I stare at the boiler shadow. All the new info seems to float just above my head like the butterflies from my dreams. As each piece of the puzzle nestles into place and I'm able to see the picture in front of me, Rave's words seem to stab into the marks behind my ear:
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I think back over the past four months: all the things I've learned; challenges I've faced; secrets I've uncovered; new things I've experienced—making friends; losing them; flashing; blazing; shifting; healing; kissing; loving; I can see all of it there in the shadow Reign just used to vanish from my life.
I walk over and stand in it, spinning around and examining it from different angles in attempt to make sense of things. I lay my palm against the metal of giant water heater, marveling that something cool to the touch on the outside could contain something so hot it boils. This has to be true of Reign too. It has to be. I know the guy that let me snot all over his button-down in the woods is boiling beneath the cold exterior of the guy who just departed through this shadow. Roman did say he'd make sure Reign stays away from me....
But then again, Reign was playing me; he said it was "done", but he didn't say when it ended.
Warring emotional cyclones whip around inside my head and chest, but right now, the one that spins the fastest is rage, because the truth of the matter is, as much as I despise Reign Patos, and as betrayed as I feel right now, he was as just as much a pawn in Mauro's little game as I was. I'm furious about Mauro pulling my strings and dancing me around like a marionette, but the fact that he played Reign and me against each other royally pisses me off.
Walking to the heavy exit door as Reign suggested, I shove my way back out into the crisp afternoon. As my eyes adjust to the daylight, I shield them with my hand and look around to figure out where I am. An empty parking lot stretches out in front of me. When I spot a bike rack with my bike neatly tucked inside at the opposite end of the lot—so he implies he never cared about me, but hand delivers my bike from the park... makes perfect sense, right?—I shake my head: somewhere no one would look for us on a Saturday? Our high school's boiler room.
I look over my shoulder at the door I just exited, and the conversation that took place on the other side replays in my head; I want to make someone pay. Yes, I conceded and will likely never find the weapon that can defeat the Shadows. But I'm going to find Mauro.
And I'm going to kill him.
I may not be able to eliminate them all, but if I can make sure he never occupies a position of authority, Cocoa Falls will be a much better place—even if I die in the process.
At this point, I've got nothing to lose.
********************
My face goes numb from the constant rush of cold air, but my legs are on fire by the time I climb off my bike and conceal it in the bushes outside the gate to the cemetery. I doubt Mauro is even in The Crypt, but I figure that's the best place to begin the search for him; maybe I can even summon him from inside.
I cross the cemetery and walk straight into the upper structure. I don't glow, of course; but it turns out, I don't need to.
I can see in the dark.
I can see the fissures in the walls and the wild earth sprouting up from the cracks in the marble floor and the small colony of bats hanging in silent slumber just a couple feet above my head. I can see the opening to the staircase, and when I reach the top of it, I can see all the way to the bottom. As I descend, I can see the random shoots of varying shades of grey that make up the jagged pattern in the black marble of the downward sloping walls, and I can see the sharp edge of each stair.
But none of that compares to The Crypt itself. In the pitch black, I can see that the walls climb up, up, up and form an arched ceiling, that the obsidian pillars are really just there for decoration because they end in flat tops long before they could possibly reach the top. I can see the hundred or so perfectly square holes in the wall, each containing a simple, but unique, black marble sarcophagus. And I can see that the walkway running down the center of The Crypt leads to a raised platform, and that on that platform sits a black marble mammoth of seat that is more throne-like than any chair I've ever seen, but isn't quite what I picture when I hear the word "throne".
I see all of this without sight because I can see in the pitch dark.
I also see that no one's home, but hopefully there's some kind of magical call system down here.
"MAURO!" My voice echoes back to me ten times over. "WHERE ARE YOU?"
"There's no need to shout child. We're in an enclosed space, for dark's sake." A rich male voice comes at me from all sides; I know I've heard it before, but the way it echoes through the darkness is so disorienting, I can't place it. I spin around in search of the speaker and almost lose my balance.
"Careful, sweetheart," comes the voice again. "We can't have you getting hurt down here. Now come on to the end of the walkway."
Against my will, my feet lead me down the walkway as instructed.
"That's a good girl," he coos, like I'm some sort of obedient puppy.
I try to move backward, but it's too hard; whoever is at the end of the walkway has some kind of magnetic pull on me.
I stop a few feet from the bottom step of the platform—there are three total to the top where the throne chair sits. As impressive as the chair is up close, when I see the golden-brown skinned man seated within it—who was definitely not there half a second ago, mind you—my mouth falls open.
I've encountered a number of older men—Mr. Tate, Neighbor James, the mailman—but none of them look like this guy. Everything about his appearance—the jet black eyes with the irises a blacker black than the pupils, the dazzling smile, the dimples in his salt-and-pepper bearded face—is appealing. He's probably at least Neighbor James' age, but there's a boyish charm evident in the way he's slouched in the chair with a leg draped over the side. "My sincerest apologies, dear, but as my grandson is not available at the moment, you'll have to speak with me. I certainly hope you don't mind."
I try to speak, but no words come.
He stands and comes down to me. He's not much taller than I am, but his presence is more imposing than a ten-foot giant.
"I've been expecting you," he says sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning forward slightly. Of course he smells incredible. His words register in my mind, and my heart skips a beat; he was expecting me?
"I'm Dr. Shetani," he continues, "I hear you're batting for our team now, so you may call me Oskur." My eyes go wide with recognition, and I stare at him in disbelief for a moment before noticing his outstretched hand. The moment I see it, my hand moves involuntarily just like my feet did. He smiles as his icy fingers wrap around it in a firm grip. "Lovely gloves," he says, winking at me. "And I see you have a penchant for white nails just like your mother did, hmm?"
"How'd you know I was coming?" I ask, my irritation at his mention of my mother helping me to find my voice.
"Oh I have my sources, dear." He lowers his chin, revealing the wicked gleam in his glassy peepers. "Coercion is sometimes necessary, unfortunately, but I do get the information I need."
Despite the disturbing nature of what he's saying, his deep voice is kind of hypnotic; it sounds almost musical, and I'm suddenly very sleepy.
"I've been looking forward to meeting you, young lady," he continues. "Your arrival caused quite a stir, you know. It's beyond me how your mother managed to get away. And with a baby on board no less!" A wild fury flashes in the obsidian pools of his eyes. "Such a shame we got rid of those police reports. If I had any idea which officer reported your mother dead when she was still alive—"
"You mean the cops weren't working for you?"
"Well, technically, everyone in this town works for me," he smirks. "But no, the investigation was not orchestrated."
I feel my eyebrows furrow. This whole time, I was under the impression that the Shadows had the false report of the murder/suicide created. If they didn't, who did?
"Anyway, I was absolutely delighted when Mauro told me you'd be working with us! We have big things on the horizon, you know. Big, big things. We could definitely use a Spark of your caliber on the team!"
The tape. That's where I've heard this voice... this—Oskur—is the man who 'bested' my grandfather and assigned Rave to track my parents. So the letter from Yours to Cyrus is the one from my Grandpa Aron to my dad that mom mentioned in the video. Duh, Bliss.
Great. Another Shadow that has confessed to killing one of my family members.
As I look at him grinning at me, a dense hatred solidifies in the spaces between my ribs, and I stand up straighter. "If I'm of such a 'high caliber', why not just kill me? Seems stupid to let someone in who has the power to destroy you—"
Oskur throws his head back in loud laughter. It echoes through the chamber and rings in my ears. "Oh, please, Bliss," he says, speaking my name for the first time. "You don't even know who you are, child. You're absolutely no threat to me or anyone else in our fold now. You surrendered your measly little light abilities to my grandson, remember? Honestly, even if you still possessed them, the thought of you 'wielding them against me' is downright comical."
I try to look away from him, but my eyes are stuck.
"You will work with us, my dear, not against us," he continues, beginning to pace. "Initially, you are to blend in, but maintain your guise as an active Spark. We will introduce you to everyone in the coming weeks. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your little agreement to anyone; You, Mauro, and I are the only three who are aware of it, and we will keep it that way, understand? You will report to Mauro for further instructions."
Indignation stirs within me. "What if I refuse to?"
"Oh you don't want to do that, child," he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You and my grandson made a deal. He's a wonderful boy, isn't he? So much promise. Yes, you will uphold your end of the bargain."
My heart begins to race. I know arguing with this man is stupid, but I can't help it. I can't just accept his orders without putting up some kind of fight. "And if I don't?"
A searing pain shoots through the finger marks behind my ear, and I drop to my knees as everything I dread bombards my senses. I hear painful moans all around me, and a swarm of moths suddenly flies at my face. I open my mouth to scream, and they fly down my throat, choking me back into silence; I can feel them laying eggs in my lungs. Soon I will die, and they'll eat my corpse from the inside.
The overpowering scent of lilies fills my nose and I'm thrown back into the hospice room where mom spent her final days. She's dying again and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Snakes slither across my arms and chest, then up around my neck, and ravens land in my hair and peck at my forehead and eyes. I squeeze them shut as tightly as I can, and the sound of screeching tires roars in my ears. Reign screams in agony as the car pins him against the guardrail, and I cry out as he folds over on the hood, dead. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't think—
"Awful feeling, isn't it?" Oskur says as everything abruptly stops. I force my eyes open and glare up at him as I catch my breath.
"You're a monster," I say through gritted teeth.
He squats and takes my chin in his hand to keep me from moving my face. "Oh you have no idea, child," he says. "I am your very worst nightmare. You should have a chat with your lovely grandmother. She could tell your some stories—oh wait, that's right... she doesn't talk anymore."
I snatch my face away.
"Oh, I struck a nerve, hmm? Alright then... You will do exactly as I say, or I'll be forced to pay that sweet Ginger a visit. I assure you she'll be dying to see me. That cute little cousin of yours too. You know she's terrified of The Dark, right? Thanks to my grandson again...."
No. This isn't right. "But Mauro said they'd be safe! He agreed not to hurt any of my family members or frien—"
"And you believed him?" He frowns at me. "I must say, I'm a little disappointed in you, child.... I didn't think anyone could be as naïve as your mother, but here you've just proven me wrong."
"What are you talking about?"
"Bliss, your friends and family will never be safe. As a matter of fact, getting rid of everyone you love is my highest priority. I'll be putting together the final initiation assignments later this evening, and I can assure you, your loved ones will be first on the list."
My heart beats wildly, and I can feel what little hope I have left in my heart begin to fizzle out as his words spread across my mind like a slow-moving puddle of slick black oil. "But Mauro and I had a deal!"
He shakes his head. "Mauro had no intention of following through with whatever he promised you, Bliss."
My heart beats faster and faster and faster. "That's not fair!"
He leans in really close to me and I squeeze my eyes shut so I don't have to look at him. "It never is, Bliss. It never is."
Outraged, I open my eyes and leap to my feet, ready to attack him. I find myself standing in a tree shadow at the spot in the woods where I made the deal with Mauro. Just as I turn to leave, I notice an old-school black muscle car with a large gold bird painted on the hood sitting out on the road with the doors open. The license plate says, "REIGNIN".
I almost laugh out loud—I never thought about what kind of car Reign would drive because he always seemed to just pop up everywhere, but now that I see it, it makes so much sense, it's comical—but then I hear the voices on the road.
"It was right here." Reign points to the dented area of the as yet unrepaired guardrail. "This is where the truck had me pinned."
Celia gasps in horror. With a hand over her heart, I see her chest rise and fall really fast as she begins to cry. "I'm so sorry, Reign. I'm so, so sorry this happened to you."
My eyes fill with tears. This is my nightmare. Of course Oskur would send me here, the wicked bastard. I hate him.
Reign stands looking at her with his lips parted, his eyes wide, and his brows slightly raised. It's a classic look of concern—and it's exactly how he used to look at me.
The whole moment seems backwards: he's leaning on a cane, but she's the one needing to be held up. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight against him. I can see her upper body shudder as she sobs into his chest.
"Ce, I want to thank you for coming back for me," he says. "There's something I want to ask you that I should've asked a long time ago."
She looks up into his face.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
The wind blows in my face, but I can't feel anything because my entire body has gone numb. I can't hear her response, but I can only assume she says yes because Reign smiles. I watch in absolute horror as he wipes the tears from her face, and tilts her head back to kiss her.
I look around and try to find something that seems a little off, an anchor point that let's me know I'm dreaming like Mr. Casey taught me.
But I can't find one. This isn't a dream.
I close my eyes and take a few steps backwards, not wanting to see it. Not wanting to believe it. The marks behind my ear throb, and then everything goes silent.
When I open my eyes, I'm standing in Oskur's pitch-black planning room, just like in my nightmare.
But of course, now that I can see in the dark, I can see everything.