The Reclamation (Shadowed Wings Book 3) Page 4

  “Where?” Ryn finally demands.

  I take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “To the Ouphe.”

  4

  “What the rut did you just say?” Zeph growls.

  “Are you addled?” Ryn counters.

  “Why would we do that?” Treno demands.

  I sigh.

  I point to each of them in turn, answering their questions. “I said the Ouphe. Who knows at this point, and we would go there because I think they may be able to help.”

  “How do you know?” Ryn asks, getting his question out before the others can voice theirs.

  “Because I ran into a little Ouphe spirit or something when I was with you guys, and she told me.”

  “An Ouphe spirit?” he questions, clearly not buying it.

  “Yep.”

  Treno steps toward me, and my attention goes straight to him. “Where is there?”

  “I would guess somewhere in the Quietus Mountains. I don’t know exactly, but there’s a place I was supposed to meet them, somewhere in that area. I had a map before you and your asshole soldiers shot me out of the sky, but I think I remember it well enough to get there.”

  “You were going to meet with the Ouphe?” Zeph snarls, charging out of the shadows of his sulking corner, and I shoot to my feet to meet his impending rage-filled advance.

  “You can shove all that righteous indignation up your tight ass. I get that there’s no love in you for the Ouphe, but you don’t get to take that shit out on me,” I warn. “I wasn’t going to meet them. I was asked to, but when you threw me out, I was just trying to get home. Regardless of all of that though,” I quickly add, cutting off Zeph when he opens his mouth to say something that will no doubt be dickish and rude, “Nadi—the Ouphe ghost chick—thought that they could help me possibly undo the Vow. If we could do that, then there’d be no more issue with Lazza and company, right? No Vow equals no war.”

  “What do you mean help you undo the Vow?” Treno asks warily.

  “Turns out my dad was full Ouphe and apparently one of the last Bond Makers left. My mother was half Ouphe, leaving me more Ouphe-tainted than usual. If I can find the language they used to create the Vow, then Nadi thinks I’d be able to break it.”

  “Falon, you cannot trust the Ouphe. Whatever it is that they’ve told you, there’s a catch or something in it for them,” Ryn implores, his features hard and angry and his gray eyes beseeching.

  “Maybe,” I agree. “But in the grand scheme of things, does that really matter? We can’t go to the Hidden. We can’t fight Lazza ourselves. This is our best chance at trying to find some secret weapon, some Hail Mary, that could stop all the fighting for good. Isn’t that what you were looking for in Kestrel City, some way to end all of this once and for all?”

  Ryn shoots a look to Zeph and then locks his eyes back on the fire.

  “What’s a Hail Mary?” he asks, confused.

  “It’s a football thing—don’t worry about it,” I add when I see the what’s football question form on his lips.

  Zeph runs his fingers through his wavy black hair and paces like a caged lion. I can see the fury in every tight coiled muscle in his body. As much as I don’t like him most of the time, I have to give him some credit, because I can tell that he’s considering what I’m saying. He has as much a right as any to hate the Ouphe, to refuse to never trust them or go near them again, and yet for the good of his people and everyone else, he’s at war inside about what to do.

  The fire crackles ominously, hissing like it wants to argue with what I’m about to say, but I ignore it. “I get that this won’t be easy. I wouldn’t drop it at your feet if there were any other way, but if I’m right, if I can break the Vow, destroy it forever, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

  “How can we be expected to trust them?” Zeph asks, but his question falls to the dirt of the cave floor unanswered.

  I have no idea what to say or if we even can. But we’re not defenseless. From what I’ve heard, the Ouphe have been hunted and run down until they’re ragged and desperate. I’m supposedly one of the last with the kind of magic they need to finally dig themselves out of the hole they created, and I figure that will give us the upper hand as long as we’re careful.

  “We don’t have to trust them to use them,” Treno states.

  “Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you,” Zeph barks, and Treno bristles.

  I wonder for a moment how Treno is still on his feet. He had to be as hungry and drained as I was, and yet he’s still spewing all the resentment and anger like it’s not taking a toll at all. They start arguing again, and I release an exasperated exhale and debate about stealing more food from the fire. These idiots don’t seem to be in a hurry to eat. It would serve them right.

  They all converge on each other, and I rush to get in the middle of it all. I get that they’re mad and hate each other on fundamental levels, but this bash each other’s heads in mentality isn’t going to get us anywhere, especially if I’m going to have to suffer the aftereffects of their fighting too. Right now we really need to put a stop to Lazza and whatever he has planned next.

  “Enough!” I scream. My voice cracking like a teenage boy’s.

  I shove my hands out to keep massive angry shifter bodies from sandwiching me. As soon as my palm touches Treno’s chest, he recoils. Hurt sucker punches me right in the stomach. I try to shrug it off so I can get a hold of this messed up situation, but the steady ache in my chest makes it hard.

  “She’s your mate!” Ryn snaps at Treno, surprisingly not liking what just happened any more than I do.

  “Just stop! All of you. Please!” I yell, but my voice is rough and scratchy, and the bite in my tone sounds more like an aggravated nibble. Fuck, I’m tired. “Zeph, where are the Hidden now? Would Loa have told Lazza where to find them?” I ask, trying to get him to focus on something else other than his desire to rip apart Treno or Ryn, depending on who has looked at him wrong in the last five minutes.

  “No, Loa was spotted sneaking off, and it alerted us that something wasn’t right. We moved everyone soon after. They’re safe for now, but it’s a large group to keep hidden for long, and I’m sure Lazza will have scouts out looking for them.”

  I nod and turn to Treno. “Do you know what Lazza will do next?” Treno’s clashing eyes move from Zeph to me. I’m not sure if he’s going to answer. I can see the battle in his gaze. Maybe he doesn’t know where his loyalties lie when it comes to his brother, but I know he’s still loyal to his people...to the Avowed.

  “He’s not going to fight this battle on his own, Treno. Lazza will send people to their deaths to win, and he’ll do it whether they want to fight or not. I know you don’t want that,” Ryn tells him.

  I watch the battle in his face, hoping he can see the truth in what’s being said. But I’m not sure if he can look past his anger and do what’s best for the people he swore to lead.

  He shakes his head, and I can’t tell if it’s an admonishment to me or to himself. “He’ll amass an army, and then he’ll search every square inch of land until he finds the Vow traitors and destroys them.”

  He runs his hands through his long white hair, but they get stuck on the tangles and matted pieces strewn throughout his normally smooth locks. I’m tempted to reach up and help him comb out the mess, but that’s a stupid thought. He hates me.

  “It’ll take time for him to organize his army and to find our people,” Ryn reassures, and Zeph nods lost in thought.

  “I think the Ouphe might be our best bet. I mean, if any of you have a better plan, feel free to voice it…” I look at each of them, giving them time to suggest some alternative option, but no one speaks up. “How far is it from here to the Quietus Mountains?” I ask when it’s clear no other ideas are readily available.

  Ryn looks at me and then away in thought. “If we could fly, maybe a couple of days, but until we get far enough away from Kestrel City for flying to be safe, we’ll have to walk. Ma
ybe a week? Maybe eight days? It’s hard to say for sure.”

  Eight days, can we get there and convince the Ouphe to fight with us before Lazza finds where the Hidden are hiding? I feel like fucking Atlas with the weight of this world on my shoulders. What if I’m wrong? What if Ryn and Zeph are right, and I’m an idiot to trust the Ouphe? What if it bites us in the ass?

  I go back and forth in my mind, debating the pros and cons, but the thing I keep coming back to is what else can we do? What other options do we have? We need to try something, because if it comes down to a head-to-head battle, Lazza has the numbers. Even if by some miracle the Hidden can pull off a victory, how much will both sides lose before that happens?

  If I can break the Vow though. If I can undo it, then Lazza can’t force anyone to do anything, and what reason would the Hidden have to fight their own people anymore? If I can find the language and figure out how to use it, I could help stop this war.

  I take a deep breath and accept the responsibility of the task. It settles like a planet on my chest, and I know I’m going to have to get stronger and prepare a hell of a lot harder in order to successfully carry such a heavy burden.

  “So that settles it then. When do we leave?”

  They’re all completely silent as they walk away from me and move back into their respective corners. Zeph disappears back into his shadows, but not before he grabs two sticks of meat from the fire. Ryn returns to his seat by the flames and tears into his own dinner. Treno watches all of it from his corner, I’m sure not failing to notice that there’s no more food cooking over the fire for him.

  I sigh and shake my head. I stomp over to Zeph and snatch a meat-filled stick from his hand before he can stop me. I jump away as quickly as possible, expecting him to try and take it back, but he just growls and mumbles a bunch of shit I can’t hear.

  That’s probably a good thing.

  I grab the blanket that Treno was sleeping on and drag it over to his newly claimed angry corner. I hand him the food and the blanket. He eyes them warily and doesn’t move to take them.

  “We both know you’re weak and that you need this. You can still be pissed at me and at them while you eat. I won’t read into your acceptance of food as anything other than you being hungry.”

  Treno stares at the meat a minute more, and then he concedes. I nod once and drop the blanket at his feet. I move back over to the fire and collect some grot berries and the not-watermelon and set them on Treno’s blanket. An irritated grunt sounds off from the shadow shrouded corner, and I look over my shoulder to glare at Zeph. I can’t make out exactly where he is in the pitch-black area, but I know his eyes are on mine.

  I mouth grow up and then turn back to Treno. “The berries taste like ass. You probably already know that, but just in case you don’t, those things should come with a warning.”

  I look over my shoulder and give the dark corner a pointed look.

  “You’re up and walking, aren’t you?” Zeph states evenly, and touché sounds off in my mind.

  “Please,” I scoff. “That’s my own stubbornness at play, not your ass berries,” I lie.

  Ryn snickers, either from the ass berries comment or my bad bullshitting, but either way it’s a nice sound to hear instead of all the yelling and accusations. I make my way to my own blanket and try to get comfortable—well, as comfortable as you can get lying on the cold rock hard ground. I stare off into the dancing flames of the fire and let my mind wander. How the fuck did my life go so wrong so fast?

  I circle that question over and over again, trying to look at it from every angle in my mind. Where and how did everything go so wrong, and how in rutting Thais Fairies am I going to get it back on track? I wallow in those thoughts for a very long time, and then everything in and around me starts to blur and I quickly fall asleep.

  A doorbell chimes, waking me up. Groggily I listen to footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. I hear someone flick the light switch on and draw back the curtain to the window next to the door.

  I look out my own window to see that the moon is still high in the sky and the stars are out and still up to their mischievous twinkling. It’s still night. I hear the door creak open and my gran speak softly to whoever is on the other side of it. I sit up, too curious not to sneak out of my room and have a peek at what’s going on, but then I notice my mom standing in the corner, next to my bookshelf.

  She smiles at me and I smile back, but something about the exchange feels off. I suddenly feel scared.

  “What are you doing, mommy?” I ask softly, my voice heavy with sleep.

  “Saying goodbye, My Heart,” she tells me, her smile filled with tender affection, but then she wipes a tear from her cheek.

  “Why are you sad?” I ask as I feel my own worry and sadness climb to the surface, but my mom walks over and pulls me into her arms, and I suddenly feel better.

  “I’m always with you, Falon. Remember that, okay?” she tells me, and I squeeze her tighter and nod my head against her chest.

  “We tried hard to hide you from it all, but it found us anyway,” she tells me on a sob as she pulls me in even closer. Her hug is bruising and it hurts, but I don’t want to say anything. I’m scared. “Just know that you are all you need, okay, My Heart? When the loneliness and sadness feels overwhelming, remember that you are enough, and you will be okay. I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

  “I love you too, mommy,” I tell her, but all at once, she’s gone. I fall to the bed, my mother’s bruising hug and words just an echo around me. I can feel her lips against my hair, and yet there’s no one here. Confusion fills my mind, and then fear quickly replaces it. I throw back my covers and call out for my mother.

  Did I have a bad dream?

  Footsteps rush up the stairs and relief filters through me. She’s coming. She’ll make it all better. My gran’s face peeks in through the door, her complexion ruddy and her cheeks wet.

  “I had a bad dream,” I tell her, and she rushes to the bed and pulls me into her lap.

  She doesn’t say anything, she just rocks me and cries. This reminds me too much of my dream, and I feel instantly nervous and afraid.

  “What’s wrong?” I finally ask

  “There was an accident, my sweet. Your daddy didn’t make it, and your mommy got hurt.”

  I try to understand what she’s talking about, but there’s a knock on the door. I look up to find a police officer standing there.

  “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we just received news that Noor Umbra passed before the ambulance could make it to the hospital.”

  “Oh, no,” Gran keens, and she drops her cheek to my head and starts to rock me harder as she cries. I don’t know what’s going on. I just saw my mommy, and she didn’t look hurt. Does she need a Band-Aid? I always feel better after I get a Band-Aid for my owies. I’ll wait to ask when Gran doesn’t feel so sad. I relax into my gran’s hug and think about my dream, my mommy’s voice like a whisper in my ear.

  “I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

  5

  I wake up with a start and immediately sit up. I press a palm to my chest as if the gesture will help my heart to slow down.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  I don’t know why I’ve never made the connection before, but my mother was there the night she died. She held me and told me she loved me. I hadn’t made it up. I try to breathe through the shock of the realization, but I feel like I’m floating haphazardly, and I don’t know how to get my feet back on the ground.

  The night my parents died feels like it’s burned into the fabric of who I am. I’ve always replayed my gran telling me, the memory changing with time as I grew older and understood more and could look at it through a different lens than the one my five-year-old self saw everything through.

  I’ve always thought of the dream as just that...a dream. I’ve even wondered if my mind made it up. One last moment with my mother that my psyche so desperately wanted that the want itself morphed into a confusin
g memory. But looking at it all now, knowing what I am and what they were, it changes everything about that night for me.

  If I hadn’t left my own body to visit Zeph, if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand, I would easily still call it all a dream, but I know better. She was there that night. She could do what I can do. She said goodbye. So many different emotions fight to be let out, but I try to wade through them to make sense of all of this.

  I think back through what I thought I knew about my childhood, and try to piece all these surfacing memories into my version of the past. I feel like I’m trying to put a puzzle together with a bunch of pieces I didn’t even know I was missing.

  My mother and father met and learned that they were mates. It seems like all of that went down at a volatile time. If I had to guess, I would suspect all of this happened at the beginning of a Gryphon uprising, since it was my father who seemed to be unsafe, and my mother’s connection to him was what also put her in danger.

  Somehow my gran, who wasn’t actually my blood relative, but my mother’s servant, figured out how to escape, and they all ended up in the world I grew up in. We were hiding. My parents and my gran thought it would be safer, but clearly that couldn’t have been the case, because we were still hiding.

  I think back to my mother’s journal, and something suddenly hits me. The dates I saw in the first book that had my mother’s name. She was born in 1619, which is a fact that’s hard for me to wrap my mind around, but that’s not what’s puzzling me. It said to see the archived writings, which I now know was my mother’s journal. She writes about being pregnant, but the information in the tome states that the journal was discovered in 1927.