“No.” I swallowed hard. “That’s the whole point. I don’t want that for you. Mom’s not the only one who’s disappearing. You saw it with your own eyes today—with Teresa. I won’t be me much longer.”
Rhys took a step back like he was stunned to hear me say it out loud, but he didn’t seem surprised. “Then we need to find a doctor.”
I reached for his hands. “Mom did what she could to help me, but the only cure for being a conduit is death. And I don’t want die in some cage—in some hospital. I want to be here, in Quivira, where I belong.”
Rhys squeezed my hands. “Mom may have wanted to come back here, but she didn’t want this for us. You’re my sister, Ash. My twin. I can take care of you.” He looked at me pleadingly.
“You have Beth and Henry to take of now.” I glanced back at the two of them as they tried hard not to listen. “And I have Dane.”
He let go of my hands. “You shouldn’t count on Dane.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” I asked. “What’s he done to you?”
“He’s using you,” Rhys said matter-of-factly, raising his chin.
“Using me for what?” I asked, feeling completely spent.
“Besides the obvious? I don’t know yet, but I don’t plan on hanging around with him long enough to find out. And neither should you.”
“You’re wrong about him,” I whispered as I descended the stairs.
“Ash,” he called after me.
I paused, looking up at him, hoping for a bit of forgiveness, some understanding, but his eyes were dark—darker than my mother’s when she dug the bone needle into my flesh.
“You should know, I’m staying up here tonight.” He nodded toward the front door.
“What, you’re going to guard the door? You can’t stop me from seeing Dane.”
“I know you have your mind set on self-destruction, but if you care anything for me, for Beth or Henry, you’ll stay away from him until the solstice. He’s the one person who can get us out of this hellhole. If you’re caught with him, we’ll never leave.”
I ran down the stairs to my mother’s room.
As soon as I closed the door, I felt the ribbon stir against my neck. “Not now.” I clenched my arms to my chest trying to dampen the feelings, but another presence surged through my bloodstream, like a powerful narcotic. When I thought of my brother, guarding the door, I started to panic. There was no stopping me when the memories took over. I punched Dane in the face last night. If Rhys tried to get in my way, I had no idea what I was capable of. I’d never been so afraid of my own body.
I tried to hang on to the present, but my mind raced—Dane caressing my hip, Beth whispering she would protect my secret, Katia’s golden blade pulsing in her hand, the grainy image of Heartbreak Tree—until my thoughts turned to nightmares.
The deep hum in my bloodstream would not be denied.
Staring out the window at the dark water, I knew it wouldn’t be long.
Without another thought, I opened the window and escaped into the night.
As I ran through the woods, I felt myself losing ground, losing myself, until I finally disintegrated into another time.
36
IN TOO DEEP
AT THE EDGE of the sacred circle, I peer between the stalks. Dread presses down on me, crushing me, holding me in place. In the center of the circle there’s a dark pit, like a gaping mouth into another world. Just the sight of it brings the taste of blood and bile to my mouth. I don’t need to get any closer to know the crevice is deep, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.
A chill rushes over my skin as I realize I’m not alone.
Something’s moving inside the chasm. A sound like jagged fingernails digging into rock—crumbling black shale mixed with the noxious scent of blood.
Whatever’s inside that crevice carries a darkness—something that wants to ooze inside of me to snuff out any other light.
I’m so close I can hear the low gurgling sound in the back of its throat, like a dripping wet death rattle.
? ? ?
“Ashlyn,” Dane’s voice whispered, pulling me back from the edge of terror.
I came to, standing in the corn, naked, covered in blood, clutching a knife.
“It’s me. You’re safe.” Dane pried the knife from my clenched fist. My knees buckled, like they’d been locked in place for hours.
He swept me up in his arms, carrying me through the corn, back toward Quivira.
“What have I done?” I asked in a hoarse voice, staring down at my trembling hands, slick with blood. But there were no wounds.
“You found my knife . . . the one I lost in the corn.”
“Did I hurt you?” I felt woozy as I searched his skin for damage, but the only thing I found was a small cut on his hand, a defensive wound.
“You just grazed me,” he assured me.
“But all this blood—”
“You’re the daughter of the vessels and a conduit. You probably cut yourself and healed back up again before I found you.”
“Why would I cut myself?”
“Conduits have a tendency toward self-mutilation.”