Venus

Hello. :) This next part comes right after the last. The only thing you missed was a brief introduction. They all arrive back at Olympus, but not for long.

It happened like the quick beat of a drum. The bizarre thought that ran through my head was that the three of us looked like a sick game of dominoes. Peter was standing next to me. Suddenly, he screamed. It was a truly horrible sound, bringing back the nightmare of the first time I had seen him. It was a sound filled with torture and loss. He slumped forward onto his knees, covering his ears desperately. A breath. Adam gasped, the air around him a quick storm of pain. He let his breath out in a wail of sadness, clamping his pale hands over his ears and buckling forward. A breath. The cannon ball ripped through my middle, bursting in my heart. I heard a screaming and I wondered if it was me. A voice filled my head. It was beyond pain and terror and chaos. It was the sound like the end of the world.
“PETER!” she screamed. And then it was silent.
I gasped, uncovering my ears. I looked up to Adam, bright tears were glittering on his cheeks. I turned to Peter. His hand was pressed against his heart, his head bowed. When he looked up, he was a drowned man. My soul tore along its seams to see the heartbreak on his face.
“Adam,” Peter choked.
“It was Haden,” Adam sobbed. “We're too late.”
Peter jumped up and ran forward. His face was a stone mask of ferociousness. I had only seen it that way once before, when he believed his sister was lost forever. I took Marc's hand, already a step ahead. We couldn't be too late. Peter stopped in front of us.
“Find her,” he said.
“Marc,” Adam whispered.
“FIND HER!” Peter screamed.
The search was easy. The path shot off through the world, seeking out the little trailer. The image filled our minds and it was nothing but fire. I couldn't even feel her heartbeat. We tightened our grasped hands.
“Go,” Peter breathed. And we did.
We could see her when we stopped. She was lying in the grass about fifty feet in front of us. Flawless bronze hair fell to her middle in perfect ringlets. Her skin was too pale, frighteningly pale, but still beautiful. The bridge of her little nose was scattered with freckles, her lips almost white. She had on a yellow nightgown, torn and covered in blood. Her chest struggled to rise and her feet were caked with dirt. Still, she was breathtaking.
There was a little pond beside her, a thin layer of moss floating easily on the mirror surface. The trailer off to the left was a smoldering wreck. The blackened door frame hung on its hinges, a smear of burnt blood lining the knob. Peter lurched forward and I pulled myself after him. As we got closer, her wounds were more defined. Across her throat was a grizzly gash, deep and wide. Her middle, too, was torn. There was no blood around her, she had been dumped here. Her chest expanded again, just barely. Peter fell to his knees beside her, wiping her face with a shaking hand. Unbelievably, her eyelids twitched. She didn't open them, but they moved at his touch.
“Peter?” she choked. It was hardly a sound.
“I'm here, honey,” he crooned in her ear, his voice thick.
“Oh, Peter,” she tried to smile. “I didn't think you'd hear me.” Her voice was low, a little bell.
“It's ok,” he whispered, “I'm here.”
“And Dakota, of course,” she said.
“I'm here,” I whispered.
“Poor, Dakota,” she cried softly. “She'll know it's too late.”
“No,” Peter begged.
I laid my hands against her wounds. They weren't fresh, I couldn't bare to think of how long she had been lying here. The torn muscles fought back together desperately, the emptied veins pumped with difficulty. I couldn't replace the blood because the blood was already gone. The wounds didn't want to close, they argued and rebelled. The skin knit itself closed over the damage, pink scars barely marring the soft skin. But there was something else, something dark and deep within her body. It was like an infection, but it didn't reside in the blood or the muscles. It was black and thick and it had been there too long for me to touch it. It was death.
“The shadows... the... he...” her breath was barely a whisper.
“It's alright now, we're taking you home.” Peter gathered her into his arms like a limp doll.
“Marc,” Haylee whispered. Marc touched a hand to Peter as Haylee and I reached out for him.
“Peter,” the girl breathed. “My heart.” And we were gone.

* * *

Peter staggered ahead of us through the big double doors. A little moan escaped the beautiful girl's pale lips. We pushed in behind him, unsure of what to do. Hector and the twins were already waiting, Bailey and Miya standing from the couch. Adam's face twisted with grief. Anna ran forward, though unable to help. Hector breathed a prayer into the silence. Bailey wrapped a thick arm around Miya's shoulders. The air was thick with hopelessness, it was palpable that nothing could be done. But Peter carried her forward into the hallway with the doors, not pausing for a moment. We all followed silently. He stopped in the hallway, turning his head back and forth.
“Which one is hers?” he asked, his voice low.
“Venus,” Adam answered.
Aphrodite, of course. The goddess of love. The goddess of beauty. It seemed so obvious now, looking down at her perfect angel's face. Peter pushed her door open and balanced her against one knee as he pulled the covers back on her bed. He set her down gently, brushing aside her curls.
“More blankets,” I whispered.
I heard several feet rustle behind me. They were back in a breath, laying the heavy quilts on top of her. Haylee came back a moment later with a heating pad. She plugged it into the wall and slid it beneath the sheets. Peter pulled up the big chair and sat in it, his hand resting lightly against her cheek.
“What can we do now?” Haylee whispered.
“Wait,” I said.
“Can she... will she...” Adam couldn't control his voice.
“I don't know,” I answered honestly. I realized that my face was wet.
“You can't heal her,” Marc said. It wasn't a question.
“She's been dying too long, I can't stop the process.”
“There's no hope?” Anna choked.
“There is always hope.”
Peter hadn't heard any of this. He just laid his cheek against the pillow next to her sweet face. He was whispering in her ear, but the other's couldn't make it out. I could, but I numbed my ears to it. It wasn't meant for me, just for the heart of this dying girl. Peter hummed softly to her, stroking her cheek.
“Her name?” Haylee asked.
“I don't know,” Adam answered. Anna gasped suddenly.
“It was Haden! He'll go after the rest! We have to get to them before he does! We have to go now!” Her eyes were bright with the hunt. My heart was racing, but before I could agree Adam took her hand.
“Where the others are, Haden cannot go,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at him. “Trust me,” he finished. So I did.
We sat on the hard floor of her room for several hours, not speaking. Every so often, Peter would whisper in her ear or brush the curls across the pillow. When my legs fell asleep, I stood and went over to her. I pulled the blankets back a little and laid my hands against her chest. She was a little warmer, and her breathing was steady but shallow. Her heart was still beating weakly, the blood still struggling to fill her veins. But maybe it seemed like improvement. Seeing Peter's dark eyes adoring her, I couldn't convince myself otherwise. So I nodded to him, and he sighed.
“She's going to live,” Peter breathed. “She's going to live.”
When the room grew dark, I fell asleep. It wasn't exactly a real rest, I kept floating out on the air around the house, checking. I had just slipped into a doze again when I heard the rustling of fabric and opened my eyes. The beautiful girl shifted again under the blankets. I listened to the air. Her breathing was even, her heart catching up. She seemed almost warm. She moved again.
“Peter,” I said. He mumbled something. “Peter!” His head snapped up. The girl gasped softly. He leaned forward anxiously, cupping her cheek.
“It's alright, angel. You're safe. It's ok.” Her eyelids twitched. I was aware of the others crowding around the bed behind me, holding their breath. “Can you hear me, darling? Open your eyes. Come home.” Her eyelids twitched at the sound of his voice, the eyelashes fluttering. Then, miraculously, she opened her eyes.
She had been uncommonly beautiful before. But when her eyes drifted opened, it added the final piece to a beauty that was flawless and inhuman. Haylee literally gasped, and I knew that I had never seen any creation so stunning. Her eyes were the richest shade of gold. It wasn't a color that existed on earth, but an equal combination of all things. They were the sunlight wrapping itself around the world, the breath of a thousand flowers, the blinding shine of a million stars. They were unreal, startling, calming, and wonderful. She was perfect. Peter only smiled back, she was the most natural thing in the world to him.
“You had me worried,” he said to her. She lifted her hand to his cheek.
“I'm sorry,” she breathed. He chuckled, but his eyes were serious.
“I think I've been waiting for you for a very long time,” he whispered, almost soundlessly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I think so.”

no more arrows

After the last scene our wanderers pour into Olympus, joyful and awed. It is just like Dakota dreamed, so it seems almost familiar to her. Huge kitchen, dining room, living room with large glass windows, and a bedroom for each of them with their names on the door. But the excitement doesn't last long. Marc and Dakota argue about her exchange with Haden. She says that she had no way of knowing whether or not Haden was lying, and Marc doesn't understand how she can doubt him or the way he feels about her. The fight ends with Adam singing. Being the god of music, he lulls them to sleep. In the morning Dakota thanks him and asks him a few questions about what he can do. We learn that he can only see certain snapshots of the future, without any way to control what or when. As he says this, he sees who they will find next. Her name is Miya, he says, and that there might be danger. He can't see enough to be sure. The original four head off warily to find her, whoever she may be. This next bit is where we pick up after they vanish out.

Marc walked through the cover of the grass, searching for danger. He turned back toward us. His face was ancient and sad.
“I-” he began.
“Get down!” I screamed.
There was a silent whistle as something flew through the air. None of the others could hear it, I knew, but I felt it tearing toward us with terrifying speed. Marc raised his eyebrows at me. An arrow parted the tree branches behind him. The sharp point caught the light for one second, sparkling dully. The feathered end cut a green leaf like a tail fin. The arrow shot easily through Marc's left shoulder, slicing tendons and muscles. It ground to a heavy stop halfway through; the gleaming tip a few inches from his chest in front, the feathered end beside his shoulder blade in back. A dark circle of blood began to spread around the neat hole left behind. Then everything was deafeningly silent. Marc looked down at the arrow in slow motion.
“Ouch,” he said.
“Marc,” Peter groaned, rushing out through the cattails toward him. Marc went down on one knee.
“OW!” he shouted, still staring at the arrowhead sticking through his chest. “Seriously. Ow!”
Peter caught Marc's other shoulder as he slumped forward. Haylee and I scrambled toward them, slipping in the shallow water beneath us. Marc's face was pale, the dark circle of blood still spreading.
“Damn, that hurts,” Marc panted. Peter looked at me with wide eyes.
“Stay where you are!” a voice called from the distance. It was a strong female voice, unafraid.
“I got shot with an arrow,” Marc gasped incredulously. “I got shot with and arrow.”
“Don't move!” the voice yelled again.
The ground shivered beneath me as I stomped through the trees behind Marc. The branches shook with the movement, little pebbles bouncing against the dirt. My face burned with hot anger and my breath came in shallow gasps. Behind the trees was a dark house.
“Not another step!” the voice cried, afraid now. I heard another arrow lift into the air.
“Don't you dare,” I growled, standing my ground. There was a little gasp.
“I'm so sorry!”
A young girl peered out through the door, her eyes round. Her dark skin was smooth against a white shirt and jean shorts. The curly black hair that was cut close to her head gleamed in the sun. She smiled sheepishly.
“Oops,” she said.
“An arrow,” Marc moaned behind me as Peter pulled him through the trees.
The inside of the house was dark, black sheets stapled across the windows. There was garbage and dirty clothes on the floor, shards of broken dishes pale against the dingy carpet. Peter sat Marc on the closest couch, huffing with effort. Miya stood by the door, her eyes embarrassed and worried. I didn't pay attention to any of it. I knelt in front of Marc.
“Marc,” I asked, my voice hard. “Can you hear me?” His eyes stared off into the distance.
“Honestly, Dakota. An arrow. Really.” His eyes dulled a little.
“Marc,” I repeated, “I have to pull it through.”
“Nope. Uh uh.” He shook his head.
“It's the only way. I can't heal it otherwise.”
“It's pretty ok where it is,” he mumbled.
“Peter,” I spat. Peter held Marc's good shoulder in place and wrapped a hand around the other arm. Marc groaned. I was trembling
“I'll do it,” Haylee whispered.
She stepped around behind the couch. She wrapped a trembling hand around the shaft of the arrow and laid her other palm flat against Marc's back. She took a deep breath.
“One,” she said.
“Really, it's not so bad,” Marc said.
“Two.”
“It's honestly not a big deal.” His eyes were wide.
“Three.”
Haylee jerked her arm back, the arrow sliding out the way it had come. Marc screamed and slumped against Peter, who struggled to hold him in place. Haylee held the bloody arrow up, sweat beading on her forehead. Marc screamed again, folding over. I leaned forward and pulled his shirt off. The wound looked like a thin paper cut, but the skin and torn muscle around it was swelling rapidly. Marc's teeth were clenched, tears rolled down his face, his breathing fast through his nose. I laid my hand against his shoulder. The skin was hot and slick with sweat.
I felt my anger and anxiety fade away as the muscles knit themselves together beneath my touch. No bones had been grazed, no arteries severed. All in all, it was a pretty clean shot. When the skin pressed itself closed, I opened my eyes. Marc wiped the sweat from his brow, taking a shaky breath.
“Let's not do that again,” Marc smiled unevenly at me.
“Agreed,” I said, handing back his bloody shirt. He took it from me.A little laugh sounded from beside the door.
We all turned our eyes on the small figure at once. She flinched against our gaze. She looked down at her feet, peeking up at us again. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Finally, she met our gaze with a fierce sort of rebellion, her chin jutting out stubbornly.
“Ok,” she snapped. “In my defense, I've been listening to those shadows out there for days. How was I supposed to know you'd finally shown up?”
“So you thought shooting us was the best plan?” Peter asked.
“Look, it's creepy here! Those things are horrible.” She shivered.
“How did you get a bow and arrow anyway?” Peter sighed.
“I don't have a bow,” she said, confused.
“What?” Marc asked.
“I don't have a bow,” she repeated. She looked at us like we were missing something.
“How did you shoot it if you don't have a bow?” Haylee asked.
Miya's eyes widened, just the smallest bit. The air shivered slightly, losing some of its elasticity. Beside the couch, the lamp lifted from the table. Across the room a shoe floated by as a plate skimmed the wall. Three arrows rose from beside the door. Two turned down to point at the floor. One shot across the room, hitting the plate in the dead center, shattering it to pieces. There were several thumps as all the loose objects in the room fell back to their places. The arrow in the wall shivered.
“I'm a good shot,” she said with a shrug.
“But you have to be careful!” Haylee scolded, unimpressed.
“I know, I'm sorry. Please don't tell Bailey,” she begged suddenly.
“Who?” Marc asked.
A door behind us swung open. A man emerged from the room, wearing only boxer shorts. He scratched his dark hair and yawned hugely. He was massive. Thick slabs of muscle wrapped his body like a lumberjack. He didn't look quite like a body builder, the muscles weren't chiseled purposefully. Rather, they looked like the kinds of muscles that developed from years of heavy lifting. A farmer might have those muscles, or a construction worker. But he was young just the same, a strong jaw and a big smile. His eyelashes caught my attention, like delicate feathers over his brown eyes, they stood out against his masculine features. He glanced over at our shock, nodding our way.
“What's up, guys?” he said, walking into the kitchenette.
No one responded as he took out a box from the cupboard and set in on the counter. He belched and reached into the box. He lifted the flap and turned the container upside down.
“Seriously, Miya?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. She giggled loudly.
“Oops,” she said.
“Really with the granola bars? Really?” She giggled with delight.
“I didn't know it was the last one.”
“Gimme the cereal,” he said, holding out his hand.
From across the room, a battered box of cereal lifted into the air. It floated by and landed perfectly in his palm. She cleared her throat loudly, waiting for a response.
“You gotta work on that aim, it's getting sloppy,” he teased. She laughed easily.
He took a coffee mug from the cabinet and filled it with cereal, throwing a handful into his mouth. He crunched for a moment, then tossed the open box of cereal into a sink full of dirty dishes. Suddenly, he gasped, throwing his hand up to cover his right ear. He groaned.
“Alright, alright, I'm lookin' at 'em.” He turned our way, looking toward Peter and Haylee.
“Here we go,” Miya sighed, sitting on the floor.
“See? They're fine. They look great.” He covered his ear again, then sighed. “Alright, alright, I'm goin'.”
He walked over to Haylee, gently taking her head in his huge hands. He turned her face this way and that, staring. We all just watched in silence. Miya laughed softly.
“Happy? She's fine. Looks great.” He released her. “I'm goin', stop your fussin'.” He turned to Peter and took his face in his hands too. He turned it the way he had Haylee's, searching. “Right, excellent. Just fine. Yeah, great, very handsome. Good? Ok.” He let Peter go and sighed in frustration. “Your mother,” he explained to Peter's staring face, rolling his eyes.
He walked back to the kitchen and picked up his mug of cereal, crunching again. He scratched his chest, clearing his throat. He looked out the window, pushing aside a black curtain. Our eyes only got wider as the silence stretched on.
“Bailey,” Miya said. “You're freaking them out.” Bailey looked at her, understanding dawning on his face.
“Oh! Right.” He smiled at us, tapping his right ear. “I hear dead people,” he said. Miya chuckled.
“Freak,” she teased.
“Miya here, excuse me, Minerva is 'Athena, ancient goddess of wisdom'. It's a good joke, don't you think? Oh, and if you didn't catch that, she can move shit with her mind. I think what I can do is creepier, but, hey, whatever.”
“Showoff,” Miya laughed.
“Guests!” he cried suddenly, snapping his fingers. “Right. Guests.”
He pulled a big pitcher from the cupboard and filled it with water. He grabbed a handful of mugs and balanced them easily in his big arms. He came over and set the pitcher on the coffee table between us, smiling happily. He filled the mugs sloppily, humming.
“You... what... you said... our mother?” Peter choked, unable to stop staring.
“Bacchus,” Miya explained. “Communication between the living and the dead.”
“Technically, Dionysis is the god of wine.”
He snapped his big fingers. The water in the pitcher turned a deep, thick purple. I blinked hard. The little mugs, too, had filled with a sweet smelling liquid.
“Which is not a problem either,” he grinned.
“Thanks!” Miya said, reaching forward to take a mug.
“Not you,” he barked, snapping his fingers again. The liquid in her mug turned back to water.
“Our mother?” Peter repeated. He had barely noticed a thing.
“Yeah, she's worried out of her damn mind, making me check that you two are ok. Marc's folks are fine, they're not freaking out. They see him, they're satisfied. Not a problem. They aren't even worried that he just got...” Bailey's face darkened. “SHOT?! Miya, you shot him?!” Miya groaned.
“Bailey, it was an accident,” she justified.
“Are you kidding? You don't shoot people, Miya, we're not hillbillies. I'm takin' the arrows. You don't get any more arrows.” She groaned.
“That's fine, Bailey, but can you just chill for a second. They're gonna stroke out.” She looked at us with worried eyes. I could only imagine that our mouthes were hanging open.
“Oh,” he said. He sat down in a chair near the rest of us. He scratched his head. “Um... I... I'm... Bailey. I... man... uh... I'm a Gemini. I like... um... I'm twenty two... I... Seriously, I got nothin'. Let's just go.” Miya jumped to her feet.
“I...” Haylee just stared at Bailey.
“Come on. Let's do it.” Bailey patted his knee like he was encouraging a particularly slow dog. Marc rose.
“This has been the weirdest day,” Marc mumbled. I got to my feet slowly.
“Bailey, seriously, you want to put some clothes on?” Miya rose her eyebrows high.
“You don't even want to know how dirty my clothes are. I wore your shirt yesterday, Miya. It's getting desperate.” He looked down at Peter and Haylee. “Alright. Let's go.”
“How does this work?” Miya asked Marc.
“I... you just hold on to me,” he muttered. I took his hand without thinking, he squeezed it softly.
“Come on, kiddo,” Bailey said.
He scooped Miya up with one arm and sat her on his hip like a child. She just rolled her eyes with love. Bailey clapped a bear paw around the back of Marc's neck. Peter and Haylee rose with a sigh and grabbed a hold of Marc. With a breath, the room spun away.

vanished

Well, hello. Here's a rather long one, you'll have to forgive me. There is a little story between the last episode and this next piece. Mostly, they all sit together and share a meal. Marc stares into space, Dakota pines, and the twins agree to join them on their quest. As they set out, Dakota learns that Anna can help her find the others. The search is a little like a hunt. But I’m skipping all that, and getting to the journey. After all, I promised you action. : )

As we approached, we saw a man sitting in the front yard, leaning easily up against a tree. He whistled a happy tune, tapping his toe in the air. He was carving something in his hand, brown and gold catching the light through the branches. He had a cowboy hat resting on his short reddish hair, the brim tipped down over his face. Stubble shadowed his square jaw, his big hands working with precision. His bare arms were permanently tanned from many days out in the sun. I felt the air around him. Sharp and steely, but keen and careful. There was a stillness about it, a sort of peace. He certainly meant us no harm. He didn't even look up as our footsteps met the sidewalk ten feet away from where he was resting, his eyes on the project in his rough hands.
“Howdy folks,” he said cheerfully. His voice was deep and strong, his breathing smooth.
He tilted his head, the shadow from the brim of his hat disappearing from his face. He was handsome, younger than I might have guessed. Maybe in his thirties. His face was untroubled, warm and friendly. His eyes were a brilliant green, but strange. Gold and jade, with flecks of honey like the sun shining through a shallow pool. They seemed to take in the light from all around us, reflecting it back like glass. He smiled easily. It was a smile that made you want to take a comfortable breath. He got to his feet, stamping his boots to dust himself off. He looked toward Haylee and Anna and I, his eyes sparkling. He lifted his hat.
“Evenin', ladies. Lovely to make your acquaintance. Ya'll have to remind me of your names, I've never been much for rememberin' my dreams.” He smiled again, I found myself mirroring the gesture, as odd as it felt on my face.
“Dakota,” I said. He raised an eyebrow. “Er, Demeter.” He nodded.
“Haylee,” she curtsied sweetly. “Hestia.”
“Anna,” she nodded. “Artemis.” He took his hat off.
“'N I'm Hector,” he said with a grin. “Haphaestus. God of crafting, for those of you not up to standards on your Greek mythology.” He chuckled, turning his eyes on the boys.
“Adam,” he smiled. “Apollo.”
“Peter,” he nodded. “Poseidon.” Marc took a step forward. Hector held up his hand.
“I know who you are, Marc,” he said, his smile brightening. He held up the brown shape he had been working on, handing it over. “There ya' go, Hermes. Hope they fit. Didn't know your size an' all that.”
Marc took the shape carefully into his hands, his eyes wide. They were soft brown shoes, laced neatly up the front. Resting at the ankle of each was a pair of bright golden wings. They sat still in the dusk light, glittering in the sun. The shoes looked professionally made, perfectly crafted. They would fit like a glove, I knew just looking at them. They were beautiful.
“Thank you,” Marc breathed, staring at the shoes.
“That'll help us get up that dang old mountain. Big bastard. 'Scuse my language, ladies, but ya'll know it's true.” He chuckled.

The next bit is a lot of talking, mostly about how to use the shoes. It turns out, Hector explains, that they serve as a sort of amplifier for what Marc could already do. Essentially, if Marc can imagine a place (really see it in his mind) he can vanish to it. Like teleporting. The important part comes next. Hector tells Marc that he can take anyone with him. If he’s touching them the way he vanishes things, and sees the place, he can go. He can go anywhere.

A door slammed open across the room. Marc appeared again, his breathing rapid. I looked to his face, anxious to catch another of his rare smiles. Though the image made my heart throb, I pined after his happiness. I could almost feel whole if he was smiling. But when his gaze met mine, my stomach dropped. His eyes were wide, his jaw clenched. Big tears streamed down his face. He pushed off from the door frame and raced toward me. He caught my shoulders and pulled me into his arms, hugging me fiercely. My head spun and my heart raced, my pulse beating against his. He pulled his hands into my hair, his lips touching my cheek, breathing my name into my ear.
“Dakota,” he choked. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
“I... Marc...”
I couldn't catch my breath. I wanted to shove him away, to leave him like he left me. But all I could feel was his strong arms around me, his happy heartbeat, his breath against my skin.
“Don't you see?” He was still whispering, searching my face. “I can bring you back. If Haden took you, I could follow. I could bypass the river, vanish us both out. I wouldn't have to take you through. I can protect you. All of you. I can keep you safe.” He held me against his chest, breathing deeply to calm his sobs.
My heart was cold, heavy and frozen. It wasn't fair of him to fake affection in his excitement. He left. He was already gone. Now he could just get away faster. I bit my lip but the tears flowed down my face. I took a step back. It was physical pain to break the embrace. It was colder where our skin didn't touch. Everything was ice. He looked at my face, confused by my stony expression. I took a shallow breath.
“I'm so happy for you,” I whispered. The sound was shaky.
“Dakota,” he breathed, his face confused. He reached out for me. I took a quick step back, shaking my head.
“Don't.” My voice was barely a whisper. The tears fell without pausing. “You don't have to.”
Adam gasped. I whirled in his direction as the air changed. His normal breathing felt like a song against the room, now it was screeching to a stop. His breath ground against my skin, pulsing with fear. He had one hand raised out in front of him, his eyes held shut. His sister was calling his name, shaking his arm, but I couldn't hear her. All I could hear was the roar of his racing heart, the screaming of his terrified breath. He opened his eyes, looking at nothing. A thin rim of fire seemed to blaze like the sun around his gray irises. “Run,” he breathed.
The glass blew in from every window in the house. Everyone ducked, Peter throwing his arms over Haylee's head. The big picture window in the living room looked out over the yard and the empty street. Darkness had fallen on the sidewalk in front of the house. I stared through the open space, my lungs closed. The street was filled with shadows. I had never seen so many, never imagined. The shadow people lined every inch of the road, rolling up onto the sidewalk like waves, their red eyes pulsing in the dark. The low moon illuminated their shivering forms, rolling forward toward the house. Someone was screaming.
“Everybody grab on to Marc!” Hector roared.
I hadn't noticed how loud it was until Hector had to roar over the sound. The shadow people were rumbling, growling in anticipation. The sound was like a constant boom of thunder, shaking everything. Peter grabbed an arm, holding Haylee against Marc's side. Anna and Adam went behind and wrapped their arms around his middle. Hector bent low and wrapped a thick brown hand around Marc's ankle. The air moved behind me, back in the street. I turned toward the sensation.
The shadows were parting like a sea. A little light was making its way through the center of the darkness, moving toward the house. As it got to the sidewalk, I realized what it was. It wasn't a light, but a full head of curly blond hair. Haden stepping into the yard, locking eyes with me. He grinned, raising a hand in greeting. Fear covered my skin.
I thought about things that were easy. The wind in the trees, the blooming of flowers, the unchanging direction of streams. I thought about things that were never left behind. I thought about death.
Marc held a hand out to me. I looked back at Haden, making his way easily up the grass, the shadows trailing behind him. I turned back to Marc. He stretched his arm toward me, his palm up. I touched my skin to his hand. An image filled my mind. I floated weightlessly on a fog river. Nothing hurt. Nothing was heavy. My eyes were closed, my body limp. I felt whole and happy and peaceful. It was easy. I pulled my hand back. I had one image of Marc's face, shocked and hurt. I heard Adam screaming. Marc filled his lungs to yell my name, reaching out to grab me. And then they disappeared. Everything was still.
“Dakota,” Haden said cheerfully from the open front window. His caramel eyes were warm, his face bright. “It's lovely to see you again.”

Well, Haden and Dakota have a chat. I don’t want to include the whole thing here, though it is pretty significant. But it is also fifteen pages long, and I’d rather not make you suffer through it. Instead, I will give you the highlights. The bottom line is: Haden is convincing Dakota that Marc has fooled them all.

“You tried to take me,” I choked. Unbelievably, a tear rolled down Haden’s cheek.
“I thought that if I could just show you. Just take you there, to the underworld, that you would change your mind. It was foolish, I know. But I wasn't thinking clearly. I thought that if you could just see it, see how I fit there, you'd know the truth. I would have brought you back if you refused. If you still wouldn't... have me. But I hoped that once you saw who I really was, once you saw my meadow, you'd know how safe you could be. How much I have loved you.”
“What?” I wasn't sure if he could even hear me, the breath still wasn't coming.
“I love you, Dakota. Endlessly. I've dreamt of you every day of this new life. When I saw you in the woods, I could hardly believe it. But I couldn't tell you there, in front of everyone, knowing how dangerous it would be.”
“Dangerous?”
“With him there. I can't forgive myself for leaving you alone with him. It's a miracle he didn't hurt any of you. He's so volatile.”
“He isn't,” I breathed.
“He is, Dakota. He's sick. He killed our mother.”
“It was an accident.”
“God! I could drown in that word, 'accident'! He's sick. Do you understand? My mother wouldn't buy him a video game, while they were out shopping. When they were back in the car and she turned out onto the highway, he covered her eyes. A woman driving next to them tried honking, to frighten him. But he held on, smiling. She was killed in the crash, because she wasn't wearing her seatbelt. My mother never forgot her seatbelt. But he was unharmed. He was twelve, Dakota. They put him away. They couldn't keep him, because he was so young. They medicated him and let him out. He dropped out of school when he was sixteen, high on more drugs than I can bare to believe. Later, he told me that he dropped out because he got some girl pregnant. She disappeared.”
“Stop.”
“No, Dakota, listen to me! You have to know! After he got arrested for possession he showed up in New York, said Dad wouldn't take him back. He said he was clean, said he wanted a new life. What could I do? He's always been that way, perfectly charming. He begged me. I couldn't turn him away, I believed him. Everyone does. And after everything, I loved my brother. I would have died for him. So I let him stay. I even threw him a birthday party.” Haden scoffed, his eyes flashing with anger. It felt like the gears in my mind were screaming, grinding against each other.
“No.” I shook my head again, unaware of the action.
“Do you see, Dakota? He's sick. He'll never get better. Only worse. He lies like it's his nature, he believes what he's saying. You have to believe me. Nothing he has told you is true.”
“He... he said he loved me.” It had been my fear all along that it couldn't be true.
“No. I love you. I've loved you always.” He reached his hand out to me and I flinched away. His face twisted, more tears falling. “Don't,” he choked. “Please believe me.”
“I... I...” I pushed back against the couch, wanting to fade into the fabric.
I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. It wasn't true. None of it could be true. Marc was good. He was honest and soft and selfless. He had loved me. Hadn't he? We had held each other and laughed and he had blushed and stammered and been beautiful. Hadn't he? I couldn't remember. What had happened, what had I dreamed? What had been real and what had I been convincing myself of? He couldn't have loved me, I had always known that. But, at least, I thought he had been real. I thought I had known a little bit of him. Had I? Had it all been a lie? All been an act? No.
“Dakota,” Haden whispered, his voice soft and choked.
I met his warm brown eyes and saw him for the first time, really saw him. His curly blond hair was tangled, as if he had pushed his fingers through it anxiously. His eyes were bright, wet with tears. The brown there was warm and honest, and I noticed a light rim of blue around his irises. His face was open, his eyebrows pulled together. The little lines of worry fanned out across his forehead, stubble shadowed his jaw. It was familiar. It wasn't the same, but it was close. If you thought hard enough, you could maybe even pretend it was the same. But it wasn't. It wasn't. Haden stretched out his hand.
“Haden,” I whispered, the cold air around him choking my lungs. My fists were balled up and pressed into the carpet. I couldn't make them reach out to his familiar hand. But I wanted to.
“I would never hurt you, Dakota. Please. Trust me.” His eyes were wide as I looked down at his hand. My fists loosened.
The air shivered beside me, parting the cold. I turned my head, heavy and slow, toward the sensation. A sound like a growl slipped through Haden's clenched teeth, a low rumble sounded from the street. Marc flashed into existence a few feet away, his fists clenched. His eyes raked the room, landing on me. His face flooded with relief and he stepped toward me. Without thinking, I cringed away. Marc stopped in the middle of a step, hurt and confused.
“Ouch, bro,” Haden whispered, still sitting calmly across from me. Marc's hurt and confusion filled with anger and suspicion.
“What did you tell her?” Marc growled.
“The truth, Marc. She deserves to know.” Marc took another step toward me, never even looking at his brother.
“Dakota,” he begged, his eyes burning. “Don't believe a word he says.”
“I was just telling her the same about you.” Haden's voice was calm and cold.
“Take my hand.” Marc reached out to me.
“Don't touch her,” Haden spat.
“Dakota, you know me. Come with me. Come home.”
“Don't let him hurt you,” Haden was squatting again, his hand still reaching for me.
“I would never hurt her!” Marc roared, finally turning on his brother.
“You already did,” Haden said, looking only at me. Marc looked between us, confused.
“She knows how much I love her,” Marc whispered, sounding unsure.
“Do you, Dakota?” Haden asked, brown eyes burning.
“I...” The two halves of my heart pulled painfully in opposite directions. “No,” I breathed. Marc groaned, his hands pulling through his hair.
“Dakota, come with me,” Haden said, his voice eager.
“I can't,” I cried. My heart, how was it possible? It felt on fire, crushed, freezing.
“You can!” His hand inched forward. Marc knelt beside me.
“Please,” I begged. My heart couldn't take it.
“Dakota, look at me.” Marc's voice was thick.
“Take my hand, Dakota.”
“Look at me.”
“Don't listen to him.”
“I'm warning you, 'Den!” Marc shouted.
“This is it!” Haden roared back. My ears rang. “This is the choice you forced her to make!”
“Dakota,” Marc begged. “Look at me.”
I turned my eyes to him, hardly knowing what I should expect to feel. His face was tormented and pained. His eyes were burning, full of tears. He reached his hand out, his breath catching.
“My life,” he whispered.
I reached out without even thinking. As my palm touched his, everything shifted. The sensation was that of being rolled by a huge, deadly wave. There was no water, so I could breathe, but it felt more natural to gasp. A giant wave of cloud and fog seemed to toss and batter me. I was dimly aware of the painful grip crushing my other wrist, but I was most aware of the warm palm against mine. My thoughts seemed to move at high speed in this whirling air. The palm made a thousand images flash behind my eyes. Marc's hair full of sunlight, his laughing eyes, his blushing ears, his heel rubbing against his jaw, his surprised laughter, his soft touch, his lips on mine. The crushing grip at my other wrist tightened, and another reel played through my mind. My conversation with Haden rolled by like an old video on fast forward. He's the best liar. He's dangerous. Volatile. He killed our mother, he covered her eyes. Got some girl pregnant. Trust me.
Everything lurched to a sickening halt. My knees sank into the familiar desert sand and the sudden heat choked me. Even in the dull, moonlit darkness I gasped against the thick air. Marc stood above me, a little sparse tree that I recognized behind him. Haden was kneeling next to me, finally releasing my wrist, his grin aimed at his brother. I felt my head swimming as the warm palm pulled me out of the way. Marc lifted his foot slowly, hiking his knee toward the starlit night sky. The air parted as he shoved it forward, the bottom of his winged shoe connecting with a terrifying crunch against his brother's nose. Haden grunted as blood poured into the sand. Marc never let go of my hand. Then we disappeared.
I gasped as cold air hit my face. Where the heat had just been burning, cold forest mist beaded against my skin. I had a second to recognize the trees around me, the sheer rock face climbing into the clouds. Then another warm hand grabbed my arm and shoved me against the stone wall.
“Hurry, get up against the mountain,” Peter breathed into my ear.
“It won't work,” Haylee groaned under her breath from somewhere beside me, her voice full of fear.
“Yes it will,” Peter muttered in a rush. “I saw it in his face when I asked him about the mountain before; he won't be able to touch it.”
Marc stepped in front of me, covering my body with his. He pressed my back to the rock wall until it was hard to breath. I turned my head slightly to see Peter pressing in beside me. Haylee was next to him, Hector pressed protectively over one of her shoulders. Anna and Adam, too, were crowded against the rock on my other side. We looked like frightened escapees, finally cornered by dogs.
Haden appeared in the air in front of us, one hand covering his bleeding nose. I could see him grin around his fingers. He locked eyes with me, all the softness was gone. He rushed forward, reaching a hand out for me. About two inches from Marc and I, his fingers blurred into fog. Haden gasped and pulled his hand back. He growled and reached forward again, this time at the level of his brother's throat. His hand misted, seeming to float away in long tendrils. He roared and paced in front of us. One last time he reached out with both hands, aimed with violent force at Marc. A few inches away, he halted as if being shoved back, the hair standing up on his arms while the fog enveloped him. He yanked his hands back with another violent grunt.
He slid into a crouch, pulling a tattered baseball cap from his back pocket. His eyes met mine, glorious and wild. His lips were turned up into a snarling grin. He lifted the cap over his head. “Wrong choice,” he spat. The cap flattened his curls and he was gone.
Marc let his breath out loudly. I became aware that I was trembling, my teeth chattering. Haylee moaned softly, relaxing a little. My head felt like it was under a pillow, floating and muffled. I tried to shift my weight, but Marc held me firmly in place against the mountain behind us. He reached his arms out, staying close to the rock.
“Everybody grab on,” he said.
“Stay against the mountain,” Peter added.
I tried to reach for one of his hands, but they were stretched too far away. Haylee and Peter wrapped a hand around one wrist, Hector taking Marc's palm like a hand shake. Adam and Anna hugged his other arm. “Dakota,” Marc growled. I wrapped both arms around his middle with a sigh, trying not to think about it. Of course, I failed miserably, reveling in his scent and the warmth of his skin. We disappeared.

the Adonis

This is just a little after our last encounter. All you've missed, really, is Dakota mourning. You get the picture. They decide to push forward and search for the others. The first place they come to is a little farm house tucked away against the woods. When they get there, they hear shouts coming from behind the house. Then, strange things start happening in the sky.

It had been nearly noon, the sun hanging high in the middle of the sky. Suddenly, it was setting. I blinked hard, unsure of what was happening. But there it was, burning in the west, hovering over the horizon. The sky was dimmer, orange where the clouds reflected the sinking sun. The moon was rising quickly, racing up into the sky. Another shout. This one female. I took a step into the field. I shivered to be unprotected by the trees. The air moved as Marc grabbed for me, missing by an inch. I almost smiled. I was going to be brave. I would prove myself to him, if nothing else. I could just make out their voices, pulsing in the air.
“Anna! They're here! Knock it off!” This was the man's voice.
“Stay here!” the female grunted.
“Let me go!” More sounds of struggling. The sun pushed higher again, straining toward noon. The moon kept climbing.
“You can't know that they won't hurt us!” the girl's voice squeaked.
“Anna!” he whined. “That's exactly what I can do!” I took another step forward.
“Hello?” I called. My voice was high and strong. I was almost proud. The girl gasped.
“Adam, please. It's a trap. Don't go!” The sun was almost directly over head, a breath away from the round moon.
“We won't hurt you,” Peter called. His gruff voice didn't exactly sound reassuring as he stepped out beside me. His palms were facing out in front of him. I pushed them down.
“Come on, Anna!” the boy said.
The sun covered the moon above our heads. For a moment, there was just this strange soft of eclipse, then a blinding light exploded from behind the house. I threw my hands up to shield my eyes. A bright white light, rounding out higher than the house, blazed in the distance. It moved out into the open. The center was almost impossible to look directly at, the brightest point of the light. Two figures stood in the middle, hand in hand. The light moved toward us across the field, burning brighter as it came. They stopped a few yards off, still clasping hands.
“Hello, friends!” the cheerful male voice called.
“Can you cut that light, kid!” Peter shouted. Haylee was shielding her eyes behind her brother's back.
“Oh. Sorry, Peter.” The light vanished.
Two young figures stood in front of us. I took them in while little black dots floated along each blink. They were still holding hands, the boy smiling cheerfully and the girl looking pained. I had thought that Haylee and Peter looked similar; it was nothing compared to these two. They were the exact same height, with the same build. The girl had a slight curve to her hips, and the differences ended there. They were both wearing all white, their identical gray eyes curious. Their light blond hair was the same color and texture, his buzzed close to his head and hers falling to her chin. They couldn't have been more than eighteen, if that. I couldn't remember having ever seen two people who were so much the same.
“I'm so glad you're here!” the boy called, smiling widely. Adam, had the girl said? He looked up at the sky, the sun still covering the moon. “Anna,” he whispered, nudging the girl. She looked up too. With a sigh, the moon fell slowly to slip beneath the horizon.
“Wow,” Haylee breathed.
“Thanks, Haylee,” the boy called. “We think it's cool too.” Haylee's eyebrows rose up her forehead.
I hadn't taken my eye off of the girl. Her face was terrified, her eyes filled with tears. She was gripping the boys hand roughly, her breathing rapid. I felt the air around them, taking them in. The air around the boy was hard to place. His breath seemed to... sing. That was the only way to describe it. It fell around him like music notes, soft and easy. There was no fear. The girl was different. Her quick breath shot out like arrows, fast and steady. She was afraid, tears leaking from her gray eyes.
“You know who we are?” Marc interrupted.
“I do,” the boy answered, smiling proudly.
“How?” Peter asked.
“I can-”
“Guess,” the girl cut him off, her eyes darting around. “He guessed.” The boy looked at her warmly.
“It's ok, Anna. They're friends.” He looked back at us. “I can see the future.” He smiled.
“Well that's useful,” Peter exhaled happily.
“Apollo,” Marc breathed. Adam looked surprised.
“That's right,” he said. His shoulders were squared proudly.
“The god of prophecy,” Marc said. “We were great friends once.”
“Maybe again. I can't see that yet.” The boy smiled warmly.
“That must make you...” Haylee began, looking at the girl.
“Artemis,” she whispered.
“Would you like to come inside?” the boy asked. The pair turned and made their way toward the house. Peter shrugged and we followed.
The big sitting room was about the last thing I had expected. Trophy heads hung on every spare surface: boars, bear, deer, even something that looked like it might have been a lion. A huge glass case sat in the corner, long rifles and shot guns glimmered in the sun. The pair sat on the couch, still hand in hand, looking expectantly at us. We stood in a tight line across from them, taking in the slightly terrifying surroundings.

So there were six. The twins try to be as hospitable as they can, despite their house of horrors. So Anna does what she does best: hunt.

We filed outside slowly, our eyes scanning in rotation. Adam stopped on the grass and we stood beside him. Anna was a few yards ahead, lowering herself down on one knee. The field stretched out for miles, coming to connect again with the forest a long way off. The line of trees was just a blur of green from this distance. Anna lifted her rifle quickly, peering over the barrel with one eye closed. A shot rang out. Haylee jumped. Anna slung the gun over her shoulder again and walked off toward the forest.
“What was it, Anna?” her brother called.
“A deer,” she answered cheerfully.
“She couldn't... she didn't actually hit something,” Marc choked.
“Of course. She's the goddess of the hunt,” her brother answered.

All things considered, they spend their afternoon pretty comfortably in each other's company. Marc won't look at Dakota, of course, but she tries to put on a smile for their newest additions. Anna and Adam happily agree to join them on their search for the others, as soon as they've enjoyed Anna's meal. But Peter has to get a little fun in first.

Haylee and I were across the room, looking out the window at Adam in the yard. “That is disgusting,” I gagged. Though, it was impressive, I had to admit.
Adam sliced through the deer's skin with quick, delicate movements. He had lifted the fur off in a matter of minutes, and had moved on to extracting the insides. He had splattered blood over his clean white shirt and removed it, the warm sun now shining off of his pale skin. I surveyed his strong arms, slick with blood up to the elbow. I gagged again. Haylee leaned closer to me. “He's, like,” she whispered, searching for the words, “ripped, isn't he?”
Haylee had a point. Adam's young age did not distract from the appearance of his shirtless form. His chest and stomach were perfectly chiseled, his arms thick and sculpted. The shape of his back was flawless, the muscles pulling and flexing tightly. His perfect boyish face was furrowed in concentration, sweat dripping down his neck. I shrugged.
“Oh, it's so wrong,” Haylee groaned, closing her eyes. “He's too young, I can't watch.”
“He's not that much younger than you, Haylee,” I whispered back.
“I'm a nasty old cougar,” she wailed under her breath.
“What are we talking about?” Peter whispered, putting his head between mine and Haylee's to look out the window. He glanced at Adam hunched over the deer. “Oh,” he said, nodding. “Shame on you two.” Haylee whimpered softly.
“Leave me out of this,” I said.
“No offense, but I think I might have a better chance than either of you,” Peter said, still watching the bloodied youth. Haylee gasped at her brother.
“No way,” she breathed.
“Oh ho, yes,” Peter chuckled.
“You are out of your mind,” Haylee said. He turned his eyes on her, challenged.
“You think I'm wrong?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“There's no way,” Haylee said, folding her arms.
“Watch carefully,” Peter said, straightening up.
Peter pulled his shirt off as he walked toward the back door. I covered my mouth to hide my laughter, Haylee gasped, and Anna didn't look up from her gun. She lifted one hand silently to shield her eyes from Peter's form. He slipped through the back door. Haylee and I turned eagerly toward the window. Peter came into view outside. He was not in bad shape himself, if we were being fair. A little less carved than the youth perhaps, but more muscular. The sun was warm against his tan skin, his thick arms flexed as he stretched in the light. He made his way to the little pond.
Adam glanced up at Peter from his work. He looked back at the meat again. “Ah ha!” Haylee cheered. Adam's head snapped back toward Peter. “Oh no,” she breathed. It was a clear double take. Adam's eyes widened, his neck flushed. He sat back a little, stunned. Peter walked past without looking, a tiny grin on his face. Adam's eyes raked over Peter's chest, scanning him from head to foot as he paraded by. He was holding his breath. Peter kicked his shoes off and slid gracefully into the water. Adam took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. He bent over his work again, peaking up at every few seconds Peter as he swam.
“Is Peter flirting with the Adonis?” Marc asked, bending over to watch too.
“No,” Haylee sighed, defeated. “He's proving a point.”

leaving

Hello. :) I am attempting to force myself to complete this crazy, amazing, mad, thrilling project this month. I figured when better than NaNoWriMo? I'm getting closer every day, and I can feel it. Thanks for hanging in there.

This next bit comes right after the last. It's a tad sentimental, but there's some action coming up. Be patient. :) Haylee, Peter, Marc, and Dakota decide that they should begin their search for the others. But first, they should probably get out of the house, since Haden has promised to come back for them. But, while Peter and Haylee are in the other room, Marc makes a confession.

“What is it about me?” Marc said. I was unsure for a moment whether or not he was talking to himself. “What is it about me that makes me perfectly incapable of protecting the things that are mine?” He laughed, but the sound was empty, his face blank. “My mother. My father. You. I can love them as much as I want, watch over them. But they slip through my fingers when I turn away for just a second. Looking out the car window. Investigating a sound in the street. Stepping into the shower. I have to look away eventually, to blink. But that's enough time to ruin everything.” The air was heavy. I didn't know what to say. Was everything ruined?
“Marc,” I whispered.
“Haden will know. He'll know about Peter, about you healing him. He'll put the pieces together.” Marc turned his tortured blue gaze on me. “He'll know that you're the only one who can't be healed. I would run as fast as I could, Dakota. But it wouldn't be enough. There wouldn't be anyone waiting on the other side to bring you back. I'd lose you.” He closed his eyes for a long time. “So he'll come for you last. Not Peter this time. Not any of the others. He'll take them, of course. To have them out of the way. But he'll wait for you. Because he knows I will follow, and this time it wouldn't matter. The exchange isn't my life, after all. It's yours. Because it's the same thing.”
I crossed the room and knelt in front of him. I took his hands in mine but he pulled them away, his eyes shut tightly. There had to be something I could say, some way to comfort him. But he was right. That was the bottom line. He was absolutely right. I was the only one that I couldn't heal. If Haden took me, I'd stay there forever. Even if Marc could bring my body back through the river, it wouldn't matter. Haden would win. But if that was inevitable, if my death was the final motion, maybe I had a little time. Maybe I could save the rest of them before it was too late for me.
“Eventually,” Marc whispered, his eyes closed. “Eventually, I'll have to blink, Dakota. And you'll be gone.”
“We can stop him, Marc,” I said. The voices had told me that it was possible to beat him. There was a way, even if it would be hard.
“I don't see how,” Marc whispered. “He didn't even kill Peter. He just locked him up in plain sight, right where I could find him. He knew that I'd follow. He knew that the only way out was through the river. He made me take him that way. He made me kill him myself. I can't bring anyone through that river alive, I can barely bring myself...” Marc was staring out at nothing.
“Then we'll fight him above ground,” I said. “We'll get to the others first, bring them back to the mountain. It's safe. I don't know why, but it is. We'll buy some time. We'll wait. We'll have a plan.”
“Then I'll find them myself,” Marc said. “I'll bring them back and you stay here at the mountain. You'll be safe without me.”
“I go where you go,” I repeated.
“You can't stay with me, Dakota!” he shouted. The air seemed to split apart. He meant more than he was saying, I could tell as his eyes rimmed with tears. What did he mean?
“I...” I couldn't find any words. He closed his eyes.
“It's better that way,” he breathed. “You'll be so much safer without me. Happier. I can't protect you. It isn't fair to drag you down with me. I won't hurt you.”
“You are hurting me,” I whispered. I wasn't sure he heard.
“You'll be alright. You don't need me. There are more of us out there, you'll have company. Maybe Peter-”
“What?!” I nearly shouted. Marc didn't meet my outraged glare.
“He can keep you safe,” Marc said. His voice was barely a whisper as he stared out into the night. “You'd be happier with him.”
“You're insane,” I growled. It was one thing to leave me, I had expected that. It was another thing to pair me. To hand me off. Did he think I could possibly feel about anyone else the way I felt about him?
“I know you can't picture it now.” He didn't look like he wanted to picture it either. “But you'll fit with him.”
“Impossible,” I whispered.
“It isn't. I dreamed it.” Marc had an empty sort of smile. “The way it's supposed to be.”
“You're wrong. I can't believe you're saying this.”
“It will be easy, to fall into his arms.” He swallowed hard
“No,” I whispered. I wasn't sure what I was protesting to. He looked at me, his face tortured. I climbed to my feet.
“Dakota,” he said. I shook my head.
“I understand.” It was my turn to close my eyes. “I don't blame you.”
“Dakota, please.” He got to his feet too.
“You don't want me.” The words were hard, but not impossible. I had said them many times. Marc choked on the heavy air around us. “But the rest isn't up to you. You can leave me, that's your choice. But there are other people involved. You don't get to decide for all of us. They deserve a say.”
I turned my back on Marc. This action was almost harder than anything else that had passed in the last hours. I made my way toward the bedroom, each step forward taking careful thought and concentration. I could feel sobs pushing up against my chest. But not yet. There would time soon enough to mourn. I had business first.
“Where are you going?” Marc choked from behind me. I didn't turn.
“To wake the others.”

So, she explains to the others that Marc wants her to stay behind. Peter and Haylee obviously protest. They agree to stay together to seek out others, though Marc isn't happy about it. Dakota, devastated, tries to have a moment to herself but overhears a whispered conversation.

I spun toward the bathroom. Please let me make it before the tears came. I passed through the doorway and shut the door behind me. I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs. That was the last thing I wanted now, for everyone to hear my rejected tears. I sat heavily on the floor. I couldn't control it, I couldn't concentrate enough to block them out. Haylee breathing in the kitchen. Marc and Peter facing each other in the living room. Everything was confused. Hurt. Troubled. Angry. Peter walked toward Marc, stopping in front of him.
“What are you doing?” Peter demanded.
“I have to keep her safe,” Marc was almost silent. Peter grabbed the collar of Marc's shirt, pushing him roughly into the wall.
“You saved my life. I can't ask any more of you. But let me make myself clear. If you hurt Dakota, I will hurt you. I won't like it. I won't enjoy myself. But I will hurt you.”
“I'm hurt enough,” Marc whispered. Peter walked away.
A soft knock came on the door. I tried to take a breath to tell them to go away, but I couldn't. I was just quiet instead. “Dakota, I'm coming in,” Peter called. The knob turned and the door cracked open. Of course I hadn't locked it. This day could probably not get any worse. I took the thought back as soon as it came into my mind. My life never ceased to surprise me. It could always get worse. Peter sat down in front of me, tucking my hair behind my ear. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
“How you doing, kid?” he asked. I almost laughed.
“Fine,” I said.
“How are you really doing?” His face was filled with concern. I bit back a sob.
“I feel like I might die,” I whispered.
“I wouldn't recommend it,” Peter smiled sadly. He pulled me against his chest.
“What was it like?” I mumbled into his shirt.
“To die?” he asked. I nodded. He was quiet for a minute, rubbing my back. “It was easy,” he shrugged. He lifted my face. “This shit's harder,” he said. I laughed between tears. “It's going to be alright. Do you know that?”
“I don't see how,” I whispered.
“Trust me.” He hugged me tightly and pulled me to my feet.

a trade

after their little episode, Haden locks himself in a bedroom and refuses to come out. the others try to speak to him, but eventually give up and go to bed. in the night, Haden takes Dakota. Marc returns from the shower to their struggle just as Haden and Dakota vanish.

The cold morning hit my face like a slap. I was dimly aware of the arm around my throat, the tight fist in my hair. And then there was screaming. I came back to myself in a flash, hearing that familiar pain breaking through the dawn. I could see the little river whiz by as I was turned violently in the direction of the house. Marc appeared at the foot of the stairs, his entire body vibrating, a surge of violence filling the air.
“Come and get her,” Haden called from next to my ear. His deep voice had a smile in it as it rumbled against my chest. His lips touched my cheek. Marc stalked forward.
“I'll kill you,” he growled.
“Oh ho!” Haden laughed. “Kill your own brother?”
“Don't touch her.” His voice was like lead.
“I already am, bro. Did you miss it?” Haden caressed my face.
“Let her go,” Marc growled again, closing the distance.
“One more step and I vanish her,” Haden spat. Marc stopped in his tracks.
Cold crept over my body and I could feel a sensation of drifting apart. From the corner of my eye I saw my hair float out around me. The strands misted, fading into fog.
“STOP IT!” Marc screamed. The cold ceased.
“It seems that I'm very good at what I do, Hermes,” Haden chuckled darkly. Marc's eyes grew wide.
“Hades,” he whispered.
“In the flesh,” Haden answered.
“Please,” Marc choked, his face twisted in pain. “Please let her go.”
“Those thrones are pretty cool,” Haden ignored him. “I still don't know why you get one. Though I suppose you always did get the special seat.” His voice was hard.
“Next to mom?” Marc whispered.
“That's what we called it, didn't we? The seat by mom was the 'special' one.” There was a long pause. Haden's body shook against mine.
“Haden-” Marc said, concern coloring his tone.
“I can't find her, Marc,” he choked. Hot tears splattered against my shoulder. “I thought that was the point of all this. Why me? It must be to find her. I got a second chance and these abilities so that I could down and get her. Bring her back. But I can't.”
“That's because she was good, Haden!” Marc pleaded. “She's in a better place.”
“SHUT UP!” Haden roared. “Just shut up.” His body shook. “You killed her,” he whispered. The air was thick in the silence.
“It was an accident,” Marc breathed, shaking his head.
“You distracted her! You killed her. And I can't do anything.” Haden spit on the ground.
“We crashed, Haden. It was an accident. She was hurt.”
“And what did you do?!” Haden shouted. Tears slid down Marc's face.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “I didn't do anything.”
“Well, now I know what that feels like,” Haden breathed. “So then it must be you. You must be the reason.”
“Alright,” Marc choked. “Just don't hurt Dakota.” Haden tightened his arm around my throat.
“I'll do as I please,” he spat.
“Denny-” Marc pleaded.
“Why do you deserve her? I have nothing.”
“Don't do this. Don't hurt her.”
“I don't want to hurt her.” The smile was back in Haden's voice. “I want to hurt you. You killed mom. I kill you. That makes it fair.” I shook my head desperately but Haden's arm held me still. I drew shallow breaths, unable to speak or cry out. “Though, maybe when I'm finished, I'll take her with me.” Haden ran his nose along my neck. “She's not half bad.” A sob slipped through Marc's clenched teeth. “And she smells so good.” He brushed his face against my hair. “Like rain.”
Haden was quiet for a second before throwing me to the ground in front of him. I scrambled out from the path between the two brothers. The second I was clear, I sank to the ground, lacing my fingers into the grass. I concentrated on my breathing, on the slowing blood in my veins.
“Leave them out of this,” Marc said.
“For now,” Haden grinned.
“Stay away from my family,” Marc growled. Haden's face crumpled for an instant.
“When you're gone, I'll come back for them. I'll send the shadows, they won't be protected without you.” Haden smiled. “I'll find the others first. I'll save your family for last. Then my job will be done and I'll be free. Rid of you freaks and murderers.” Haden spit the last word at his brother.
“And what will that make you?” Marc asked. Haden smirked.
“The last one standing.” He slid forward into a crouch, his hands ready, like a wrestler. He motioned Marc forward. “Come on, little brother.”
Marc's body had begun to vibrate again, his face wet with tears. He clenched his jaw, tightening his fists. He took deep, rapid breaths. He bent into a crouch, lifting from the ground. He slid easily up into the air, hovering about a foot from the grass. His face was sad.
“She wouldn't have wanted this, Haden,” he whispered. Haden tightened his fists.
“We'll never know.” The world was holding its breath.
Peter launched himself at Haden. I hadn't noticed them, hadn't seen him inching closer. I had been concentrating on my attack, on focusing my mind to be ready for anything. The movement sparked from the corner of my vision. I heard Haylee gasp behind me. Peter kicked off from the ground, aimed perfectly at the crouching figure of Marc's older brother. Haden turned in his crouch as Peter came hurtling toward him. Haden's arms shot up, the muscles extending under his skin. Peter slammed into his open palms and disappeared. Haden dropped down, connecting his palms with the grass, and sank through the earth. Everything was silent.
Then Haylee screamed. It didn't ring in my ears like my own scream did, sharp and piercing. This was a keening sound, rough and low. It cut to my heart like a flame, tearing at everything. She slipped forward in the grass, sobbing at the empty space where her brother had vanished. “No,” she cried, again and again. “No, no, no.” I blinked rapidly trying to clear my head, trying to make sense of anything, trying to push her pain from my burning heart. “Please help me,” Marc whispered to no one, staring at the empty earth. I pulled Haylee into my arms where she curled against my chest. I looked to Marc for help. He took a step forward and turned back, his eyes closed, his face decided. He slid to the ground and laid his palms against the grass. I filled my lungs to scream at him, and he slipped through the earth.

Haylee and Dakota sit in the dark of the cabin, waiting. Haylee won't speak except to say, “He'll find him.” Dakota is less sure. After several hours, she falls asleep and dreams.

I pushed the big doors open, breaking the darkness. Warm light spilled out through the space into the thick air around me. The house was beautiful, breathtaking. I turned behind me for a moment. The sheer drop of the rock face slid into the clouds beneath me, falling down forever. The distance seemed simple to me now, worth everything. I turned back to the house. The light spread across my skin, fresh air fanned through the rooms. I walked through a big space, couches and chairs filled the floor, a large television set. The walls were almost all glass, the clouds pressing softly against the view. To my left, a huge kitchen. Sleek metal cabinets, a double stove and fridge, wide counters. A dining room with a huge round table. Fourteen chairs chairs tucked in, waiting.
I turned down a long hall. Many doors, all closed, each with a little plaque hanging on the wood. I read them all as I went, each name like a surge of happiness. Zeus, Juno, Hades, Mars, Minerva, Apollo, Artemis, Haphaestus, Dionysis, Venus, Poseidon, Hestia, Mercury, Demeter. They were all here. Excitement burst in my chest. Where is this place? I asked. It this Olympus? Will they all come? Where are they? How can we find them? Silence. There was no answer. Everything was quiet. Panic tightened in my chest. I was alone.
They're coming, the voices said. I gasped into consciousness. My head spun painfully as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Where was I? Which house? It was dawn, the dull light illuminating the little room. The empty fire place, the dark floorboards. Haylee's tiny form, breathing slowly. I caught the glint of the sun off the river and recognized where I was. They're coming, the voices rang out. I jumped to my feet.
“Haylee,” I meant to shout but the sound was barely a hoarse rasp. “Haylee!”
“What? What?” Haylee sat straight up, her eyes confused. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the back door.
The dawning morning was cold as we pushed through the door into the back yard. Our breath blew clouds across the air as I ran, towing Haylee behind me. I was headed toward the spot in the grass where they had disappeared.
“Dakota,” Haylee begged, out of breath. “Dakota, did it say something?”
“It said 'they', Haylee!” This was a shout. They. Marc had found Peter.
The air shifted suddenly, becoming heavy. I skidded to a stop, Haylee sliding into my back at my heels. A few feet ahead, the light began to churn. A mist was floating there, barely visible in the dim light. A ghostly fog crept across the grass. If it touched us, I knew only too well how it might feel against our skin. I held my breath. Haylee's hand clutched mine. Suddenly, like a heavy blow, my heart lurched. I gasped and grabbed my chest. A pain shot through my core like a cannon ball, tearing the muscles apart. Pain was everywhere.
“Dakota-” Haylee cried in panic.
A figure blurred into existence through the fog in front of us. Marc stumbled into view, gasping, Peter carried limply in his arms. Thick silver ribbons clung to them, falling into the grass and misting into nothing. Marc dropped to his knees and gathered Peter against his chest, rocking him. Marc screamed out against the cold air. Peter was still. Perfectly, painfully, lifelessly still.
“Peter,” Marc sobbed, pressing his face against Peter's neck. “I couldn't- I couldn't... I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm sorry, Peter...”
It couldn't be true. Haylee fell to her knees and dragged herself toward her brother's body. She clawed at his shirt, laying her hands against his face. I couldn't hear their sobbing. Marc was rocking, his shoulders shaking roughly. Haylee had buried her face in Peter's chest. But it couldn't be true. It wasn't possible. I pressed myself against the air, though the pain was almost too much to feel. Everything was hot where Haylee existed. Burning waves of grief, unbearably rough against my body. Marc's sobs weaved through the air, spinning and crashing against the light. Where Peter lay... there was nothing. Not the mist of his breathing or the bell of his laughter. Not the warmth of his hand in mine or the deep waves of happiness that constantly rolled toward his sister. There was only cold.
I lurched forward. Marc had fallen back, pulling his hands through his hair. I pushed Haylee from Peter's body, falling to my knees. I gathered him into my arms, his head falling heavily against my chest. He was too still. His chest didn't move, I couldn't feel a pulse under his frozen skin. This wasn't Peter. Peter was so many things! He was honest and loyal and fiercely unafraid. He was kind and strong and good. He had so much faith. There wasn't anything in his absence. Nothing could exist if his light was really gone from this world. I didn't want to be in a world without him. It wasn't right. It was unnatural. I pulled him to me.
Please, I begged. It was all I had. Please.
There will be a trade, the sad voices whispered.
Anything.

And so Dakota trades her ability to hear the earth in exchange for Peter's life. She gives up the guidance and wisdom and accepts the cost.

I gathered Peter tightly against my body, endless tears falling to the ground. I pressed his chest against mine, his cheek to my cheek. Haylee was wailing behind me. Marc was hugging his knees, rocking slowly, his eyes on the body in my arms. “It isn't time,” I whispered into Peter's ear. I willed my heartbeat into his, the warmth of my skin against his own. “There are too many storms we haven't weathered, Peter. Come back.” I hugged him tightly to myself, filling my mind with every laugh, every soft memory, every fiber of love that wove through me. “Come back.”
Peter gasped. His chest expanded violently, shoving against mine. I loosened my embrace as he choked and sputtered. I ran my hand through his hair again and again. His eyes spun wildly, his fists clenching. I didn't need to look away from his face; I could feel Marc's eyes wide with disbelief, feel Haylee's reluctance to hope. Peter's eyes met mine. I smiled despite the sobs that closed my throat.
“Oh, Dakota,” he breathed, understanding filling his face. He sat up and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
“Peter, Peter,” I crooned, reveling in the warmth of his skin, the strength of his touch, the rhythm of his heart.
“Thank you, Demeter,” he whispered into my ear.
“We need you,” I whispered back. It was more than true.
He released me and turned to his sister. Her eyes here huge, hot tears spilling onto her shirt. She shook her head, her hands quivering. “Haylee,” Peter whispered. He climbed to his feet and walked to her. She didn't move, didn't breath, just stared up at her returned brother with big eyes. He reached his hand down to her. “It's alright, Hal,” he said softly. “It's ok.” She reached out slowly and laid a tiny hand in his palm. He pulled her up to her feet. She trembled, laying her hands against his face. She crumpled into his chest, sobbing loudly. He whispered to her, his own tears falling, rubbing her back gently. I would have traded a thousand of my own lives to give them this moment.
A long time later, Haylee sat back in the grass, having cried herself hoarse. She seemed unsure of whether or not he was real, refusing to take her eyes off of her brother for a moment. Peter turned to Marc. He sat in the grass, his head in his hands, his blond hair tangled in his fingers. Peter knelt in front of him. Marc didn't move. Peter reached out and pulled his hands down. Marc closed his eyes, shaking his head, his wet eyelashes glittering in the new morning sun.
“Marc, look at me,” Peter demanded. The sound of his voice made Marc pull his knees up, his head shaking more violently. “Look at me!” Peter shouted. He took Marc's head in his hands. Marc opened his eyes, his face tortured.
“I'm sorry,” he mouthed, his voice silent.
“This is not your fault,” Peter said. Each word was a sentence. Marc shook his head. “This is not your fault!” Peter shook him slightly.
“I killed you,” Marc breathed.
“You saved me,” Peter corrected.
“He was right,” Marc choked. “I am a murderer. I killed you. I couldn't get you out fast enough. I dragged you through it. My brother was right-”
“Damn your brother, Marc!” Peter shouted. Marc shook his head numbly. “I'm your brother. Look at me! I'm your brother now. Do you understand? What he did... I would never do that to you. None of us would ever hurt you.” Marc stared with bright blue eyes. He nodded slowly.
“I tried-” he whispered.
“I owe you everything,” Peter said, his voice thick. “What you did down there... Everything.”
“I'm sorry,” Marc repeated.
“You did good,” Peter breathed, hugging Marc against his chest. Marc hugged Peter back tightly then pulled back to survey him. He laughed in between sobs, his eyes wide.
“You're really ok,” he said. Peter looked over his shoulder at me.
“Yeah,” Peter answered. “I am.” Haylee got to her feet.
“We'll see,” she said, though her voice was still heavy. She clapped her still shaking hands together in a business-like way. “You need... food. Or sleep. You need... we'll get you...” Her face fell and she sobbed again. Peter chuckled and went to her.
“Let's go inside,” he said. His smile was like home.
Peter walked into the house. Marc moved away, sitting at the edge of the river, contemplating. Haylee watched me for a moment before she approached. Her voice was low, her eyes warm.
“There are...” she began. She swallowed hard to continue. “There are no words to thank you for what you've done for us today.”
“Haylee,” I said, smiling. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”
“I do now,” she whispered.
“I would die for any of you, a hundred times.” She took a deep breath.
“No one else is dying today. Ok? Not today. Maybe tomorrow.” She walked off toward the house. “I need to cook something,” she muttered.
I looked toward the house with a smile. I turned back to Marc. His head was bowed slightly, his hair gleaming. I couldn't approach him, not yet. I could feel that much in the air around him. A desperate sort of sadness. Troubled hurt. Confused anger. I sat down in the grass where I was, perfectly in the middle. I would give him some time. I wouldn't even know where to begin. What would I say? I sighed, knowing I would find no answers to my questions. No guidance.
Miss you already, I thought. The breeze whispered softly through the trees. Everything else was quiet.

Cain and Abel

hello again. :) this next post comes directly after the last, so you haven't missed anything. let me know what you think.

Haden rushed forward at his name and pulled Marc against his chest in a tight hug. Peter backed away in one move, pulling Haylee behind him again. Peter's hands were still held out in front of him, ready. I was still holding my breath.
“Marc,” Haden choked. “You're alright.”
“What the hell is going on?” Peter demanded. Haden released Marc, who's face was stony.
“I'm Haden,” he said, grinning. His voice was deep and rough.
“And?” Peter asked, his hands still ready.
“He's my brother,” Marc choked.
“What?” Haylee whispered. Peter let his hands fall slightly, his palms still facing the newcomer.
“My brother,” Haden repeated, throwing one arm around Marc's shoulder. “Can't you see the resemblance?” He chuckled gruffly, mussing Marc's hair.
“No,” Peter mumbled under his breath.
But Peter was wrong, there was a resemblance. Any outsider who looked at them would guess at the relation. The siblings were similar. The same skin, the same hands, the same shape of the face. The hair was different, obviously. Marc's hair was paler, Haden's darker and thick with curls. And their eyes. Marc's crystal blue eyes were guarded and Haden's caramel eyes were warm. Haden stood slightly taller than his brother, Marc a little wider with muscle. Any onlooker would see that. But I wasn't any onlooker, not an outsider. I let myself float along the air around us, tasting the atmosphere.
I reached Haylee first. Her familiar temperature was warmer with happiness. She would be thrilled at the family reunion. Peter's breathing was deep, mist filling the air around him. Little waves of anger rolled from his body. He was still tensed for battle, still wary of the stranger. Marc was next. His breath dipped and dove through the air around him, his strong heart pounding strangely. Haden next. His breath was cold against my skin, like fog. It filled the space around him, thick like a wall. He was guarded, wary of Peter still standing in a crouch. Curious, too, at the little ball of flame resting in Haylee's hands. He turned his eyes on me. The fog was warmer for a moment as he took me in. His caramel eyes were playful, his face brightening into a smile, one hand flexed slightly. His gaze made my face warm, made it hard to concentrate. I pulled back to myself.
“Sorry if I scared you,” Haden said, turning his eyes on Peter's tight form.
“No harm, no foul,” Peter muttered.
“You can put those down,” Haden said, suddenly serious. His eyes were on Peter's open palms. Peter turned his hands away. “That,” Haden smiled again, no longer serious, “that is interesting.” He was gazing at Haylee's little fire.
“Thank you,” she said softly, bowing.
“Would you like to talk somewhere more comfortable?” Haden asked, gesturing in the opposite direction he had appeared from.
“What did you have in mind?” Peter growled.
“There's a cabin near by,” Marc muttered, his eyes on the ground.
“That's my place,” Haden said with a smile. “Well, not mine exactly, but I've been staying there.”
“We were there last night,” Peter said. “Where were you?”
“I've been exploring the area for a few days,” Haden said, looking around.
“Exploring the mountain?” Peter asked. Haden's face fell, his eyes darkening. I took a silent breath, not sure when I had stopped holding it.
“No,” Haden said in a low voice. “I've lost something.”
“Like what?” Peter pushed. Haden glared at him for a moment, then turned his face up into a smile.
“A hat,” he answered. “It was my mother's.” He tightened the arm around Marc's shoulders. “Our mother's.” He amended. He gestured again saying, “Shall we?”
“Our car is that way,” Haylee said, pointing behind us. I couldn't remember if that was actually the direction we had come in. Haden frowned.
“There's a path that goes to the cabin from here,” he said. “It's much easier going than the road.”
“But our car-” Peter started.
“Leave it,” Marc snapped, turning toward the direction his brother had indicated.
“This way,” Haden said happily, walking off into the darkness.
The path curved along the rock face, a narrow clearing between the wall and the trees. It weaved off into the night, illuminated slightly by Haylee's flame. Haden walked ahead, then Marc, then me, Peter and Haylee whispering quietly as they brought up the rear. I caught up to Marc, out of breath even though this path was much kinder than our earlier one. “Marc?” I breathed, trying to keep my voice down. He shook his head once, so I was silent. He fell behind me after a few quiet minutes.
Haden was a few feet ahead, his long stride like his brother's. His powerful arms were swinging slightly at his sides. The others were quiet behind us. A few seconds later, Haden's right foot caught a little incline in the path. His momentum carried him forward as he tripped. He uttered a low oath as he fell toward the ground. A few inches from the dirt, he disappeared. We all stopped in our tracks. A few yards ahead on the path, Haden flashed into existence, dusting his pants off. He looked up at our staring eyes, his neck red. He raised his hands in a greeting. “Sorry!” he called. “I'm still trying to get used to that.” He turned away, embarrassed, and continued along the path.
“Great,” Peter muttered behind us. Marc picked up his pace.

So, they go back to the cabin and have a great awkward gathering. Silence, tea, Marc fuming in the corner. The usual. Haden asks Haylee about her power, and then Peter. Peter shows off a little, no big deal. Then he turns to Dakota.

He turned his gaze to me again, warming my face.
“Won't you have some tea, Dakota?” he asked pleasantly. Marc stiffened at my side.
“How did you know my name?” I breathed. He cocked his head.
“Did you think you were the only one who had dreams?” he asked. My throat closed, my palms sweating. “Tea?” he asked again. Marc leaned closer to me.
“Would you like some water?” he muttered. Peter shifted as if to get to his feet. Marc held out a hand.
“Yes please,” I whispered back.
“I'll help!” Haden said, jumping up.
Marc walked into the kitchen without looking at his brother. Haden followed. When they were gone, Haylee let out her breath noisily. “My God this is awkward,” Peter whispered. I nodded numbly. With the source of the tension gone from the room, the tightness in my chest loosened.
Marc entered after a long moment, Haden at his heels. Marc walked over to me, a tall glass of water in one hand. I met his eyes. The blue there was cold, little stress lines fanning out around his face. He was distracted, his forehead creased. I attempted a smile, forcing my muscles to pull up into a grin, teeth still clenched. He softened at my expression. I could only imagine that it must look like a lunatic grimace. He chuckled once at my attempt and leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine softly. Someone let their breath out in a huff. The air gusted cold against my skin, so I knew it had been Haden. Marc took his face away and we turned to look at his brother.
Haden had frozen in place, his mouth hanging open. His hands were clenched into fists, the thick muscles of his arms trembling. I expected for a moment that maybe his face would turn playful, teasing his brother's easy affection with me. But his eyes were hard, the light brown in them burning. He clenched his jaw, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Marc clenched his own fists at his brother's unexplainable reaction. The water glass winked and disappeared. Outside in the quiet night, the small chime of glass breaking could be heard. Haden stared at his brother's empty fists, his face shocked.
“Where is it?” Haden choked. Marc didn't answer, his breathing fast. “WHERE IS IT?!” Haden roared.
“IN THE GREENHOUSE!” Marc screamed back. Peter rose to his feet. And Haden vanished.
“Stay here,” Marc growled, and disappeared. The air blew by as he kicked off through the night.
Of course, we were all through the back door in seconds, Peter at the lead. Haylee flared up two balls of fire to light our way across the black yard. A crash sounded in the greenhouse. Another crash and a roar as we reached the glass building. Peter kicked the door in. Haden was racing through the dark room, turning pots over and flipping tables. Marc stood just inside the door, fuming.
“What did you do with it?!” Haden shouted. He flipped another table with a violent grunt.
“I didn't take the hat, 'Den,” Marc said through his teeth.
My eyes immediately jumped to the little pile in the corner. A beer bottle, a remote control. A baseball cap. Marc was standing right beside it, not paying attention. I pressed myself up against the wall and nudged him. “Where is it?!” Haden roared again, sending a row of pots flying.
Marc looked to me, then to the little pile. Haden turned his back as Marc ducked down and scooped up the hat. I sighed with relief. I was starting to worry about the plants being crushed under foot. Marc held it up. “Haden, calm down. It's here.”
Haden whipped his head in Marc's direction, locking eyes on the hat. He vanished and reappeared in front of Marc in one breath. Haden reached out and clamped his hand against his brother's throat, throwing him back into the wall. He lifted him from his feet. Marc kicked and choked. “Give it to me,” Haden growled.
Peter and Haylee leapt forward, their hands up in front of them. I threw one arm out to block them. I didn't need to concentrate, my palms were already tingling. A pot hanging overhead shivered as a vine crawled over the side. It dropped to Haden's shoulder and twined tightly around his neck. My blood was ice. Marc dropped the hat as he thrashed wildly. “Put him down,” I hissed. The vine tightened around Haden's throat. He opened his hand.
Marc fell to the ground heavily, gasping and coughing. I let the vine tighten momentarily, the anger still racing in my veins. Haylee laid a hand on my shoulder. I took a breath. The plant unraveled itself and slid back into place.
Haden's gasping mixed with his brother's in the warm air. He bent to snatch the hat from the ground. He locked eyes with me as he slid it into place over his curls. His lips were turned up in a snarl as he disappeared. Peter was thrown roughly to the side. Haylee restrained him as he lunged at the empty air in the greenhouse doorway. We heard the back door open and slam shut. From inside the house, the creak of a bedroom door and another bang.
“He always does this,” Marc said, still sputtering, as he climbed to his feet.
“Does what?” Peter asked. “Rage around breaking shit and then choke the life out of you?”
“Yeah,” Marc answered, massaging his throat. “Pretty much.”