Page 10 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

T ossed in the turbulent waves, Emmery struggled to keep her chin above water. Her hands clawed for safety, but she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep above the river’s surface. Another wave shoved her down, another, and another—

She cursed herself for never learning to swim. For rushing in. For not thinking.

The edges of her hazy vision tunnelled as light flashed and ripped away with each roll.

She surfaced long enough to gulp air, clinging to it like life itself but the water was everywhere.

It burned, ravaged, consumed, and her bones chilled, yet a flame lit her chest. Her lungs begged for oxygen.

Gasping, she stretched her neck, but it was useless, and the tumultuous waves crashed and yanked her under.

For an infinite moment there was no direction, and she tumbled like a lifeless branch in a hurricane.

A silent scream tore from her throat and water flooded her mouth as silver strands of hair clung to her face, obscured her vision, and she gagged, desperate for one precious breath, but there was only water.

No, no, this couldn’t be happening—

The surface grew further away as exhaustion settled into her limbs. Unable to fight any longer, Emmery squeezed her eyes shut as the depths claimed her.

This was it. Maybe she would soon see Maela.

Death stretched for her.

She reached back.

And her hand settled in His, embracing the eternal night.

The endless sleep of darkness.

She faded in and out of consciousness, sinking, floating, not here or there or anywhere. But it wasn’t Death’s hand that held hers.

It wasn’t Death’s hand that pulled her up, her body slicing through the water like an unstoppable force. Her head breached the surface, the frigid air slapped her face, and by some miracle, her back found purchase on the cold pebbled river shore.

Emmery clawed at her clogged throat and full chest, the tendons straining in her neck like violin strings, veins bulging, but no air came. A force struck her chest. Her ribs bent, threatening to crack, but it struck again. Again.

“Breathe!” a deep voice ordered, faint like it came from the other side of the river. “Come on. Breathe for me.” Softer this time.

Emmery convulsed, her mouth gaping. She couldn’t. But gods, did she try.

Once more, her ribs caved, and water finally lodged from her lungs. She retched, her head spinning as fresh, delicious oxygen flooded her chest. Peeling her unfocused eyes open, she blinked away the tears and river water.

“That’s it. Eyes on me.” The distinct lilt of his speech and elegant cadence to his words was unusual. A cool wisp of wind brushed her hair from her cheek and her gaze slid up.

The person, whatever he was, could only be described as a phantom. Perhaps Death had come to claim her at last. The masculine silhouette, shaped by a black snowy mist, observed her.

His eyes—oh gods, his eyes —were an untainted green amongst the mass of black.

Not hazel, no hint of brown or caramel, but a reflection of the dark-green foliage outside her family cottage.

Or maybe closer to the lemon trees lining the eastern walls; the ones with the nasty thorns she’d often pricked her fingers on.

Those eyes called, or rather, reached into her chest.

Emmery frowned, struggling to right herself.

“You alright?” His voice quieted the roaring in her ears.

Emmery extended a hand, expecting her fingers to pass through, but they met his cheek. Not the texture of skin yet somehow tangible. His hand tentatively caught hers. It was odd in her hold, not quite there, but—

A cough rattled free the remaining water as she searched for her voice. “Strange,” she croaked. Gods, she must be delirious. What kind of lucid dream was this?

The phantom cocked his head. “Do you always insult your rescuers?”

The muddled lines of his hands were so odd. Pulling away she dragged the back of her wrist across her mouth and propped herself up. “I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Here,” he said, offering his hand. With a sigh, she took it, and the phantom pulled her up. Her legs shook like a newborn fawn.

“Um—” she muttered, her stomach somersaulting. “Thank you?”

He nodded in response, humming an agreeable sound. The smooth tenor of his voice, like crushed velvet, made her insides liquify and her cheeks heat. Seeing her reaction, a faint smile tugged at his mouth and not knowing what else to do, she dragged her gaze away.

At some point, the river was replaced by a depthless black, leaving them plunged in thick darkness. Inky ripples surrounded her soggy boots with each step. “Where are we?”

“The space between dreams and nightmares.” The phantom gestured to the vast nothingness. “Between life and death. Some call it the Divide.”

“I—Where?” This was the strangest dream she’d ever had. Why did this space feel real? She searched his eyes for answers, but he merely twitched a brow, the movement barely decipherable. “I’ve never been here before.”

“You have,” he put simply.

Her damp hair framed her face as she shook her head and huffed a laugh. “That’s absurd. I think I would remember if I had. Where did—how did we get here?”

He brushed her hair aside with a single finger, and that strange mist caressed her skin. “I brought you here,” he said, his hand lingering.

Emmery leaned into his touch ... But wait, what was she doing? Shaking her head, she knocked some sense into herself and pulled away. “So, you’ve brought me here before?”

“As much as I can.”

Gods, he was so composed—far too composed as Emmery fidgeted with the sopping wet tunic and trousers hanging off her frame.

But this was a dream. It had to be. There was no other explanation.

Yet her runaway imagination had created someone so animated and impossibly lifelike she even fooled herself.

Her voice wavered as she asked, “How? I—I don’t understand ..."

He strolled forward and motioned for her to follow with a lazy wave of his hand. “You sure are full of questions tonight,” he drawled.

“What do you mean tonight ?” Emmery’s mind raced. “Who are you?”

His steps slowed. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember the next time we meet.”

“Wait.” Emmery caught his wrist, somehow solid, but the sensation was indescribable. “What do you mean I won’t remember?”

The phantom sighed, his eyes fixed where she held him.

“It’s the magic. It won’t allow you to remember.

Every night you forget me.” He didn’t pull away from her grasp and instead stepped toward her, causing Emmery’s stomach to flip.

“It’s all quite confusing. Somehow, I remember you, but you don’t remember me.

We go through this nearly every night.” He studied her with those green eyes as if she was a rare piece of literature.

“But ... this is a dream.” Head spinning, she dropped his wrist. “You’re not real.”

A humourless laugh rumbled in his chest. “I can assure you, I’m real. But this,” he said gesturing to his body, “isn’t what I really look like if you were wondering.”

Emmery cocked her head. “Then tell me what you look like.”

His teasing smile set her blood on fire. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This was too bizarre. Emmery sorted through the information—dream, Divide, won’t remember—and splayed her hand over her scars. “If you’re using magic then you’re like me.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “I’m Kenna, yes.”

“Is this some sort of spell? How are you here?” She sucked in a breath. “And again, who are you?”

The ghost paced, his steps leisurely but deliberate. “I can’t remember where I’m from, my name, what I look like, how all this came to be or even how I got here but—” His gaze fixed on Emmery, his eyes searing her. Setting her alight. “All I know is every night I look for you.”

Her heart throbbed. Because why did that sound romantic? Emmery studied the strange mist surrounding his body like maybe if she stared hard enough, she could discover the man beneath it. “Every night you ... look for me?”

“I don’t always find you.” He stilled and turned to her, his eyes full of an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “But, yes. When I’m here there’s only you and me.”

Emmery took a large step back, because this was too good to be true. “Why?”

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “That’s a question I would also like to know the answer to. All I know is I wake up here and all I can think about, all I can see or feel, is you, Emmery.”

Her heart stilled at the sound of her name on his lips and she couldn’t breathe, her chest full like she was drowning again.

But Emmery managed to choke out, “How do you know my name?”

“How could I forget?” When she retreated again, he gave her a small smile and sighed as he lay his hand over his heart. “Your name lives in here. It’s part of me.”

“But you can’t remember yours? That’s absurd . What do I call you?”

His eyes overflowed with longing, saturating his tone. “Whatever you like. It makes no difference.”

Trying to lighten the heaviness hanging between them, she asked, “How about I call you Shade? Because of this whole—” She gestured to him. “Ghost thing.”

To her relief a deep, carefree laugh burst from him. Gods, that sound—though it was hard to make out amongst the echo—resounded inside her heart.

“Shade it is.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You always pick the same name, Emmery.” His eyes twinkled with wicked delight. “At least you’re consistent.”

Crossing her arms, she replied, “There’s no way to know that. You could be lying.”

He leaned toward her, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I suppose you’ll never know.”

Good gods, why was she staring at his lips? Or at least what she could make out in the shifting mist.

Emmery shook her head, desperate to clear whatever spell he’d cast on her. Was this truly a dream? It seemed real but time raced, each minute equivalent to ten, the seconds ticking by faster than her galloping heart. “How long?”

“How long do we have or how long have we been meeting like this?”

She shrugged. “Well, both, I suppose.”

“I’ve been pulling you from your nightmares for as long as I can remember.

As for how long we have, it depends when you wake or your consciousness shifts.

I’m only a visitor here. You created this space.

You make the rules.” He waved his arm in the darkness.

“Which means you can imagine whatever you want.”

Emmery frowned. “How do I do that?”

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice softening.

“You expect me to close my eyes when you could whisk me off to Dream Murder Land for all I know?”

Shade exhaled a stunted laugh. “If Dream Murder Land existed, it would only be because you created it. But you’re safe here, I assure you.

Just imagine where you want to be. Picture it in your mind as clearly as you can.

It doesn’t even need to be a real place.

” He paused before adding, “If you want me to stay, take my hand. If not, I’ll disappear. ”

Tension bracketed her shoulders because ... did she want him to stay? “It seems rude to send you away after saving me from drowning.”

“Technically, I saved you from dream drowning, but I’ll accept the credit.”

“What do—” Suddenly nervous, she swallowed hard, her eyes skimming his blurred form. “What do we usually do?”

He swept a stray lock of wet hair behind her ear and Emmery shivered, but not from her damp clothes. “Whatever pleases you, Emmery.”

Her cheeks warmed from the way he said that—what did they do in her dreams? And her name in that accent of his had her toes curling in her soggy boots.

Emmery squeezed her eyes shut, dying to at least feel somewhat put together and maybe to escape his seductive stare for a second.

She imagined dry clothes, charcoal tweed trousers tucked into knee high black leather boots, and a green tunic to match his eyes.

When she met his stare once more, her hair was dry and neatly styled into her typical braid. Boring but practical.

Shade eyed her like he wanted to demonstrate exactly what he meant and how he would please her. Not that she would indulge, but the strange desire to sink into him inflated the air between them.

Her arm brushed against his cold mist again, and she frowned. He was there but ... well, not. And that in itself was infuriating.

Emmery’s eyes caressed the muddied contours of his body. “Can you feel me?” she asked a little hesitantly, not sure what she wanted his answer to be.

The corner of his mouth pulled up as if he could see where her thoughts were headed. “I can but it’s like holding someone through a thick blanket. I know you’re there and I feel your weight but it’s ...” He searched for the word. “Obstructed. Distorted.”

She supposed that answered enough of her query about his intentions and what they did in this space. Because if they couldn’t feel one another, what was the point?

Eyes locked, they stood together in the inky darkness, the silent air settling a calmness in her chest. Could she really imagine anywhere? Anything? And did she want this strange man with her?

Emmery had never given much thought to where she would escape to if she could be anywhere in the world, besides beyond the gate, though she had no clue where to begin imagining what that looked like. “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

Shade gave her a wistful smile. “I want to be wherever you are.” The genuine sweetness in his tone caught her off guard.

But he remembered her even if she didn’t so maybe this unexplained connection made sense.

Maybe it was okay that it felt right. And what memories did he have that she couldn’t recall?

She wanted to know everything. Every minute detail of their time together.

“If I don’t send you away, will you tell me everything? About all the other nights.”

He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “As you wish.”

Emmery’s eyes fluttered closed, and she pictured a cloudless night sky, the stars winking at them as they laid out in a garden, white tenting draped overhead, the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain drumming against it.

Covering the ground the dark plum-coloured roses, found only in her dreams, bloomed in the moonlight.

Emmery searched for his hand before finishing the image and her fingers clasped his, tangling together as he claimed their paths had countless nights, and she clung to his strange, somehow familiar comfort.