A gust of chilling wind blew hard, kicking up the fallen snow as it rushed past. The wind was bad enough, but when it pelted me with snow I couldn’t stop shivering. Glancing at Eric, I asked, “She didn’t die? What happened to her?”
He nodded, his eyes darting toward Jenna Marie’s tent. The question was on my face, about to be asked when he replied, “The Dreanok scarred her. It didn’t heal. I don’t know why.”
Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself. I stared at Eric for a moment. It was odd that he was the one here to welcome me back. It was strange that his were the arms to catch me and hold me. His amber gaze locked on mine as we stood there, in the frozen air, gazing at each other. I didn’t know what to say. And I was afraid to ask what I wanted to know. Did he sacrifice Shannon so we could get away? I broke the gaze and glanced away, rubbing my arms.
“We better go in,” I said, turning to follow Jenna Marie.
Eric’s hand shot out and grabbed me, spinning me around and into his arms. He was warm and I was so cold. I didn’t look up into his face until he spoke, “I didn’t make her do that. Shannon moved of her own accord. If Kreturus was trying to kill me, it is possible bloodlust would have made her move. But nothing but her own desire saved you.” His fingers tangled in my hair as I looked up at him. The words he spoke made me feel crazy. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. Shannon had already been dead to me. She betrayed me. But I couldn’t accept it. And when I finally did, she sacrificed herself for me. Eric spoke, breaking my thoughts, “You realized that Collin was there the night Apryl died. You realized it before now, didn’t you?”
I pulled away, my jaw hanging open. I wanted to say yes, but my expression clearly said no. Eric’s gaze rested lazily on my face, watching. Waiting. When I spoke, I didn’t answer him. Instead I asked, “Where is he?”
“He didn’t think you’d want to see him. Plus his origin is questionable, so they wouldn’t let him into the camp.” Eric saw my face light up with fury. What did he mean questionable? Collin was like me. None of us were Valefar. As I started to growl a retort, Eric reached out and grabbed my lower lip so I couldn’t speak. Irritated, I tried to pull away, but he held it, jerking me closer to his face. “You think I care what he is? Or what you are for that matter?” he released my lip. I didn’t move. I just stared at him.
“What do you mean?” Warm breath slid out of his mouth. He was so close to me. The anger that was trademark Eric was gone. Or I was looking past it. I wasn’t sure.
“At one point it mattered, and now it doesn’t.” His tone suggested a finality, ending the conversation, but I didn’t understand. He turned to walk inside.
Tugging his arm, I yanked him back around, “Wait.” Eric stopped, looking down at me with an expression that was unreadable. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
Eric’s gaze lingered on my lips while I spoke. Then he replied, “Ah, but I think you do.” Leaning closer, he pressed his lips next to my ear. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but thought better of it and snapped it shut. As my mouth opened to ask him what he was going to say, he pressed his lips gently to mine, and pulled away quickly, grinning slyly. “You ask too many questions.”
Eric walked away from me and into the tent. The flap closed behind him, leaving me alone in the night. This was the first time I was alone, truly by myself, in a long time. Not caring about the cold, I sank to the ground and closed my eyes. The wind caressed my face as it screamed, racing by. My gown absorbed the snow, slowly making the fabric damp before it froze, clinging to my body in sheet of ice. No one came out to look for me. I don’t know how much time passed, but when I rose, every inch of me was soaked. A thin layer of ice had formed on my skin. I had too many decisions to make, and no time left.
As I sat there, feeling the whip of the wind tugging at my hair, and blistering across my cheek, I decided something. It would dictate how I lived the rest of my life, whether that would be a matter of hours or centuries. I felt content when I rose—content with who I was and what I would do. I would not sit idly by. Not anymore. The remaining decisions to be made were mine. And no one was taking that away from me.
Jenna Marie fussed at me for staying outside so long, but it was with less perk than usual. As I watched her move, it was like she was deflated or something. I didn’t understand how she could be so vane. How could she allow a scar to alter her so drastically? For a moment I thought I was a hypocrite, but the Dreanok’s scar and my mark weren’t the same thing. My mangled Martis mark threw me onto a crash course of suckage and marred my skin. She just had a complexion issue. As I tugged on a pair of her sneakers, and was bent over tying the laces, I glanced up at her. Her hair hung down both cheeks, completely flat against her skull. She did her best to hide the scar, but I saw it as I finished tying my shoe and looked up. The gash started on her cheek and went back into her hairline where it thickened, and disappeared. My stomach twisted, as I sat up. The damage was more than that, although I didn’t know what. I hid my reaction, not wanting to bring attention to it. She seemed like she was doing okay, now that she had found us again.
Jenna Marie sat next to me. Eric was across from me, and Collin was glaringly absent. I didn’t fight with them about letting him into the camp. I just hoped I could find him again. I had no idea where he might have gone. Eric continued arguing with Jenna Marie.
He was back to his jack-ass self, snapping “If the dragon was the Omen,” he mocked in her voice, “Are you insane? If? The Omen was something angels told demons to scare the shit out of them. It’s not real. It never was.”
She snorted, “Yes, and we all know that you only believe in the things that are right in front of your face.” Eric sneered at her. “It makes sense. If Kreturus paused as you said, when the Omen appeared, it makes perfect sense.”
Eric leaned forward, his fingers resembling claws as he shook his hands at her, half wanting to strangle her, “It’s a fucking dragon, not the Omen! It has scales, breathes fire, flies like a deranged cow with wings. If it was the Omen—the one you and I heard of when we were kids—then there’s no way Ivy and I would still be alive.” He leaned back, arching one eyebrow at her, as if to say, there, I told you so.
“You only think with your head, Eric...,” Jenna Marie retorted, but was cut off before she could finish. Titling her head to the side, she took a deep breath through her nose, listening to Eric berate her intelligence before she continued, “Think with your heart. You know it’s the Omen. You know it makes sense. It’s the only explanation. It followed her in the Underworld. It protected her from the Demon King. The Omen is messing with Kreturus. For some reason, the Omen has marked him.”
Eric shook his head, “No, if we go with your fucked up reasoning, then the Omen has selected Ivy—not Kreturus.” He continued to rant, but I cut him off.
“If one of you doesn’t fill me in on the Omen and what it is, I’m going to bitch-slap the both of you.” I glanced at Jenna Marie. Her brow wrinkled in distaste as Eric laughed. “Let’s assume the Omen is real for a moment,” Eric started to speak, but I cut him off, “Yes, I know you think it’s moronic. I got that. But I need to know what it is, because it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. Do you understand? Kreturus thinks the Omen is real, so we need to act like it is.” I stared at Eric, daring him to challenge me, but he remained silent. I turned to Jenna Marie as she spoke.
“The Omen is an ancient creature—like angels or demons—but it kept to itself for so long, belief in its existence slipped. The only place that I’ve ever heard it mentioned was in ancient fables angels used to tell their kids.” She smiled at Eric, but he didn’t seem to appreciate it.
“Angels have kids?” I couldn’t help it. I didn’t realize that was even possible.
Jenna Marie arched an eyebrow at me, as Eric exhaled loudly and rubbed his hands into his hair. “Focus, Ivy,” she snapped. I think I liked her better when she was perky. “The Omen was reduced to a myth, which is what Eric so clearly thinks. The fables claim that if the Omen crossed your path, destruction would soon overshadow your life.”
“And if the Omen touched you? What then?” I asked, eager and nervous to hear the answer.
Her pink lips smiled softly, “Ah, he mentioned that, did he? Kreturus didn’t want you if the Omen had touched you. He believes the touch of the Omen is tantamount to certain death and devastation. Since the beast touched you, he thought it was better to kill you and take what power you have now. Did he talk about it? Did Kreturus say anything about the Omen before it flew in and rescued you?”
I glanced at Eric. Although he didn’t act like it, he was listening, “Yes. I saw it down the street. Kreturus took me to a house where he showed me the Thirteenth Prophecy. Kreturus has it. It was a cup—a carved chalice. He was going to make a blood bargain with me, when I saw the dragon looming on a roof top down the street. I felt like it was watching me.” I no longer glanced at either of them. They didn’t understand my connection to the creature. Neither did I. “Anyway, Kreturus saw it. He said it was a bad sign.” I continued to retell the rest of the story. When I finished, I twisted my fingers together in my lap, staring at my hands.
Eric’s palm gripped my entwined fingers and squeezed, making me look up into his face, “He has the prophecy?” I nodded. He sat next to me. “What did it show?” His voice was soft. Softer than I’ve heard it since before I drank his soul. It sounded something like hope—hope that was false—hope that would shatter as soon as I told him.
Jenna Marie’s eyes burned into the side of my face, but she didn’t speak. I pressed my lips together. “The prophecy rests in my hands. There was, fighting, demons slaying angels, ripping off their wings.” Jenna Marie flinched, but Eric just continued to stare at me as I continued, “The Underworld, Earth, and the heavens were all colliding. It was as if whatever lines separated their creatures were erased.”
Eric shifted slightly. “And what did you look like, Ivy? What were you doing in the prophecy?” Eric asked eagerly. But his question made me blush. I felt the heat sear my cheeks, as I looked away. But he twisted my shoulders back toward him.
I tried to shake him off. I couldn’t tell what I was doing in the prophecy. Kreturus thought it was one thing—that I was commanding the destruction—but that didn’t feel right. So what was I doing?
“Get off!” I tried to twist away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Tell me,” his voice was low, commanding. Something rippled inside of me. Suddenly I wanted to press my body against his. Feel his skin, his lips pressed to my body and taste him.
My eyelids lowered slowly, forcing the seduction of the blood lust away. When he exhaled, I could feel his breath slide across my skin. It was everything I could do to stifle a moan. My fist flew, attempting to collide with his cheek, but he caught my wrist and held it tight. Eric commanded, “Tell me. Say it.” More seduction. More compulsion to spill what I’d seen, but I couldn’t.
