“I…” With wide eyes, I observe the petals haunting the air. How could I have forgotten? The two times I journeyed to The Afterlife, I died. “But Aislin said he was there and she was happy so I didn’t even think…” My shoulders slump over. “But she was acting weird, like she was—” I buckle over, clutching at my chest, at my unbeating heart. “I think I’m…”
“Oh no.” She seizes my arm and picks up the pace, hurrying toward the willow tree. “You’re crossing over, into Helena’s Realm. I have to send you back to your body...”
“You can’t do…” My limbs droop and I crash to the ground. My skin shifts to wintriness blue. My muscles slither with an unnatural tingle. She desperately fights to sustain me. But I’m gone, abandoning her and the Essences for The Afterlife.
***
I land in Helena’s chambers, my sneakers embedded on the blood red podium. The thorn embellished throne is empty, along with chains on the wall. I circle the room, passing the silvery-liquid mirror. It ripples my deathly refection, my skin like snow, my violet eyes circled with bags, my lips as purple as my veins.
“Death is beautiful, isn’t it?” Helena greets me through the mirror.
I jump back and she ambles out of the mirror, dragging a chain attached around a Lost Soul’s neck. It’s a strange looking Lost Soul, its features masculine and its eyes full of helplessness. Helena clips the chain to the wall and pats the Lost Soul on the head. She’s different from the last time I saw her. Her thin legs have lengthened, adding enough height that she’s almost even with me. Her eyes are still hollow, but her skin is smooth and her long hair is a honey gold. Can Annabella see me too? Is she watching from the other side of Helena’s eyes?
Her long black dress with a high neckline sweeps the floor as she whisks to her throne. Long-legged black bugs with red hourglass-shaped spots on their bodies flood from her dress. I hop around like a scared little girl.
“Black Widows! What the hell?” I stomp on the body of one, squishing it on the bottom of my shoe.
“Careful. Someday one of them might squash you.” She scoops one up and lets it scurry across her hand, tilting her wrist to steer it. “You know the Black Widow is a really fascinating insect.”
I cringe as one crawls across my shoe. “They’re gross and that’s about it.”
She turns her hand upward. The Black Widow stands in her palm, buffing its legs together. “There’s a lot of mythology based on these creatures. Some believe them to be good luck. Others believe they’re an omen of the future. Some believe females are cannibals and that they eat their male partner after they mate.”
“Ewe.” I gag, kicking a spider away. “That’s disgusting and way too much information. Plus, they’re extremely venomous.”
“You say that like its bad.” She cups the Black Widow in her hand. “As a woman, I would think you’d understand.”
“Again, ewe.” I want to cover my ears, but I refrain. “Male or female, cannibalism is gross.”
“I’m not talking about cannibalism.” She places the Black Widow on the arm of her throne and leans forward. “I’m talking about being stronger, more powerful and not letting them stomp all over your heart.” She eyes the Lost Soul chained to the wall.
“Like Alexander Avery did with your heart?” I ask audaciously. “Or with your sisters?”
She snarls, then eyes me for an eternity, nitpicking my looks from head-to-toe. “I don’t understand what the fuss is about you, but for some reason guys seem to be drawn to you.” She thrums her fingers on the solid arm of the throne. “And you let them do whatever they want. I just don’t get it.”
“Is that why you brought me down here?” I approach the throne with caution, stepping on spiders and trying not to throw up at the crunching noise. “To discuss my guy problems?”
“They are more of a problem than you even realize.” She carries her head with arrogance, emitting self-confidence. “One playing you for a fool, the other nothing but a liar, and the last one…” Her black fingernail lines her lip. “Well, I’m not sure what the last one is to you.”
I have no idea which description fits what guy, but there’s more to worry about at the moment. Like time. Any second, my death could expire. “Where’s Laylen?”
She neither grins nor frowns, her demeanor collected as Black Widows cram the room, covering the walls, the floor, and the throne. “He’s safe for the time being.”
“He’s dead,” I snap, flicking a spider from my cheek. “How’s that considered safe?”
“Depends on how you look at it.” She gives an uncaring shrug. “Some consider death liberation.”
“Where is he?” I grind my teeth, struggling to maintain my patience.
“Who? Alex? Nicholas? Or the blonde one?” She licks her lips. “There are so many it’s hard to keep track of names. In my day, girls had to fight for the men, not the other way around.”
“You know what?” I toss my hands in the air. “I give up.”
She grins, thinking I’m surrendering, but she’s wrong. I just hope Alex taught me well. Sprinting for the podium, I thrust out my arms and seize her neck in my hands. The Black Widows scurry across the floor and up the walls. My chipped nails stab into her icy skin.
“You can’t kill me,” she croaks, forcing herself up from the chair. Her hands serpent over mine. “But it’s nice to see you enjoy this. Maybe you do belong here after all.”
My strength increases. “Tell me where he is.”
Her lips part and she lets out the most malicious cackle, hacking up a Black Widow coated in her saliva. Vomit burns at the back of my throat, but I refuse to let go.
“Fine, if that’s what you want, then I’ll give him to you.” She laughs to herself, clasps my wrists, and shoves me away.
I stumble onto the podium, her excessive strength shock-waving my muscles. I realize she was toying with me the entire time.
“You didn’t think you were really hurting me, did you?” She elevates her hands to eyelevel and claps her palms together twice. Her face lights up at something behind me.
I turn and my jaw drops. Laylen. He’s as frail as a Lost Soul, but not mummified. His bright blue eyes are black, his skin pale, and his cheekbones are concaved.
I move cautiously, fearing he’ll fall apart at the slightest movement. “What did she do to you?” I flick a spider from his shoulder. “Laylen, can you hear me?”
“I liberated him,” Helena answers. “This is his death, Gemma.”
“No, this is the life you took.” I whirl at her, my finger flaring. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.”
“True,” she agrees. “But he is a very beautiful Lost Soul.”
“He’s not a Lost Soul.” I shake my head, denying.
“Not quite, but soon,” she replies greedily.
I search his eyes for a spark of life, but he doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t know who he is—who I am—or where he is.
“What do you want?” I turn back to the queen, choking on my tears. “How can I get you to free him?”
“How much would you give up for him?” she asks intensely. “How much does this boy mean to you?”
I’ve never been in this kind of a situation with Laylen. Alex, yes. Laylen, no. But I look at it the same, because I care for Laylen just as much as I care for Alex.
“You want my soul?” I affirm.
Surprisingly, she shakes her head. “No, not your soul. You know as well as I do that I can’t just take it. But there is a loophole.”
Nervously, I note the chains on her wall, the Black Widows, and the forthcoming screams. “There’s always a loophole, isn’t there?”
She stretches from her throne, taller than ever. The spiders scuttle for her. They start at her feet and spiral up her dress. Her black fingernails point up to the ceiling and she laughs with glee. “What I want from you Gemma is more than your soul.”
I’m hit from the back, like a truck colliding with a wall. I fall flat on my face, in a pile of spiders. From my peripheral vision I spy a strange looking Banshee, its hair wispy and white and it moves like water. It takes down Laylen. His body smacks down onto the podium, his eyes open, lifeless. The Widows prey on him, scampering across his body as if they own him. The queen snickers again and a thousand swooshes pack the chamber.
Warm light melts me as my body starts to revive. I scream as I’m ripped apart from the inside out.
Chapter 20
I jolt up, shrieking at the top of my lungs. The sky shadows above and the grass is crisp against my legs. My body is broken from the fall, disarranged and scratched. I feel strange, but alive and in control. My mother was right: Helena can’t take my soul without permission. But what about Laylen?
“You went through with it, didn’t you?” Nicholas asks from behind me.
I pivot around and totter to my feet. “I had to—I had to save Laylen.”
“You’re always saving someone.” His eyes are like fireflies against the darkness of night. “The problem is no one ever saves you.” He eyes me over. “What happened? Do you still have your soul? By your nervous demeanor, I’m guessing yes.”
I insert my arm back into the socket and crack my fingers into place. “Yes, I still have my soul.” I dart past him and investigate the front yard.
He marches after me. “What are you looking for?”
“Laylen.” I race to the driveway and check the front seat of his car. It’s empty. “His body’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“So now it’s Laylen you’re worried about.” He skids in the gravel. “Tell me, do you ever worry about me like that?”
I blink at him. “Seriously? I think you know the answer to that question.” I revolve in a circle. “Laylen! Can you hear me?!” I tug my fingers through my hair, wrenching at the roots. “Laylen!” Tears leak from my eyes.