Sapphire Bones

Embers

"You have a right to be angry, you know," Roddy said. "You were left as the only known survivor. We should have assumed-,"

"You couldn't have assumed anything," I shook my head and brought my hands back to my chest, satisfied with the heat running through my veins. Whatever was left of the ocean water on my clothes was drying but my hair still dripped in loose strands around my face. The scratchy cotton sheath didn't stick to my hips as much and allowed my chest to breathe.

"We should have," he argued back.

A silence fell between the three of us and the bickering flames. That and the soft howls of the wind were the music that kept my spirit at the back of my throat instead of in the pit of my stomach. Another pitfall and there wouldn't be anything left. A shell of a girl I used to be. I guess one could argue that happened years ago; Peter scraped my insides out with a knife until he hit hard skeleton, and then dug further into the marrow.

"Where are we?" I asked suddenly. My voice broke a slit through the quiet barrier. Roddy coughed from across the fire but it wasn't a signaling cough but a cold one.

"Somewhere on the east coast," Cole said for his partner. "We're hoping to get moving in the morning and make it down to Massachusetts by the evening." He sounded too matter-of-fact like he'd done this before. Escaped from the government under the cover of the night only to travel by the line of the ocean in his peripheral.

"How?" I couldn't help the questions pouring from my mouth. They were like vomit; it was better to get it out than to hold it in and hope you have enough courage to swallow.

"Go through a couple of towns. Grab a car, maybe, if the opportunity arises, but travel with our wolves for most of it. We need to stay out of sight until the search parties dwindle," Cole continued.

"Search parties?"

"The Council probably believes we're all dead so they're going to be looking for bodies near the coast but we need to be careful just in case one of them catches a scent." I felt Cole's eyes at the back of my head. They burned a hole straight through my fluttering eyelids and into my brain. I kept my eyes on the blazing flames. The wind calmed down into a subtle breeze pumping between the trees the scents of the salty ocean and spring pollen whishing from newly awoken trees.

"My scent is back," I noted, mostly for myself but I allowed for Cole and Roddy both to hear it. "Will they be able to track it?"

"With the right people, yes, but most of the Council is dealing with the – erm," Roddy started but couldn't finish his sentence. He wavered off, hoping someone else grabbed onto the fragment dangling between the three of us. When Cole didn't speak up, Roddy was forced to finish, "the fallout of your-," he struggled again.

"Botched execution," Cole cut him off.

I furrowed my brows. The last thing I remembered was dropping to my knees in front of the guillotine. After that my memory blanked into a black swirly void of nothingness. A chalkboard with erasure marks, chalk dust circulating in front of it. Taunting. I managed to somehow escape but I never stopped to ask how. I figured it didn't matter if Margette followed the plan: escape and jump off the cliff. They'll think I was dead.

"W-what?" I choked out.

"You know," Roddy urged as if I'd suddenly remember something but my memory was an empty wastebasket freshly cleaned. "Jeffries, the councilman,"

"What about him? He was there, I know that." I combed through my memories hoping Margette left me with something but to no avail. Instead, an empty shelf faced me at the cache in my head.

The familiar silence picked up again, but this time it didn't linger for long. Cole cleared his throat and scooted himself closer to me. I couldn't bring myself to move away. He hadn't harmed me yet – kept me from harming myself for that matter. He could be trusted. For now.

"Do you really not remember?" Cole nudged me with his shoulder. I rocked back and forth weakly and bobbed my head to the side.

"No-," I started.

"You killed Jeffries," Roddy perked up.

"Rod," Cole growled but the other didn't listen.

Killed.

"What?" I coughed, standing. "I didn't kill anyone!"

The accusations were coming back. Piling onto my shoulders one by one until I collapsed.

"L you killed Jeffries up on the stage. Do you really not remember that?" Roddy added even after a disgruntled snarl from his partner.

"Rod stop," Cole repeated. He turned his attention back to me, a hand pressed to my shoulder in comfort. Pressure on a weak spot on my body; a place Peter touched many times prior but this hand wasn't venomous. It wouldn't suck the life force out of me with a single thrust. No – this one was genuinely supportive. "Do you really not remember anything?" He asked after his partner quieted and submitted to his order.

"No," I said with a frown.

They explained it to me. Cole did most of the talking but Roddy jumped in occasionally to help him out. Every single detail of the botched execution relived through their words. I hadn't lived it. Margette did. She killed Jeffries with the blade of the guillotine inscribed with my name. She spoke words of mutiny against the Council through my lips. Jeffries' severed head rolling off the stage and landing amongst a crowd of silent onlookers. Their hunger hadn't been satisfied, only worsened. They watched Margette feed off the death of one of the most dangerous councilmen known to the east coast. Jeffries wasn't supposed to be the one to die. After they finished explaining the last several hours I mentioned Margette and how she took control of my head sometimes and blocked me out. I added that she was sent by whatever God existed up in the clouds for us, that she had been helping me all along. Both listened intently with quick nods whenever I explained something after the need for clarification. There weren't many questions though. Only one:

"Where did she go?" Roddy asked after I finished my monologue.

"She never told me," I shrugged. "Back in the clouds, I suppose." There wasn't a better answer to give. Partially because I didn't know, and partially because Margette was the first thing in the last decade of my life to give me hope. I wasn't about to curse her because of what she did for me. Yeah, she killed him, but I wish I could have been conscious when he lost his head. I wish I could have seen the axe fall upon the back of his neck and sever each artery, and get stuck on his spine but only for a moment as gravity continued its job. A fountain of blood cascading off a wooden stage. What the audience wanted, just with the wrong victim. I smiled. When Cole described what happened I couldn't help but picture Jeffries in my head. Pleading for his life even if that's not what happened. Hoping I (Margette) would spare him.

After a while I looked back up at the bright figures in front of me. Their focus hadn't wavered since the conversation started. "Good," I grinned long and broad, teeth showing. "I'm glad he's dead."

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Hey, 

I am so sorry for the gaps between chapters. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things but I've been so busy and unfocused and stressed that my writing is suffering. But I'm making an effort to take time to write every day. 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and while I know its kind of a filler I promise it'll get juicy soon. Don't lose faith in me yet!

QOC: Why do you think L has had such a change in heart and become so aggressive with hearing about other deaths? 

Do you think the council will find them? 

Comment, like, and follow! I appreciate all the comments so far. I love reading and responding to them. 

Much love, 

-Kate

Currently Reading: The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson