Page 18

Redefining Normal

W e don’t stop until the sun is low in the sky, and I’m drooping in the saddle. I thought I was tough, but clearly eight-hour shifts at the restaurant did not prepare me for this. Finally, Khaosti pulls to a halt in the lee of a small hill. A stream runs past it, and there’s a grassy bank for the horses to eat.

“This is as good as anywhere,” he says, swinging out of the saddle. He looks as fresh and perky as when we set off. Behind me, Zayne groans as he eases himself down. I just sit there for long minutes, staring at the ground, which looks a long way off. I’m not sure my legs will still work.

Khaosti’s horse is already unsaddled and rolling in the grass, and I suppose I should get off, if only for Stella’s sake. I lower myself slowly to the ground, then rest my forehead against her warm, sweaty shoulder. She nickers, and I force myself to stand up straight. Everything works.

My mind goes blank, and I work on automatic pilot as I untack her, dropping the heavy saddle and bags on the ground, then slipping the bridle over her head. This is something I’ve clearly done before. I wonder if she’ll just wander off and I’ll never see her again, but she heads toward the other horses, rolls, rubbing the sweat of the day from her skin, then puts her head down and grazes.

My stomach rumbles.

I look around and wonder what to do next. I’ve never been camping before. I don’t think Lissa and Pete ever take holidays. They certainly didn’t take us kids camping. That would have been seriously scary.

Shouldn’t we have tents or something? I mean, sleeping under the stars might sound romantic—I glance at Khaos as the thought crosses my mind—and think nope, not going to happen. I shift my attention to Zayne and find him watching me with narrowed eyes. His gaze moves to Khaosti, and his lower lip juts out, the way it does when he’s pissed off.

Anyway, this situation is so not romantic, and when you factor in the potential for scary monster attacks—a shudder runs through me as an image of red eyes flashes in my mind—never mind serenading wolves. I’d really like something between me and the elements. But really, what sort of tent would keep monsters out?

“We need firewood,” Khaosti announces, breaking into my not-so-happy thoughts.

A fire sounds like a good idea in some ways. The temperature is dropping as the sun goes down.

“I’ll go,” Zayne says, already walking away.

“I’ll go with you.” I hurry after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. I know he can be moody, but I wish he would talk to me, tell me what’s bothering him—well, apart from the obvious. He’s heading toward a small copse of trees, the only ones in sight. I fall into step beside him, reach out, and touch his arm. He flinches.

“Talk to me, Zayne.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Grumpy bastard. “I get it. This is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be back home right now. But at the same time, it’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for those things to come after me.” A sense of indignation rises up in me. “In fact, I didn’t ask for any of this. All I ever wanted was to be normal and—”

Zayne snorts, and I turn and glare at him.

“You were never going to be normal, Princess.”

“Yeah. I’m a freak.” I can hear the bitterness in my own voice.

“Maybe.” He sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “But I guess you’re not the only one. Not anymore, anyway.”

“What has Khaosti told you?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He stops and turns to face me—the anger has drained from his eyes. “I’m not angry with you, Amber. Well, at least not about this.” What does he mean by that? Before I can ask, he continues, “But I need to think things through, get my head straight before I can talk about it.”

I search his face and then give a slow nod. “Okay. But don’t shut me out. We need to stick together.”

“Why? Because we’ve been transported to a whole different fucking world, filled with fucking scary monsters?”

“Yeah,” I say. “And we have no clue where we’re going or why, or what we’ll find when we get there. But I suspect nothing good.”

“And we’re following some guy who I don’t fucking trust one fucking inch.”

I glance back at our makeshift campsite and find Khaos staring at me. No, I don’t trust him either. But I think right now, we both want the same thing: to find the Crone and discover what she knows about me and about Khaosti’s brother.

The sun is almost gone now, just a red glow on the horizon. A shiver courses through me. “Let’s get the wood.”

We work in silence after that. There’s plenty of dry wood on the ground below the trees. Zayne piles it into my arms, and I head back while he collects another load. Back at the campsite, I drop it on the ground. I hope Khaosti doesn’t expect me to start a fire because I have no clue how. But he doesn’t say anything—just busies himself snapping some of the wood into smaller pieces. Within minutes, a small fire is blazing. Looks like Khaosti might have been a boy scout. Somehow, though, I can’t see it.

Zayne comes back, and I make myself scarce to take care of a pressing need. Then I wash my hands and splash my face in the stream. When I get back, there’s a pot bubbling on the fire, and the smell of stew fills the air—I presume provisions from the resourceful Brown.

I investigate the contents of my saddlebag and find a small rolled-up blanket and a parcel of food, bread and cheese. Ugh. I don’t have a toothbrush.

I spread out the blanket in front of my saddle, then lower myself to the ground and lean back against the warm leather with a groan. I stare into the flickering flames. Night has fallen like a dark tide, washing away the last remnants of daylight. We’re surrounded by darkness now, though a few stars are popping out in the night sky. I don’t sense anything bad close by, and I relax, my shoulders drooping. It’s been a busy couple of days.

“Amber, the food is ready.”

I open my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. Zayne stands in front of me, a bowl in his hand, and I reach out and take it. My appetite seems to have vanished, but I breathe in the savory scent and pick up the spoon. The food tastes good, and I shovel it into my mouth. Zayne sits down close by. He lobs me a bread roll, and I dip it in the stew and eat. With each mouthful, I can feel my strength returning. I empty the bowl and look hopefully at the fire. I meet Khaosti’s gaze across the flames. He’s watching me again.

“There’s more,” he says.

I push myself up and refill the bowl. I eat slower this time, and when I’m finished, I sit back and exhale, feeling the tightness ease out of my muscles. I hadn’t realized I was so tense; it had been part of me for the past few days.

“That was good,” I say. I look around, peering beyond our little patch of light. “Will we be all right here?” I ask.

Khaosti replies, “I think so. At least nothing followed us from the house.”

“Good.” Though I’m still not sure I’ll be able to sleep out here. “So is this where you come from?” I ask Khaosti.

“No.”

It seems chatty Khaos of the night before has vanished. I consider getting up and punching him on the nose, but I don’t have the energy. “Is it where I come from?”

Another shrug. “Who knows?”

I walked into that one. But I’m not ready to give up yet. “Does anyone actually live here? Aside from Brown, I mean.” And hopefully this Thanouq. We saw no one all day. No signs of any towns or even villages. I did see one or two houses in the distance, but no actual signs of life.

“Yes. But farther from the mirror. This land was decimated in the early years of the war.”

“The war with Lucifer?”

He nods. “We’ll probably see some people tomorrow.” He studies me, eyes narrowed, as if he isn’t impressed by what he sees. “If we do, don’t say anything.”

Zayne snorts. He’s been so quiet, I thought he’d fallen asleep. But his eyes are open, and he’s watching me.

I suppose I should try to sleep; tomorrow promises to be as tough as today. But I have one more question. “What about this person we’re supposed to be finding—Thanouq? Am I allowed to talk to him?”

“No.”

With that, he lies back on his blanket, puts his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes. I guess that’s the end of conversation for the night. It wasn’t very interesting anyway. I lie back myself, wrapping the blanket around me and closing my eyes. I suspect the chances of actually sleeping are low. I listen to the noises around me, the wind rustling the trees nearby. There’s no sign of anything else alive except us and the horses grazing nearby. Stella wickers softly as though to let me know we’re not alone. The ground is hard, and I roll onto my side. And that’s the last thing I remember.

Until something wakes me.

I’m not sure what, and I lie huddled in the darkness, the blanket over my head. Something groans somewhere close by. For a second, I freeze, then I force myself to peer out. There are two moons in the sky, and it’s lighter than earlier. The groan comes again, and I glance across to where Zayne is sleeping close by me.

He’s tossing and turning.

“Zayne?”

I get no answer. He’s clearly asleep but in the throes of some nightmare. He’s flung off his blanket.

“Zayne,” I say, louder this time, but to no effect. I glance across to where Khaosti was sleeping, but he’s gone.

I cast off my own blanket and scramble the small distance between us. Zayne is sprawled on his back, but as I get close, his spine arches, rising off the ground, and the groan turns almost feral. It must be some nightmare. I reach out my hand and touch his shoulder.

His eyes flash open, and I let out a gasp, then lurch back, falling on my ass in my haste to get away.

What the freaking fuck?

“Holy shit.”

His eyes are… not Zayne’s. Instead, they’re black with yellow slits, like a snake or a lizard. I swallow the scream that’s threatening to explode out of my throat.

“Zayne?” My voice comes out almost as a whisper, but it’s enough to attract his attention. His head turns slowly in my direction, and he fixes me with a blank stare from those weird, bad-ass eyes. His nostrils flare as though he’s scenting me.

“Zayne!” I shout this time, as though I can break through whatever is happening to him and get my Zayne back. His head jerks. Then hands grip my shoulders, and I’m being hauled away from Zayne, pulled back against Khaosti’s hard chest. For a second, I struggle, but then I go limp in his arms.

I keep my gaze fixed on Zayne. A frown flashes across his face, and then he shakes his head. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, the nightmare is gone, and Zayne is back. His gray eyes widen as they take in the two of us. “What happened?”

I lick my lips. “Your eyes. They changed.”

He glances from me to Khaosti, behind me. “Is that normal?”

I want to scream that of course it’s not normal. How could it possibly be normal? But I realize his question is for Khaosti, not me. Obviously, whatever is happening to Zayne has redefined his definition of normal. I wait for the answer.

“It’s sooner than I expected. But nothing to worry about.”

Is he crazy? Nothing to goddamn worry about? “I’m worried,” I snap. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” I’m still held against Khaosti’s hard body, so close I can feel the heat of his skin through my clothes. His arm is splayed across my stomach, and part of me wants to stay exactly where I am because it feels so good. But now is not the time. In fact, the way I’m feeling right now, it may never be the time. I twist out of his hold, then put some distance between us before turning to face them both, hands on my hips. Like I mean business. Like I want some answers.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” I say again and turn the full force of my glare on Khaosti. “And by someone, I mean you. Why did his eyes change like that?”

For a few seconds, I think he’s not going to answer. Then he shrugs. “He’s a shifter. It’s a side effect of being bitten by the shadowguard.”

“You mean he’ll be like you? He’ll be able to change into a wolf?”

That doesn’t seem too bad. It’s sort of cool, in fact. But there’s something not quite right. Because Zayne’s eyes did not look like they belonged to a wolf.

I cast a glance at Zayne to see how he’s taking this, but he looks resigned more than anything. I’m guessing this is not news to him. It’s presumably what Khaosti told him last night. But he’s also watching Khaosti, waiting for the answer, so I’m guessing he doesn’t know enough yet.

“No, not a wolf,” Khaosti says.

“Then what?”

“He’s a basilisk.”