Into the Real Page 4

  It didn’t matter if I was ready or not. Before I could respond, Lloyd and two of his followers had lifted the large piece of marble with a groan. Dropping to my knees, I peered into the opening, but it was pitch-black inside. Images of blood filled my head. It was a perfect place for the Unseen Hands to appear.

  Lloyd’s voice was strained. “What are you waiting for, Quinn? This isn’t exactly featherweight.”

  “It’s dark in there.”

  “So?”

  “So, hand me a lantern or something.”

  “How are you going to hold a lantern and climb down? Get in and I’ll hand you one.” His patience was running thin. If I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain soon, he was going to make me pay for it in one way or another.

  With Lia’s face locked in the forefront of my mind, I climbed through the hole and dropped to the floor below. Not an ounce of light could be found inside the cellar. I called up to Lloyd, “Okay, I’m in. Now give me a lantern.”

  My request was met with a lingering silence. What were they doing up there?

  From behind me came a noise that I didn’t recognize as anything but movement. My heart jumped to a racing pace so fast that my head swam. “Lloyd. I’m not messing around. Give me a light.”

  The darkness was thick. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt harder to move. Were Unseen Hands closing in on me now? Would it be painless when they tore me to bits? Or would I feel their fingernails digging into my skin and tearing through my muscles—their hands gripping my bones and crushing them?

  A tapping, scraping noise sounded to my left. Fingernails on wood. It had to be. The Unseen Hands were coming for me. My chest tightened in panic. “Lloyd!”

  The fingernails scratched across the floor toward me. They were coming. They were coming. They were co—

  A small, soft body bumped into my ankle and crawled over my boot. A rat. It was just a stupid rat.

  Laughter burst out above me, which made me wonder if they’d known about the rat and had planned a prank in advance. Pricks. Barely able to contain his amusement, Lloyd said, “What’s the matter, Quinn?”

  “Nothing,” I snapped, kicking the rat away from my feet. I had to restrain myself from punting the stupid thing across the room. All that intense fear over nothing but a flea-ridden rodent. I was going soft. “Just . . . give me the damn lantern already.”

  Muttered words from above gave me the impression that Lloyd was handing off his share of the heavy load to one of his gang members. I had no idea who, and frankly didn’t care to ask. I just wanted to be done with this little excursion and on my way to the next place to crash.

  The lantern illuminated the wine cellar with a soft glow as Lloyd lowered it down to me. Three of the walls were lined with large wooden racks, mostly empty. The bottles that were there were covered in dust and cobwebs. I wondered how long wine would stay good. I imagined a long while. After all, it was pretty much just rotten grape juice. How much rottener could it get over time?

  “What’s the haul look like down there?”

  After doing a quick count, I said, “About ten bottles. Maybe fifteen.”

  “Careful handing them up. These are precious goods we’re talking about.”

  With an eye roll, I reached for the first bottle and lifted it from its place. I think I detested Lloyd’s condescension the most out of all his endearing traits. “Don’t worry. I can manage.”

  It took me only a few minutes to empty the shelves, handing the bottles up to Lloyd two at a time. The rat had disappeared by then to who knows where.

  I had dropped about six feet to get into the cellar. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to make my way back out again on my own, even if I made use of the wine racks as a ladder. Once I’d handed the last dusty bottle up to Lloyd, I said, “Give me a hand, would ya? Help me up.”

  “Not yet.” Lloyd’s face appeared through the hole above me. The glow from the lantern lit up his confident smile. “You and I still have to have a little discussion first. One about loyalty.”

  Shit.

  “A discussion about how you’re going to join my friends and me in our makeshift family.”

  Of course. Why had I expected a fair deal from him in the first place? Shaking my head, I said, “I’m not doing that. I told you before.”

  His accompanying gang members had fallen silent—either that or the majority of them had exited the house. At least three were still holding the marble up. But it was just the three of us in that cellar—me, the rat, and my utter hatred of Lloyd.

  “The thing is, I could stay here and listen to your reasons—how you don’t trust us, how you don’t like the way we ‘terrorize’ people, how you think you’re better off going solo for however long you have left in this world before something kills you too. Or . . .” The corners of his mouth curled into the triumphant smile of a guy who knew he’d already won. In that moment, I was glad I’d hit him in the face with my bat. “I could stand up, have them drop the marble back in place, and leave you here to starve. Or worse. It is, as you so kindly pointed out before, quite dark down there. And that lantern is running pretty low on oil.”

  Textbook Lloyd. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

  In agreement with my assessment, he offered a casual nod. “I may be. But you’re smart enough to know when you’re screwed. So how about you get on with agreeing to join our little family, and I help you outa that hole? It’s not like it would be the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. You’d have protection, food, supplies . . . as much sage as you needed.”

  Lia’s face entered my thoughts. Her hands. Her eyes. The sound of her laughter filled my head.

  My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. I hated Lloyd, hated everything he stood for—no matter what he offered me. Glaring up at him, I growled, “Deal. Now get me out of this damn hole.”

  With a satisfied smile, he extended his hand and gripped my forearm. I pushed up with my feet, bracing myself on the cellar shelves as best as I could. Several of the smaller pieces of wood broke off under my weight. With a final hard pull from Lloyd, I was waist-high out of the hole and crawling free of it. Once I was clear, his followers dropped the marble back into place and Lloyd stood tall over me. Again, the people standing behind him reminded me of stray cats—only now I was the mouse for them to toy with. Despite my efforts to appear calm, my jaw tensed as I moved my eyes over the kitchen in search of a path of escape.

  Lloyd slid his dagger free from the sheath on his thigh. The scar on his cheek was smooth and shiny. He took a step toward me, lifting his blade. His hands were steady, and his eyes gleamed with triumph. “Welcome to the family, Quinn.”

  Four arms pulled me to my feet and kept me captive as Lloyd approached with his blade. He put the knife to my cheek, dragging the tip of it along my skin. Not enough to break the surface. Just enough to send a frightened chill up my spine. But the cut was coming—an X on my cheek to mark me as one of their own. The physical pain I could handle. Yielding to a group of bullies and their demands—that’s what soured my stomach.

  A sound thundered through the house, shaking it. It was an explosion, I was sure, and not one far off. One of the gang’s stash-protecting booby traps had been tripped. Lloyd eased the blade back as he looked toward the door. The hands on me relaxed, only for instant, but I jumped at my chance. Slipping free of their grip, I bolted through the kitchen and living room, out the front door. Lloyd’s shouts followed me as I jumped from the porch to the ground and ran as fast as I could down the street, my footfalls slapping the pavement as I flew. It was already growing dark outside—making it darker still on the street for several blocks, under the canopy of trees. I didn’t know where I was headed. I only knew that I was better off anywhere than in Lloyd’s collection of mindless followers, and that wherever I was going, I had better get there fast.

  Lloyd’s so-called family didn’t stay behind for long. Soon their approach was all I could hear. They were growing louder and louder as they
closed in on me. Hunting me. Chasing me down. As if they’d anticipated an attempt at escape, several of them already had the spaces between houses ahead of me blocked. They were tunneling me in, so I had nowhere to go but forward, down the street—and I was willing to bet that I wouldn’t be allowed that freedom for much longer. How long before a couple of them found their way around me, drawing near, and doing who knows what to me? I wagered they’d drag me back to Lloyd, but how was I to know?

  Behind me, I heard a loud pop, followed by what sounded like a very brief rain shower. Screams followed, and I heard some of the chasing footfalls cease, but not all. My heart raced in fear as I pushed myself forward at a quicker pace. Another pop—this one closer—made me stumble. When I turned my head to glance back, I saw a mist of red hang in the air for just a moment before falling to the street. One boy was standing next to the puddle, his shocked face and shaking hands coated in it, his mouth agape, bottom lip trembling. It was the Unseen Hands. It had to be. I hadn’t thought it was dark enough on the shadowed streets for them to be a real threat. But what else could it be?

  I picked up my pace, my feet slapping the ground as I ran. At the end of the street, the trees broke and revealed a patch of pale sunlight. I could make it. I could—POP! The blood spattered the right side of my body. Before I could get even another yard down the street, another POP sounded to my left, covering me in gore. Pushing myself harder than I ever had, my lungs burning, I ran toward the light against a symphony of murder—nothing but screams and exploding bodies in my wake. Daring another glance black, I saw that the deaths were occurring in such quick succession now that a cloud of blood was behind me. Within it, I swore I saw . . .

  No. No, it couldn’t be.

  The outline of hands—only visible because of the blood that surrounded them. They stretched out, reaching for me. I swore I felt fingers grip my hood. Diving forward, I stretched out my body, reaching for the light. I hit the ground with a grunt and scrambled farther, whipping my head back just to catch a confirming glimpse of what I’d sworn I saw in the blood. Only . . . there was nothing. No sign of Lloyd or any of his gang members. At least a dozen of my pursuers had been torn into liquid, specks of flesh and bone that now dotted the streets in messy crimson puddles, but otherwise, the street was empty.

  A sharp pain lit up my arm, and when I looked down, my nerves were once again on edge. A rusted piece of rebar had punctured my biceps when I fell. Gripping the metal in my hand, I pulled it free. A scream tore through my throat, and my world went out of focus.

  A voice—exasperated, frightened, concerned—sounded in the distance, then moments later, in my ear. “Quinn! What happened? You’re covered in blood! Jesus, look at your arm! Come on. Let us help you. It’s getting dark. We’ve got to get you somewhere safe.”

  We. The word pierced my heart. Four arms lifted me to my feet and kept me balanced as we stumbled for safety. Lia’s . . . and Caleb’s.

  22

  The world was on fire and I was its kindling. I felt like I was burning up, burning alive. How long had I been like this? Hours? Days? Years? I couldn’t be sure. Time didn’t work right anymore. The smell of sage filled my nostrils, making me feel safe. I felt removed from the world. Maybe I was. Now there was only heat, and pain, and me.

  Something cool and wet filled my mouth, and I swallowed, grateful for whatever it was and whoever had given it to me. Then there was nothing. Like sleep, I supposed, but like death too.

  Just . . . nothing.

  Like the edges of Brume.

  Then there was the sensation of my head on something soft, my back against a hard surface. A moist cloth dabbed at my forehead. Opening my eyes took concerted effort. When I finally managed, I saw Lia kneeling beside me, wiping my fevered brow.

  “Lia?” Clearing my throat, I croaked, “How long have I been out?”

  Her eyes met mine, a spark of surprise lighting them. But she didn’t let her surprise show in her tone. “You’ve been out of it for hours. At first, we couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. Then the fever set in. Pretty sure it’s infected.”

  “After only a few hours? Is that even possible?”

  “You’d be surprised how fast an infection can take hold. How’s your arm feel?”

  “Hurts, but I’ll live.” She winced at my words. It was slight, but I saw it. Was she actually concerned that I wouldn’t? My arm felt like a foreign object lying on my chest. Heavy. Strange. “How’d you find me?”

  “It was inching toward night, and I didn’t care for the way we left each other earlier, so I thought, ‘If I were a giant pain in the ass named Quinn, where would I be?’ The rest was just happenstance.” She poured a little water from her canteen onto the rag she was holding and washed the blood from my cheeks. The cool kiss of moisture was a welcome relief.

  Looking around, I could see that we were indoors, but didn’t recognize the room. Moonlight poured in through a large bay window. The floor I lay on was cracked marble. Lia’s jacket was rolled up and tucked under my head like a pillow. My skull felt like it was full of unstable waters, my brain sliding violently from one side to the other with the slightest movement. Images flashed through my mind of the events of the day and I muttered to an absent Lloyd, “I hope the rotten grape juice was worth it.”

  Lia hung the rag over the back of what had once been a chair. “What were you doing back there?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . it was stupid.” With my uninjured arm, I reached out and took her hand in mine. Her skin was soft, like the petals of the orchids that used to grow down by the docks. “Thank you. Not just for saving my ass from bleeding to death. For taking care of me.”

  She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, brushing my hair from my eyes with her free hand. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Take care of each other?”

  And it had been that way for as long as I could remember since the wall of fog appeared. But now Caleb was here, and I wondered if Lia might want something romantic with him. It was news to me that she might be interested in anything like that at all, as she’d never mentioned it before. I wasn’t going to tell her how much it bothered me to see the way she looked at Caleb, in a way she’d never looked at me. I couldn’t quite figure out why, if she was interested in something more than friendship, she hadn’t thought of me in that way. She and I were close, compatible, balanced each other perfectly. Was it because I was genderqueer? Did she need someone who identified as male to love? A spiderweb crack spread through my heart. “Listen, Lia. About the way I acted earlier—”

  “Hey, Quinn. Found this on the ground back there. Thought you might want it.” Caleb had entered the room without a sound that I’d noticed, but for his voice. He was standing over me, holding out my bat. I released Lia’s hand and took it from him, laying it on the floor beside me. I didn’t thank him, and I didn’t much care that Lia seemed to expect me to.

  Lia lifted the makeshift bandage from my arm and frowned. For a moment, I felt as if we’d been in these exact positions before—as if she’d tended to my wounds a thousand times—but that wasn’t true. This was the first time . . . wasn’t it? “That cut’s looking pretty nasty, Quinn. We should find some fresh bandages for it. Some antiseptic too, if we can.”

  “I’m fine.” I was lying, and she knew it. So I tried another approach. The last thing I wanted was for Lia to worry about me. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s deep. And it’s getting worse.” One thing I had to give Lia credit for: she didn’t take bullshit lightly. “If you don’t want the infection to spread, you need medical supplies, and you know what that means. I won’t take long, I swear. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

  She had that look on her face—the one that she always got whenever she knew she was about to do something I wouldn’t want her to do. She’d never listened before, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying to keep her safe. “Tell me you’re not thinking about going back to the school.”

  She shook her head as she covered the wound once mo
re with the bandage. “I’m not thinking about it. There’s nothing to think about. This infection could kill you by morning, so waiting until then isn’t an option. I’m going. I’ll be back with the supplies. We need to fix you so you’re nice and strong the next time you decide to do something stupid.”

  “I know what I said earlier about your mo—” Snapping my mouth shut, I met her eyes with an apology. “I know it was a real asshole move, but I only said it to shake some sense into you. It’s dangerous there, Lia. You know that.”

  Her eyes shimmered a bit, but she blinked the tears away before they could fully form—tears that I had caused by bringing up her mom. Again. “Everywhere’s dangerous. We’re in Brume, remember?”

  As if to remind us that he still existed, Caleb said, “I’ll go.”

  “No. No one’s going.” I lifted my head, but immediately laid it down again. The room wasn’t spinning, exactly. It felt more like parts of it were melting and the rest of it had disappeared altogether. “I feel strange.”

  “It’s the fever. Just rest now, okay? Everything will be all right soon. I promise. And when I get back, we can . . .” Lia’s words faded as I sank back into that fiery world of darkness. I floated there for what felt like an eternity. It was less hot this time, and familiar now, so I rode it out and thought about Lloyd and the POPs of blood behind me as I’d run. I’d never forget that sound and the way it had grown louder as the Unseen Hands had closed in on me.

  The dark heat of my fever dreams cooled before I regained full consciousness. Maybe the infection wasn’t as bad as Lia thought. Maybe it was going to pass without anyone taking a chance at running into Coe.

  Warmth touched the left half of my body, but it wasn’t my fever and it wasn’t unpleasant. When the familiar sound of crackling flames reached my ears, I opened my eyes. Across the room crouched Caleb in front of a fireplace, stoking flames within, oblivious to the fact that I’d woken. The growls of Rippers rolled in from the distance. Not distant enough for my tastes. I dragged myself to standing, feeling much more stable than I had before, and picked up my canteen. As I poured water onto the fire, extinguishing it, I shot Caleb a glare. “What are you, stupid? You can’t have a fire going after dark. You might as well ring the Rippers’ dinner bell. Don’t you know anything?”