Chapter Two
EPHEMERAL
“What have you done to me?” Farrow’s shrieking echoes violently throughout the empty streets.
When I turn around, I find her totally freaking out, jumping from one leg to the other like some kind of crazed creature. She wipes and scratches at her skin, as if something is attacking her from the inside. When she turns toward me, all color has drained from her irises, her eyes soulless black orbs staring into nothingness. Farrow stumbles forward, shoving her arms at me so I can take a look. Her veins protrude black and blue like they are fixed to the outside of her skin.
I, too, look down at my arms and see the veins are inflamed, my skin almost transparent. It reminds me of all the clones buried inside those glowing blue tubes back at the fortress where I was created. My heart beats erratically inside my chest as the memories of the day I was ‘born’ come back.
I awoke chained to a wall. My creator, Enoch, was playing his damaging mind games with me. He tricked me into believing I was Ava. But I escaped him, took him out, and made a run for it. I remember all those creatures, and just like me they were locked up in long, glowing glass tubes, dozens of them filling up every room and corridor of the vast, stoned fortress on planet Poseidon’s hidden moon. Expressionless, huge, dark pitted holes for eyes; organs and veins pulsating for life beneath transparent skin. That was the Shadow army… and they awaited my call. His plan all along. I was the face of the Chosen one, and while he actually held her captive, I was gathering their secrets for him. I was Troy’s hunter, built to ruin him, test him and break him. I found ways to sway the prophecy in his favor. But what he never expected was that my purpose of creation would be the one thing that would lead to his ruin.
“Holy crap!” Farrow’s yelling snaps me out of my dark reverie.
I turn in surprise when Troy is suddenly standing before me, talking.
“Troy?” I call to him, unsure if he is still under my siren magic. He just holds his hand up for me to stay quiet.
My eyes follow his gaze, and my feet are automatically drawn forward by the inconceivable sight before us. I see purple skies tainted by black bellowing smoke of ruin. Poseidon’s surface is uneven and my feet have trouble finding solid ground. My foot slips on a piece of rubble, but I keep my eyes affixed upon the devastation, feeling the weight of the secrets in my journal push me to ground. Fragments of buildings, jagged parts of broken furniture, and of dying plant life litter what remains of the streets. Farrow finds her place beside Troy, her eyes wide and back to their normal emerald green. There are no words to capture the magnitude of the disaster that has captured us in a state of horrifying shock.
Even I have only been inside the walls of the city, Vista, once before. But the memories of my Prime, Ava, and her time at the school here on planet Poseidon are clear in my mind. I remember, as she once did, bright colors of wondrous gardens and immaculate spacious halls. High, glass towers glistening against purple skies at the break of dawn, and the ghostly glow of the three moons on a clear summer’s evening. Beautiful, cobbled stone paths just a vague silhouette as the fragile memories of the smoky ruins blanket the forgotten amethyst sky in utter darkness.
I release a crushing breath in utter disgust. Gray dust is picked up by a lonely breeze and brushes across the crumbled sidewalk beside me. Small stones, sand, and a fine layer of black soot shoot across our faces with the flip of a wild gust. We close our eyes and turn away from the wind to shield them from the assault. Imprinted on the inside of my eyelids are my last memories of this place: Running. Fire. Storm. Cyborgs. Death.
The air is foul and damp as it comes in from the direction of the silos across stripped fields. It smells of perished food and animal decay. I gag at my reflection in the blackened muddy pool before me. I am at a total loss, and the loss is real and suffocating me from the inside.
“No offence, guys, but seriously? This place just doesn’t impress me. It’s not anything near as glorious as it’s rumoured to be.” Farrow picks up a rock, turns it in her palm and chucks it into the large body of water that has flooded the street before us. “Some place the gods have her,” she snickers.
Troy and I can’t bring ourselves to consider her sarcasm, let alone answer her. When our eyes meet, we share the same thoughts. Has anyone survived, followed by, we should never have left them here.
In the set of his jaw and by the darkness of his eyes, I am held hostage by his feelings of despair. His heart beats achingly so and it echoes inside me. The last time I felt him like this, was when he was seeking Ava in the fortress. I feel his torment, and I know his mind does not want to think of the tremendous loss and the fall of us all. His next thoughts take him to ground. He sinks to his knees and stares straight ahead, digging his fingers into the pile of cinders that surrounds us.
“Troy, I am sorry,” Farrow says, her hand reaching for his.
He doesn’t accept her sympathy, but grabs her hand all the same and yanks her to the ground so he can look her in the eye. “I hate your kind. This is what happens when your disease spreads. You think your home planet is cursed―at least a curse means some kind of life. Look around you, Farrow. There is nothing but death here. It’s gone, all of it!”
“Why are you blaming me?” she shrieks, and slaps him across the face.
Troy retaliates by shoving her away from him. She falls back into the debris, her arms held to her chest. Her green eyes light up in fury and shame, and it’s the first time I have seen her humiliated by the life she has chosen. Of the blood that has turned her. For a moment, something like regret pales her face. To me, it looks like it might be the first time she has ever considered that the Shadow disease is evil. Or, does she for the first time see what evil is?
“I blame everything that is of your kind,” he sneers.
His shoulders are tense, and deadly sexy that way. I know his back is purposefully turned to me; he can’t say to my face what he can to Farrow. She chose the Shadow life. I did not. But the guilt tickles at the back of my mind. In a way I, too, chose the dark path. I chose to let my anger take me and trigger the blood-shift. I consumed the force that is the Shadow disease and used it to change me, and let that become my need for power in order to gain what I wanted. But I am too far into the mind of the Shadow kind to turn my ways. I was born to be bad.
The regret leaves me quickly. I had to do what I did for Troy and me to be together. Ava has failed her chosen destiny and as her clone, I am deserving of its offerings. As the mind of a beast takes me to a horrid reality at what little humanfeelingsremain within me, it fights against the dark aggressive thoughts. And so, this is to be my life―to forever be in half, to be neither human, nor beast. To be in twilight, to forever remain in the shadow of his heart.
Time elapses, torturously slow, and the tension mounts in thick, palpable waves as the three of us stay deadly quiet. Not moving, not thinking, just being and feeling ruined; desperately wishing things were different. When Troy eventually does turn to face me, the look in his eyes is enough for me to start thinking about my wrongdoings, of how the minute I found out I was his girlfriend’s clone, I should have told him. That my deceit was the unraveling of this place, the cause of the Council giving us over to Enoch to be destroyed. I was too afraid of losing him, but I should have told any of the others who sacrificed on my behalf what I felt was wrong inside me. That I was not the Chosen one, that I was a distraction, a mock, a lure. A clone. And now I finally understand what clone means―to own nothing. My only solution? To twist everything.
Memories of my time here flash furiously before me, and in a few breaths I relive the deceit and lies I brought with me when I first came to planet Poseidon as Ava. I recall the chaos brewing inside me when we thought I was her, but it was me. I was the spy hidden beneath her face. I brought the Shadow army here. I brought death upon them all. The thought must have been written all over my face, because Troy suddenly appears right in front of me, and with him the memories of our last night on Poseidon.
My vision filled with monstrous flames licking into the depths of the stormy night. A loud explosion ruptured through the streets of Vista. The panic pulsated in my chest, but before I could get a hold on my thoughts, another loud explosion tore through the air, crackling like a beast. Our screams became lost in the echoes of terror. Loud crashes came from every direction, enclosing us within its catastrophic claws. Flames so high and wide, we were about to be devoured within the jaws of the fiery creature. I didn’t give myself time to hesitate for a second longer. I grabbed my two best friends and hurled them down the stairs. The door came crashing in as we hit the bottom floor; Robert and David came tumbling through it, smoke sweltering up behind them. There were no alarms to warn us….
With the memory, comes sensation to my skin as Troy gently wraps his fingers around my palm, a burning that rakes up and down my arm, spreading its sweltering tendrils over my face. I close my eyes, unable to bear the sadness echoing in his gaze as he stares down at me in absolute silence. I can almost taste the smoke coat the inside of my mouth as the memories lift, and I know I can’t stay in this flashback forever. I can’t fix what I have broken. There is no way out for me.
When I open my eyes, he wraps his other hand around me and more sensations ripple over my skin, the heat and pressure of his grip on my forearm blossoms to life. It’s as if he wants me to feel what I have done, what I have become. It is all so confusing, because Troy is not the kind to push memories, thoughts, and emotions into anyone. But I guess a lot has changed since my siren magic took him. I begin to understand, but as the Dark Queen, I have no control over the emotions that trigger my shift. All my design is meant for is to protect me from danger, and I guess no matter what the threat it will always react. My design is primitive; my design is first and foremost what has to be kept sacred to survive at all costs. This time my shift releases, quicker and fiercer, and more desperate than ever before. I guess hurt is a powerful emotion, one you can’t hold back, and one you can’t push down.
Farrow’s screams snap me out of my blood-shift and as it simmers beneath my veins, I realize I have released a massive pulse-wave into the air around me. Troy’s body catapults through the air and with a huge black splash disappears into the dark, dirty water a good distance away.
The realization hits me hard. “Troy!”
I start running.
My dress becomes hooked on a steel rod protruding from a mangled frame and rips as I pull free, sending me stumbling forward into the water’s edge, palms first. As I reach hip deep into the stench of polluted water, I dive under―total darkness. Putting my hands out in front of me, I feel for objects. Idiot, I yell to myself. If I have no sensation on my skin, how will I feel my way beneath the murky depths? When I open my eyes beneath the water, I can’t make out a single thing, just the faint silhouette of my silver dress as light filters in from above and reflects off it. There are pieces of cloth and plant life floating by ominously. My hands work hard at pushing the floating mess from my limited view, but I still can’t see him anywhere. I keep swimming forward, using my hands to feel beneath me, around me, above me, and when they can’t move any more forward it’s a tell that there is something blocking my way. At times, my body bumps into many objects, even my hair becomes tangled in a web of metal, brick, and huge pieces of bark that jut out from a collapsed wall. I have to get real close to get a good look at the object.
Sometimes, I smash face first into objects without even realizing it, the burden of not having the sensation to feel. This is useless! Kicking out, I surface, hoping that Troy has emerged somewhere nearby. In the distance, Farrow’s voice floats over the water. She is saying something about… more to my left? I grab onto a nearby log, it slowly bobs up and down as I pull myself over it. The log is like charcoal; burned and riddled with black chalk-like soot. My palms come away gloved with smut as I grapple for balance. Still I see nothing but a vast body of water, and then my mind grasps on to the fact that I have a skill, one that is true to my design as a clone. Enoch created me for one reason―to hunt Troy. I share the intense bond that Ava and Troy do, and I have the ability to amplify that bond, that yearning, and actually feel and hear his heartbeat from a long distance away. I used this skill to escape the fortress where Enoch held me. I will use it now to find him, before it is too late.
Closing my eyes, I descend back into the darkness of the water. The quietness helps in times of panic. Its darkness and denseness fold around me, bringing on the stark quietness. The effects are immediate. It is faint at first, but the more I shut out everything around me; my thoughts and my fears, the more his pulse vibrates inside me. It’s a vibration beneath my skin at first, and then it becomes palpable. I can almost taste him on my lips, smell his intoxicating scent. Thump, thump. I hone in; thump, thump, thump, thump―slow and faint. Without any thought or effort my body slices through the water, as if I was born from its very currents. I surface, almost certain I should be right on top of his floating body, his heartbeat so loud it is almost unbearable. My eyes are blurry from having opened them in the mucky water, but I can’t see him... anywhere.
Swimming out to a passing log, I try to get some elevation so that I can see farther over the swamping surface. I have to block my ears from the drumming of his heartbeat inside my head, not sure how long I can withstand its hurtful effects. Lying flat on my stomach, I manage to still hold onto my ears while using my feet to propel me toward his pulse. The farther out I go, the denser the floating debris becomes, and eventually I have to use my hands to push past. Dead fish, birds, and strange forest animals I’ve never seen before gloomily float by. A beady, black eye of a fish stares at me and I have to turn away. There is something about the loss of an innocent, fragile and oblivious life that bothers me, so I turn away from the lifeless soul.
The stench of the water is disgusting, but the sight of bloated and deformed animal life is vulgar and nauseating. It’s as if the distraction has cured the effects of Troy’s beating pulse, but the pull is still strong and desperate. Like a starved, crazed beast, I find myself dangerously anxious to get to him before it pulls me apart. When I get closer, I realize Troy is conscious, holding tight onto the floating remnants of a wall panel. Blood is dripping from a head wound that has already started to heal. I smile to myself, because this is the reason why he will choose me over Ava. He can use his abilities around me. He is not cursed by a Truth Seeker’s destiny. He is unbound and can be his total magical self with me. Poor Ava cripples Troy’s healing abilities; it is part of their stupid sacred destiny in some way.
“Troy!” Shouting out his name makes me disturbingly nervous.
He doesn’t answer me when I get close, hardly makes eye contact. I reach over as he puts up his hand. I pull him onto the stump behind me, almost losing my balance. But to my surprise, his arm comes out and pulls me back into position. His breath is shallow and exhausted. My smile and relief are immediately replaced by vulgar regret. I did this to him. My siren magic makes him weak and sometimes, it works against me in that way.
“I am so, so sorry,” I say to him as we turn the floating vessel around.
“It’s fine,” he replies, but the tone in his voice tells me he is everything but fine.
It leaves a hollow ache in the pit of my stomach, one that builds with intensity as time ticks on. It becomes so profound that I can sense the invisible wall build up between us and taste the bitterness he throws my way. I paddle out toward the shore as fast as I can. I can’t stand him being mad at me. Troy’s body is cold and shivering so close to mine. My injuries of bashing into underwater objects throb on my hands, face, and feet as his arm lingers around my waist. It’s ironically cruel that his touch can both be inviting and unwanted at the same time. He is the carrier of life and pain to me. One single touch from Troy leaves my life a burning mess. A caress brings life to my skin and pain when I am injured.
When he moves―pulling his body away from mine―I find myself in a cold and bottomless pit of despair. I can’t help the way I feel without him. My creator made sure of that. Clever, really. The hunter can’t be without his prey for even a moment before he feels helpless and hollow, a desperate ache that only has one cure; to be with the one thing that could kill me. His hand lingers on the log inches away from my leg. I can almost feel my skin burn for his touch. When I turn to apologize to him one last time, he has already made his way into the water, a wounded animal swimming for shore. Anger rises inside me, spreads hot and wild across my chest like a wild revengeful inferno eager to devour its executioner.
I’ve been so careful, planned and struggled for what seems an eternity to have him so close to me, and to keep him that way. I have known nothing but lies and deceit, fed off nothing but the anger and disease that have coursed through my veins. There is no way and no lengths I will not go to make him mine. So why do I feel so conflicted?
As I make my way out of the water, Farrow is lurking real close to me. She has a confused, yet pleased, look on her face. She’s talking to me, but I hardly hear her squawks. I’m too focused on keeping up with Troy, and trying to think of how I’m going to win my place back into his heart.
“He’s pretty mad at you, Eva. I’d be, too, you know. All you seem to do is hurt him.”
“Get away from me.”
My hand is instantly at her throat, my fingers coiled around her pretty, little fragile neck, ready and willing to feel it snap. Barbs of dark smoke curl up around her jaw. If I don’t release her, the smoke is sure to choke her to death. I leer on remembering how strong my powers are when I am real angry. And on planet Poseidon, it seems to revel on its energy; it is, after all, the birthplace of my Shadowing disease. It is where Ava took her life and that of my creator. It is where the Shadowing disease resurrected them and brought the Shadowing kind the final pieces to destroy the prophecy.
“Let go of her.” Troy’s hand comes up and touches my bare shoulder.
The effect is instant, like before. It cures my anger and strips me of the effects of the dark disease. My shift draws back, and my reality becomes harsh and cold again. Unwillingly, I let go of Farrow. She falls to her knees, stroking her throat in vigorous desperation.
I turn to look at Troy, his lips are blue and shaking, and his touch is ice on my yearning skin. Overhead, a storm has crept in and the wind has increased, whipping a strand of my hair across my face. It stings, but it’s a good sting because it means two things. If I can feel it; Troy is still touching me, and the mere fact that I can feel―well, it feels good. But the feeling is ephemeral as he pulls back. In his eyes, I can see it’s changed him. He has changed. He considers me for a while and when I reach out to touch him, he draws back, shaking his head.
“The time for games is over.”
There is no emotion to his tone. No anger, resentment, or confusion.
He holds me in contempt.