The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(55)
Author: M. Leighton

“Now, are you going to be reasonable or am I going to have to be mean?”

I shook my head, in no way ready to do anything less than tear his head off.

Suddenly, I was upright again. Fahl turned and walked toward the trees and, like a balloon tied to a string, I trailed helplessly along behind him, floating several feet off the ground. The pale faces in the shadows grew closer and closer, clearer and clearer until I was upon them.

Their mouths yawned wide and I could hear the clicking of their teeth as they snapped their jaws at me. With their arms outstretched, they clutched and clawed at me, but only so far as the darkness went. I hovered just outside their reach.

I scanned the gruesome faces and tattered clothes, fear rising inside me.

“I could let them have you for a while. That might change your mind,” Fahl crooned happily, stepping into the forest, pulling me along behind him where I could feel greedy hands grabbing at me. I kicked my legs and lashed out with my arms, but there was no resistance, no contact so I drew my legs up out of their reach.

I scanned the ravenous crowd and then I saw him. Derek stood at the back of the crush, arms crossed over his wide chest, staring at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes were dark, onyx beads in a pale face, just like the rest of them.

I felt the pain of my wound again as the chasm in my heart grew, widening as the loss of him became more poignant than ever. Bitterness began to churn in my stomach. Derek held my gaze for several long seconds before he looked to his right. I followed his eyes. And the bottom dropped out of my world.

I existed in a vacuum of pain and suffering, the most incredible sorrow I’d ever felt rushing in on me, occupying all the space around me. I was certain it would suck me into oblivion and I would cease to exist. And, for a moment, I wished for it.

Standing on the other side of the crowd, to Derek’s right, was the pasty, weary face of my father.

When Derek suddenly moved, my attention was drawn back to him. He rushed toward me. For an instant my heart soared, but it was short lived. Though his expression never changed, he raised his hand and lashed out at me, striking my cheek. More than the sting of the slap, I felt the painful burn of my flesh tearing. There was something in his hand.

I looked at him, dumbfounded, my eyes drawn to where his brother’s medal dangled from his fingers. When I raised my eyes to his face again, he was mouthing something to me. My confused brain struggled to make sense of it, rational thought beyond my capability. And then I saw him raise his arms like he used to when he was wielding fire. I looked back at his lips and saw him say, “Fight.”

I looked down at the mob reaching for me and I relaxed my legs, my feet quickly falling to within their grasp. One woman who’d obviously suffered a fatal wound to the side of her head took my foot in her hand and yanked. When my body dipped, I saw her intentions in slow motion. Her mouth opened and she bore her teeth, aiming them toward a spot on my calf just below my knee. Her eyes glazed over with the anticipation of pleasure and her lids drifted shut. And then I kicked her.

My foot made contact with her face and she fell back into the crowd. Frenzy broke out. The faces of the dead twisted into wicked snarls. They turned on each other, biting and jabbing at one another in their efforts to get to me.

Quickly, I scanned as many faces in the crowd as I could. Closing my eyes in concentration, I pictured them in my head and then imagined them all on fire. I heard a loud whoosh and then a blast of heat smacked me in the face.

When I opened my eyes, most of the dead were aflame. They thrashed and danced in pain, shaking their heads and limbs in a futile attempt to escape the blaze. One receded into the shadows, the fire retreating as he sank further into the darkness. It didn’t take the others long to follow suit, falling back as the pain overcame their hunger for my flesh, their thirst for my blood.

My feet touched the ground and I turned toward Fahl. He clapped his hands together once, twice, three times then he picked up the pace as he approached me. A mirthless smile tugged at his lips. “Very good. Even better than I expected, actually. You and your sister are naturals,” he declared cheerfully.

“What have you done to her?”

“I haven’t done anything to her. She’s my reaper.”

“Your what?”

“My reaper. She’s already been very valuable. She has a natural…dark side that you don’t share. But you, you’ve shown your worth, too. You’ve brought me two souls without even trying.”

I knew to whom he was referring. Derek had insinuated that was what he planned to do and seeing my father there left me to draw only one conclusion—he’d made a deal with Fahl, too. “How? How did you get them?”

“They made their own deal, of course, but you were the inspiration. They were both willing to give up their lives to help you, regardless of the…discomfort,” he said.

“Discomfort?” I probably shouldn’t have asked because just then I saw my father grab his throat as if he couldn’t breathe. He gasped and sputtered, his arms flailing and clawing at the air. I looked to Fahl and he was smiling. “Stop it!”

I turned my eyes back to Dad, his expression was one of panic. He fought and kicked at some imaginary force, all to no avail. The veins in his forehead stood out sharply against his pale skin.

“Please stop, please!” I wasn’t afraid to beg. I would’ve done anything at that moment if he would agree to stop whatever he was doing to my father.

Dad shook his head and craned his neck, like he was trying to catch his breath. Finally, water began to spew from Dad’s mouth and his struggling weakened. It was like watching the life drain out of him as he fell to the ground, out of sight behind the crowd.

“What did you do to him?”

“It’s what’s already done. He has the pleasure of reliving his demise over and over and over again. Forever.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “What?” My father was going to have to drown over and over again for…eternity?

“That’s not to say, however, that certain things can’t be undone,” Fahl taunted.

Undone? Desperation struck suddenly, fueled by the little glimmer of hope offered in that one word. “How? Tell me how?”

“I can make a deal with you, too, you know. You can decide who goes free. Your sister, your father, Derek. It’s all up to you.”

“You can’t make me choose,” I cried, a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach.

“Too hard, is it?” Fahl pressed one finger to his lips as if he was reconsidering. “How about dear sister or father and beau. Is that easier?”