The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(25)
Author: M. Leighton

Despite all the troublesome circumstances, my feet were moving to follow him even before I was finished reeling off reasons I should turn around and go home. I had already decided I was going to get to the bottom of this, consequences be damned. Turns out whatever was happening to me was turning me into quite the rebellious risk-taker.

I stepped into the shadows, barely able to see his silhouette enough to follow him. “Wait!”

Ahead I heard a frustrated sigh, but the sounds of his movements through the branches and underbrush stopped.

“You need to be able to move around in the dark. It can be a handicap if you can’t,” he said, the clarity of his voice indicating that he’d turned toward me.

“Why do I need to be able to walk in the woods at night? Is there a lot of occupational need for that?”

“Listen smart-a—“

“Just kidding. Geez,” I said.

“Watch it,” he snapped, turning to continue on once I’d nearly reached him.

He walked a bit more slowly and we made our way further and further into the mountains. The damp, cool air nipped at my nose and cheeks and my fingers were getting very cold. I didn’t see much because my eyes were trained either on Derek’s back or the ground at my feet. I heard the babbling sound of a creek in the distance, though, and the chirps and croaks of various nocturnal creatures all around.

I’d been watching my step as we traversed a fallen log so when Derek stopped in front of me, I ran right into him.

“Sorry,” I said, backing up and stepping around to stand beside him.

The breath hitched in my throat. We had reached a clearing. Even in the dark I recognized it. It was the clearing from my dream. It wasn’t as intimidating, what with no blood-soaked snow or anything, but it was one and the same. And, right now, it was beautiful.

The moon was bigger than I’d ever seen it before, hovering above the tree tops like a giant, glittering diamond. Its light shone brightly through the bare limbs, sparkling in the drops of moisture on the leaf-covered ground. As Derek stepped forward into the clearing, the lunar glow softened his angular features and turned his bronze skin to pearl. As I watched him, I felt the lure of him again, tugging at my soul.

I followed him out, the wings of a million butterflies fluttering anxiously in my stomach. My cold fingertips tingled and my face felt suddenly warm. I’d felt the sensations before, like a power surge or a hot flash.

“Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The power.”

Suddenly I was breathless. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Did you talk to your father?”

“No,” I admitted. “He wasn’t home. But…”

“But what?”

I hesitated before telling him what I’d learned. I was at the point of no return. Intuitively, I knew he was going to tell me something that would forever change my life. And I wasn’t at all certain I really wanted to know.

“Well?”

“I think you were right. About being a twin I mean,” I said.

He shrugged, obviously not surprised. “Now do you believe me?”

“Believe what? You haven’t told me anything yet.”

“That’s why I brought you here.”

“Why? Why here?”

“Because this is where you’ll feel it most. This town sits on a nexus. And this,” he said stretching out his arms. “This is the center.”

Derek walked to the middle of the clearing and stopped. He took off the black leather jacket he wore and circled his shoulders as if he were loosening up for a boxing match. Then he stilled, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He was motionless for several extraordinarily long seconds before I saw him flick his hands in one short snap. There was a faint whoosh and I stared in wonder at the small orb of fire that materialized in the air between his palms.

All the way across the clearing, I felt power radiating from him. It stirred something inside me, tickled something deep inside my chest and belly.

Derek raised his arms to shoulder height, his eyes coming slowly open to meet mine. A bolt of electricity seemed to pass between us, jarring me all the way to my toes. For a second his silvery gaze seemed to glow with the very fire he wielded. Then, as if he were lofting a ball into the air, he flung his hands up and out.

Suddenly, the air above us burst into flame. The fireball exploded into a compact car-sized mass that floated over our heads, lighting the woods around us. The golden sphere shimmered with shades of orange and blue. It was perfectly controlled, however, eliciting not so much as single hiss from any of the damp vegetation around its perimeter.

Heat washed over my face and ruffled my hair. My palms tingled as I watched Derek first shrink then enlarge the ball by moving his hands closer together then farther apart.

And then, with a clap of his hands that made me jump, the fire was gone, as if it had never been. Not even the smell of smoke hung in the air, only the woodsy scent of damp bracken.

“How did you do that?” I was amazed.

“With practice,” he said nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, I had to—“

Derek stopped mid-sentence, his entire body stiff as his expression turned to one of anger, the one I’d dreamt about so often. His hard gaze was fixed beyond my left shoulder. I turned to see what he was looking at.

A gaunt man stood in the woods at edge of the clearing, barely visible in the deep shadow of the trees. A frigid chill spread down my arms and back.

I watched as he stepped forward into the barely-lit clearing. He moved like running water—fluid and nearly silent.

Though I couldn’t identify a cause, I felt a shudder pass through my body; he made me want to cringe for some unfathomable reason.

He was dressed in an ill-fitting jet black suit and collarless button-up shirt. The too-large suit served only to accentuate his emaciated, nearly skeletal appearance. His face was sunken, the bones protruding grotesquely beneath pale, waxy skin. His wispy hair, the blue-black of a raven’s wing, floated weightlessly around his narrow head like static electricity pulled at its tips.

“Fahl,” Derek said tightly. His voice held so much venom I had to look and make sure it was him speaking; it barely even sounded like him.

“Finally,” the man, Fahl, said. His voice was a surprise: smooth as glass and just as cold. It also held the lilt of a British accent.

The man looked toward Derek, who made no comment. The thin man smiled, the kind of smile I imagined a cobra might have if it could make such gestures. It chilled me to the bone.