Page 40 of The Bleeding Woods

My Clara’s ingratitude is trying my patience.

Joey may have perished under pettier circumstances, but Jade deserved to die.

Her parasitic hold on Clara was unfair, and I did the right thing by cutting their connective cord.

I was protecting her. I had her best interests in mind, and I even extended a kindness to Jade that I seldom extend.

I let her demise come quickly. Some level of punishment was in order, but I refrained from overdoing it.

Now is not the time to dwell, I remind myself.

I need to save her—my love, my Clara.

I race through the shadows in time-loosened seconds.

Each feels longer than the last. The vehicle that brought my sweet girl to me comes into view, but it is accelerating at a dangerously high speed toward the edge of oblivion.

The place where air becomes solid, where matter becomes too dense for each particle of me to pass through.

I reach out for the rear wheels, knowing just one graze would be enough to shred them, but they spin on.

They leave trails of smoke, gravel, and dirt in their wake.

The Hummer cuts through the world like a merciless blade.

It passes over the threshold with a mighty boom of complete and utter silence. All in one terrible moment, my Clara disappears beyond my reach.

I press my hands to the barrier between us, watching as a stream of uncanny iridescence appears around them like ripples around a raindrop. This cruel beauty reminds me that I am still a prisoner. I am still their prisoner.

Gritting my teeth, I expel waves of power against it. Slowly, the iridescence shifts in hue until it is entirely red. My red. While my dominance over it does not last for long, it serves its purpose. My cruel beauty reminds it, and whoever placed it here, that I cannot be contained forever.

Hours pass. I spend them willing the wall to fissure in my favor, to allow for even the smallest rift to form.

It’s irresponsible of me, but I waste most of Jade’s energy gazing at the horizon Clara disappeared over, hoping for a sign of progress in my escape.

Slowly but surely, I revert to the easiest form I can maintain and slump to the ground to stew in my failure.

When my back is pressed to the barrier, the ripples of restrictive light become larger.

They send writhing rays across the asphalt road.

Night falls, and for the first time in a very long time, sleep steals me from my tears.

I dream of nothing but her. I dream of her eyes, beautiful in their spellbound state and spellbinding when freed.

I dream of her voice, more alluring than the curated orchestra of sounds I’ve conducted in these woods.

I dream of her essence, that gloriously unique energy that ascends above the constraints of her flesh.

It intoxicated me with unrelenting vigor, which explains the withdrawal I’m experiencing now.

I dream of the life we could have, the life we should have.

Connection is something I never dared to deserve, but connecting with Clara has changed that.

It’s become something I crave, something even more enthralling than the purpose I’ve assigned my soul to.

Of course I still want to bleed the earth dry of its human disease, but what worth is domination without a fellow monarch at my side?

What good is all-consuming superiority without at least one true equal?

At sunrise, I move toward the southern border. Foolish hope assures me another car must have stopped for gas and decades-old potato chips. I’ll get more blood roses. I’ll make myself strong enough to break through the barrier. I’ll make the impossible possible. I’ll—

Clara’s voice reverberates through the fallen leaves.

It bounces off every wooded surface, granite edge, and grainy speck of dirt.

It races down the asphalt strip like a sound wave down a violin’s string.

Everything sensible within screams that it is an illusion, but her energy touches me in a way that suggests it is far more than just an imprint felt through phantom pain.

She is here; she’s returned to me.

Yet she is still beside Grayson, and she is speaking only to him. Heartache strums the cords of her voice.

“Your mom told me you were an agent since we were kids. She told me it was all an act, all part of some plan.”

Grayson shifts his weight from foot to foot, visibly uncomfortable, squirming in his skin. “We can’t talk about this now, Clara. He could be listening.”

Guilty.

When Clara lowers her gaze to the ground, he shifts once more, shoving both hands into his pockets. The frown he wears is vague. Regret illuminates his eyes. “You had to be monitored for . . . obvious reasons and manipulated for complicated ones. I didn’t get a say in it, but for what it’s worth—”

“You could have said something.” Before he can take a step farther, she places herself between him and the rest of the forest. Her fingernail elongates sharply as she drives it into his sternum. “You had a choice, Grayson. You said it yourself; it’s all about choice.”

He grabs her hand but keeps it close to his chest. I can only assume his heartbeat is far slower than mine, considering the way their proximity is urging my blood to sublimate. “Please, Clara. We can’t do this here, but I promise, as soon as it’s all over—”

She clamps her free hand over his lips, silencing him. It seems there’s something hanging unspoken in the air, something neither of them wants me to hear. “I would have helped,” she says, her words withered to a whisper. “I would have helped if you asked. They didn’t have to die.”

“I know . . .” His voice drops in octave and in volume. “I know.”

They step in perfect alignment with one another, close enough to let their fingertips touch.

They never entwine, but they touch. Their intimate, secretive cloud is mephitic, and I have had enough of it.

I slink behind them, making certain that I am unseen and unheard.

The whispers I send to Clara and Clara alone will draw her precisely where I need her to be. I release them in the sweetest breeze.

They meet a wall of thorns. Only small gaps exist between the vines encasing her mind.

Through them, I can see only glimpses of her.

I can feel only the featherlight touches of her faraway thoughts.

Distant as they are, they still emit undeniable intentions.

She isn’t here to love me. She is here to kill me.

Thorns pierce through to my innermost heart, a heart I’d made vulnerable only for her.