side of her face. "I see that you are no longer the little girl I hid beneath the floor of my home, and I am glad. That girl wouldn't have survived, certainly not in the world that was so determined to eradicate us. But you did. "

Aya pulled away. "And all the blood on my hands? I have cut people down for money, given they deserved it being the worst kinds of people. But I have broken so many of Akaria's laws."

"And has Akaria cast you out? Condemned you?"

She thought of the meeting and the deal that hung over her neck like a blade. A lump trapped her tongue. She slowly shook her head.

"No. She…she and I have spoken." She wasn't ready to tell her mother about the deal, not when she'd not even decided herself what her actions would be—if resurrecting an entire population was even possible for a single necromancer.

"Then it is not for me or anyone else to judge. If Akaria has blessed you with her presence, then her judgement is made."

It wasn't the answer she expected—or wanted, if she was being honest. Because a little voice at the back of her mind still whispered her mother didn't approve of the blood. That she only accepted her because Akaria hadn't condemned her. If she refused the deal with the goddess, earning her scorn, would she also lose her people?

Conditional love, she realized, that was what she hadn't seen coming. Not condemnation, which she might shield as she did with her enemies, or the unconditional love she'd hoped secretly for. It was worse, striking deeper than she cared to admit to anyone.

She drove the dark voices back down, refusing to dwell on them. Not when Sabra's life was at risk.

"How do I look through the dead?"

Her mother paused before she spoke. "If they aren't listening to your summons, you must stretch out your mind as far as it can go. Connect with them, force the link, and allow yourself to slip into their minds. If you're quick about it, they won't fight you on it. They won't even realize you're there."

"And if they do?" Aya glanced to the sky, warming her cheeks against the sun. "The living doesn't like those kinds of intrusions. Can't imagine the dead will be any kinder."

"If one resists, it'll hurt—however, if enough fight back, it will put you unconscious." There was a pause before her mother spoke again, and by then, Aya looked upon her, wary. "There is a risk you should be aware of."

"It could kill me?"

Her mother nodded. "I wish there was another way but short of forcing all the dead to submit—a feat I don't think you're ready for—this is the only way. And I suspect this friend of yours means enough that you would do whatever you could. At least this way, you go into it with knowledge, and not just accidentally stumbling into the skill. That is the fastest way to get yourself killed."

Aya flashed her a broad grin. "Trust me, I have no intention of dying again. Besides, I've survived worse. A few pissy spirits won't be what kills me."

In a blink, her mother hauled her into her arms. Warmth wrapped around her, steady as it had been for her as a child. So much like the last hug she received right before her mother shoved her under the floorboards to hide from the soldiers. Aya returned the hug, squeezing fiercely. Her mother might only be accepting her because Akaria hadn't abandoned her, but she decided she would take what she could get for the moment. Perhaps later once she'd sorted through her feelings, she could have a proper talk with her family. Consequences with Akaria be damned.

Her mother reluctantly pulled away first and frowned. "I sense a witch on you."

Aya froze, the blood draining from her face. The words died on her lips, any protest crumbling away to ash before her very eyes. Of course, her mother would sense Elaine. She'd practically been attached to her witch every day since their fight with Honoria. Magical traces no doubt left etched indelibly upon her skin.

Her mother pulled away, eyes wide. "An Arcan witch?"

"It's not what you think." The words choked past her lips, strangled to a whisper.

"They hunted us, and you're with one of them?"

Aya braced herself against the blow and pushed back. Her wings snapped wide. At once, the world darkened around her. Shadows reached out, purring softly. She felt her own eyes bleed to black as she stared her mother down.

"She was hunted, too, and her name is Elaine Tormelin." Aya stepped back and snapped her fingers. "We're done here."

"Wait, Aya, I—"

She had no interest to listen.

The world faded away.

It was time to find Sabra.

Aya stumbled downstairs, still shaking from the confrontation. Blood thundered in her ears, drowning out the creaks and groans of the house. It flexed around her, the steps bending a little underfoot. The second she reached the bottom, Elaine was up from the dining table, striding toward her. She stopped dead before her, eyes softening, no doubt seeing the scars laid bare.

She carefully stepped around Elaine and headed for the door. Tobias strode out of the kitchen, water pitcher in hand. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"How did it go?"

"I know what I need to do."

Aya reached for the handle when he spoke again.

"They found out about Elaine, didn't they?"

Of course, her pain, even so deeply buried beneath a stony mask, was clear to him.

She slanted him a quiet look, a single word passing silently between them. Yes. Tearing her gaze away, she pushed the door open. It creaked in protest. Aya strode through and knelt. She heard the others come out behind her, keeping a few feet away. Just as well, she didn't know what her powers would be like. She just wished the conversation hadn't soured so quickly, that she had more time to ask questions before her mother found out about Elaine.

Aya leaned forward and pressed her palms into the cold earth. Damp soil soaked her skin. She closed her eyes, opening her mind to the forest. It stretched out over the forest, sprinting through the trees and over fallen logs. Down hills and over streams, she found the dead, one by one, linking them to her mind.

A throb began behind her right eye, but she pushed on, quickly latching onto every spirit she found. Soon, a hundred were bound to her mind.

Once she had enough souls linked, she pulled back and drew in a deep breath. Held it for a second then pushed it out, dropping the walls in her mind. Images exploded in her mind, the sight of the souls rushing through her mind. A torrent consuming her in noise and color, blinding and chaotic. Their emotions crashed through her in waves; pain of the lives they lost, of those they couldn't speak with anymore, of the regrets they held in death. All the failures that bound them to the realm, keeping them from moving on.

Something metallic brushed against her lips.

Aya latched onto one spirit first, taking stock of their surroundings. They were deep in the woods, far from anything of note. She pushed on, moving on to the next ghost, then the next and more, until dozens fell away. Despair began to grow in her mind. None appeared to be somewhere she could sense Sabra through them.

Her mother said the connection was like a window, so long as she didn't make them aware of her presence. But she needed them to look. Aya knew she could weather their assault; if it meant bringing Sabra home, she would defy death itself, and fight the gods to save her life. And if one hair on her head was harmed? She would rip those responsible apart with her teeth, savoring their screams and blood as it glistened on her skin.

She would ruin them all to bring Sabra home.

She tugged on the bond to the dead souls. Their awareness flared to life—a surge of raw energy slammed into her mind. A cry broke loose from her lips. Aya gritted her teeth, refusing to let go, as she summoned a single command to her mind.

Find Sabra.

She drove the command through the link, and Sabra's face she willed in their minds. Their rage crashed against her mind, fighting the order with every scrap of their being. They wanted no part of the search.

Aya's control started to slip.

Please.

Some of the dead snapped a single, booming response.

No.

Only half remained, fading away as she battled for control. Trying to claw them back, to cling to the bond. She screamed through the link, begging for help.

Please, help me!

And this time, the remaining dead answered in a single voice that roared through her mind and struck right down to her soul.

Yes.