Ryder leans around me. "Where is it?"
"In my right pocket," Reece whispers, his shoulders hunching.
"I think I might be able to get it." Ryder flicks a quick glance ahead. "But who's the lucky bastard who gets to take it?"
"Allura," Reece murmurs. "I don't want her to be vulnerable, especially with how interested Wrath seemed toward her."
A ton of questions burn at the tip of my tongue, begging to be asked. Like, what's dreamland smoke? And a shade? And what's going to happen to us when we get to camp?
"The smoke's toxic," Ryder explains, reading my questioning expression. "It won't kill us or anything, but it'll mess with our heads."
"Mess with our heads how, exactly?" I dare utter. "Like we'll have hallucinations?"
"Kind of." Ryder trades an indecipherable look with Reece.
"She's going to find out anyway, even if she uses the shade," Reece tells him with an exhausted sigh. "We might as well tell her now so she'll know what to expect."
With reluctance, Ryder nods. "Allura, when we inhale the smoke, we'll start acting out of our minds. And we'll eventually start seeing things that we normally dream about. Depending on what direction our minds go, we might say some stuff that's weird and crude and crazy. You'll probably want to smack us a lot, but I promise you that we don't mean any of the stuff we say. You'll take the shade, though, so it won't affect you. But I need you to pretend you're out of it until they lock us up. They can't know you took the shade."
My mind races a thousand miles a minute. Dreamland? Shades? Toxic smoke? I've never heard of any of this.
"Will you guys be in pain?" I ask worriedly.
Ryder shoots another glance at Reece. "Possibly."
"Then maybe Reece should take the Shade." I look at the blood covering Reece's wrist and arms. "He's lost a lot of blood. I don't think he should have to deal with any more pain."
"I'll be fine," Reece attempts to reassure me, but then he stumbles over a dip in the ground and almost falls down. He manages to regain his balance, though, and gets his feet underneath him. "I'd rather you take the Shade, Allura. Just do us a favor and don't let us do anything that doesn't seem like something we'd normally do."
I nod, promising him I will, even though I don't think I know them well enough to know everything they normally do.
When Reece and Ryder trade another look, I lose any ounce of calm I have left. Why do they keep looking at each other like that? Is there something they aren't telling me?
Before I can ask, Ryder switches places with me and walks alongside Reece.
"Allura, keep an eye out," Ryder whispers as he presses his shoulder up against Reece's. "Make sure no one's paying attention to us."
I peer at the people surrounding us. Most of them are concentrating on the trail ahead except for a group of girls around my age, who keep sneaking glances in our direction.
"Those girls keep looking at us," I hiss. "Ryder, I think--"
"Got it," he mutters, shuffling away from Reece. "Allura, I really hate to do this to you, but I have to inject the shade into you with a needle. I know you hate them, and if there were any other way ..." He trails off, unable to offer another solution.
Invisible fingers wrap around my throat at the thought of being pricked by a needle again. My arms are already covered with tiny white scars from where the wardens poked and prodded.
"I'm sorry, but we need to do this now," Ryder says with urgency. "Please give me permission."
Knowing I need to be brave, I smash my lips together and nod. Ryder inches closer until our shoulders touch. Then I feel a sharp pierce in my left arm. Whatever this shade thing is, it burns entering my veins. But the pain is bearable in comparison to some of the stuff the wardens injected in me.
Ryder tips his head toward me. "Feeling okay?"
I mentally tune in with my body, checking to see if everything feels fine. "I think so. My arm hurts a little, but that's probably from the needle."
"Good. Let me know if anything starts to feel funny," he says. "Sometimes, the shade can have side effects, but they're mild compared to inhaling dreamland smoke."
I nod, my attention drifting forward. We're about half a mile away from the camp now, and the air is becoming hazy with greyish purple smoke.
I check on Reece and Ryder to see if the smoke has affected them yet. They seem fine and coherent. How long will it take the smoke to do something? What am I in store for? Madness? Chaos? What about the Forsaken? Won't they be exposed to the smoke, too?
Right as that thought occurs to me, the woman in charge spins around and walks backward, facing the crowd. "Masks on!" she commands.
The people around us reach under their shirts and into their jackets. Each one of them pulls out a bizarre looking mask with a clear square on the top and what looks like a speaker on the bottom. They slip the masks over their faces, the clear square acting as a window, the speaker over their mouths.
A faint memory pushes against the back of my mind of my face being behind one of those masks, but I shake it away. Now's not the time to go down memory lane. I need to stay alert and keep an eye on Ryder and Reece like I promised.
"Brace yourself," Ryder mumbles as we arrive at the outskirts of the fence. Smoke floods the air, tickling my nostrils and the back of my throat. "Shit's about to hit the fan."
Once we reach the fence, we're steered through a small gap and into the camp. I frantically glance around at the people exiting the tents. All of them are carrying some form of weapon: guns, bows, knives. They stop to watch as we're herded deeper into the camp.
Silence clings to the air. Impending doom lingers, thick like the smoke. Something terrible is about to happen. I wish I knew what it was, so I could brace myself for the impact.
My eyes are all over the place, my nerves on edge as I note several metal grates covering the ground. I'm just leaning over to peer down inside one when I hear it. A peculiar noise rises in the midst of the stillness. I think maybe someone's sobbing from inside one of the tents, but then I realize the noise is coming from beside me.
I stiffen, glancing over at Ryder.
Madness doesn't even begin to describe the scene unfolding beside me. Not only is Ryder laughing at absolutely nothing, but he's laughing so hard he can barely keep his feet under him. Every other step, he stumbles to his knees then hops right back up, bursting with laughter the entire time. Even when he cracks his head against a rock, his laughter never misses a beat. Seconds later, he begins to sob, his shoulders heaving.
Reece sighs as he watches Ryder lose his mind, at first not seeming too bothered by the smoke. But then a sharp laugh bursts from his lips and swiftly builds to an ear splitting cackle. By the time we reach the center of the camp, they've both settled into a fit of giggles mixed with hysterical sobs.
I reach a state of panic when we stop in front of a massive bonfire. Smoke snakes around me, and I instinctively trap my breath in my chest. Ryder told me I needed to pretend the smoke affected me, but I can't find the will to laugh. This place, this situation is so awful. And the people around me ... Now that the sun has risen, I can see the blood that stains almost everyone's clothes. Just how many people have they killed? That thought steals any hope of laughing away from me.
When the woman in charge shoves her way through the throng of people, heading straight for us, I try to force out a noise that resembles a laugh, but desperation grinds in my voice.
"Having fun yet?" She grins, stopping in front of me. In the sunlight, her eyes look even more feral.
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond.
Her scrutinizing gaze bores into me, and I mentally scream at myself to laugh.
Just laugh, dammit! Before she finds out you took shade!
A strangled, choking noise flees from my lips, and her eyes light up with pure glee.
"Huh, I wonder ..." Her arm shoots forward, and she seizes my wrist. Jerking me toward her, she yanks the sleeve of my shirt up. Cool air nips against my branded
flesh, and I wrench back. Her fingertips only dig deeper into my skin. "Well, holy shit, I didn't see that one coming," she says then aims her gun at my neck and pulls the trigger.
I hear a soft swoosh, and then searing pain shreds through my body. Stars pop across my vision as I collapse to the ground, landing on my face. I don't blackout. My eyes remain open, my ears taking every sound in while my body lies slackened and motionless.
"Dump her in the hole with the other one," the woman says over Reece and Ryder's laughter-filled sobs.
"What about the other two, your highness?" an unfamiliar voice responds. "Where would you like them?"
"After you get her locked up, take them to my tent." Her clunky steel-toed boots pass by the front of my face. "I'm going to have a little fun with them before I toss them in the hole."
No! I promised I'd keep an eye on them!
I stab my fingers into the dirt and drag myself forward. But my legs, arms, head--almost my entire body--are paralyzed, and I barely make it more than a few inches before my fingers give out on me. What the heck did she shoot me with? It didn't feel like a bullet ...
My gaze drifts up my arm to my hand, landing on a small, circular scar about the size of a tiny button. A scar from a bullet. I remember. Being chased. All the time. Over and over again, I've been chased.
Chased.
Chased.
Chased.
Always ...
Chapter Eight
The Hunt
A large, furry animal with pointy teeth nips at my heels. Every once in a while, his teeth nick the back of my leg and draw blood. But I don't slow down, racing toward the thick forest about a mile ahead. I don't know who I'm running from or why they're chasing me, yet I somehow know the forest will protect me. Just like I know the men will kill me if I don't get to safety.
"Get her!" a man yells over the thunder of hooves hammering against the soil. "Shoot her if you have to! Remember, she can't die! She's one of them, so be on alert! She might try to retaliate! And we don't know yet what she can do!"
Bile burns at the back of my throat. Do they know what I am? How?
Sweat drenches my skin as I collect my lengthy black dress in my hands and pick up my pace, charging across the field faster than I thought I could run. How am I moving this fast?
The overly grown grass hisses at my legs, and pebbles in the ground tear at my bare feet. My long, brown hair fell from the pins about a mile ago, and strands blow in my face.
A heavy fog snakes from the trees, and a light mist haunts the wide river just to my left. I think about veering toward the river, diving in, and letting the rapids carry me away, but a horse gallops up and blocks my path.
Sitting in the saddle is a younger man wearing a wool jacket with pants tucked into leather boots. In his hand is a long-barreled gun.
"Just stop running, Allura!" he begs. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."
I know this man and well. I just don't know how I know him. The memory is old and has faded with time, almost forgotten.
"Please, just stop running," he pleads in desperation. "It'll ruin me if I have to shoot you."
"If I stop running, then you'll shoot me!" I scream, a venomous rage bubbling inside me.
His eyes briefly widen, but then his expression contorts in disgust. "You look just like them right now."
"Like who!" I cry, legitimately having no clue what he's talking about.
"You know who." He shakes his head then kicks his heels, and the horse speeds up. "I'm sorry, but I know what has to be done now."
Tears sting at my eyes, and my heart splits in two. Whoever this man is, I think I may have loved him once. But now he looks at me like I'm the most repulsive creature on earth.
No! I can't let my thoughts break me. I need to focus on getting away!
I rip my attention off him and run as fast as I can.
Just get to the trees. Just get to the trees. They're my safe haven.
"Don't let her get to the trees!" another man shouts. "If she gets in there, we will lose her!"
I turn my head and look at the river again. The guy I loved is pointing his gun at me, ready to fire. A part of me withers and dies.
"Get ready, men!" a man shouts. "When I give the orders, we all shoot at once! We don't want to take any chances!"
My heart slams against my chest. Please, please, please, let me make it.
Just a little farther and then I'll reach the trees. When I get there, I don't know what I'll do, but right now, I can't think about it.
"Fire!"
Boom! Shots ring out and the bitter taste of gunpowder burns at my taste buds.
I dive, ducking for cover, and hit the ground hard. I don't move fast enough, and pieces of scorching hot metal pierce me from every angle, slashing through my skin and ripping through my muscles. Blood gushes out of the wounds and saturates the dirt below me.
I cough, trying to breathe, but blood spurts from my mouth. I want to give up, just lie down and die. My body and mind both feel so broken, but the will to live kicks in, and I claw my fingernails into the dirt and drag my body toward the trees.
No, I can't let them capture--
Fingers enclose around my shoulder and flip me over onto my back. The blue sky has turned a thunderous grey, and a mysterious silence has settled around me.
Am I dead ...?
I feel myself being pulled somewhere else.
"Allura, can you hear me?" a familiar voice asks.
"I know you." I cough through the blood. "You've saved me before, but you're not from this memory."
"Allura." His voice basks over me like a hot summer day underneath the sun. "Answer me."
"I am." Why can't he hear me?
He sounds upset, and I want to comfort him, but I think I might be dying. I was shot so many times by those men on horses in a world I hardly remember, but that no longer exists ...
Wait. I'm only dreaming. I have to be.
"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," the guy says, taking my hand.
I try to squeeze it, but my fingers feel numb. It's okay, I want to say. Don't worry. I'll be fine. I always am ...
Darkness rims my vision.
"Whatever you do, don't close your eyes," he whispers in my ear.
That's when it hits me.
Blaise. He's alive. He didn't die. He's here with me. But where is here? Where am I? I can't see anything anymore.
"Just hang on," he demands. "Don't go to sleep."
I want to hold on. I don't want to go back to that nightmare where I'm lying shot on the ground. I want to stay with Blaise, but exhaustion drags me down.
I hear him curse, scream in frustration, and then he cups my head in his hands.
"Just give in to it," he says, defeated.
"Give in ... to what ...?"
"The poison."
"What ... poison ...?" My voice fades, and I fade along with it.
Chapter Nine
Dreamland
When I open my eyes again, I'm lying in the dewy grass, gazing up at the stormy sky. Purple and silver bolts of lightning flash in the distance, illuminating the lofty trees and rolling mountains around me. Quietness has settled, the noises of horses, guns, and men shouting no longer haunting the air. The scent of rain fills my lungs as I take a breath.
"I tried to get it as close to what you described as possible."
Blaise's voice startles me, and I start to leap to my feet, but he snags my elbow and pins me down to the ground.
"Don't move," he warns. "If you do, you'll break the connection, and then I could lose you."
I turn my head, following his voice, then blink at the empty space beside me.
"Where are you?"
"Right beside you," he says. "You just can't see me."
"Why not?"
"Because you're stuck in dreamland, and I'm here in reality."
I drape my arm across my forehead, dizzy with confusion. "I don't understand. One minute, I'm getting haul
ed to a camp by the Forsaken, and then I'm in some place where people are trying to shoot me, and now I'm here ... and I can hear you ... but I can't see you."
He heaves a sigh. "You were poisoned by the Forsaken. Someone gave you a shot of dreamland, and now your mind is teetering between falling into your nightmares and trying to grasp reality. And the reality is you're just lying in the hole with me."
"So the stormy sky isn't real?"
"The sky's only there because I'm ... helping your mind rest. If I were to let you go, you'd probably tumble into whatever nightmare you were having before I grabbed you. You said you were dreaming someone was trying to shoot you?"
I bob my head up and down. "They did shoot me, and I was dying, but then I heard you, and now I'm here."
"Do you dream about stuff like that often?"
"I don't think I've ever dreamed that I was shot before, but I've had bad dreams ... ones where I was being chased by wardens. But I don't know if they're dreams for sure. Sometimes, I think I'm remembering stuff I forgot, stuff that happened a long time ago, yet ..." I trail off. Yet I'm always the same age.
A beat of silence stretches between us.
"When I was first brought to the station, after I ..." He lets out a rough cough. "But, anyway, I had a lot of nightmares. And a lot of them were connected to ... the shit I saw before I came to the station."
I wonder what kind of stuff he saw--what haunts his nightmares--but don't dare ask.
"Do you still have them?" I ask. "I mean, the nightmares?"
"No too much, thanks to Reece."
"How did Reece help?"
"He hooked me up to this machine called Oblivion and pinpointed the cause for my memories. After a lot of work and a lot of fucking pain, he managed to fade some of the memories causing the nightmares."
"Do ...? Do the Grim have a machine like that? Maybe they used it on me, and that's why a lot of my old memories are resurfacing."
"Not that I know of. Reece built the machine himself," he says. "But machines pretty much run the world--well, besides the Grim. So there could be another machine out there like it."
"Sometimes, I think I remember a world that doesn't have machines." I jolt as thunder booms and the ground vibrates. "Like the one where I was being shot at. Everyone was riding around on horses, and there were no cars or signs of the Grim. There were trees and a field and a river."
"That is strange," he murmurs. "I've never seen most of that stuff."