The Fallen Prince Part 14

"Sorry," I say. "That was the last of it."

Grandma shakes her head. "Your grandfather is going to be stomping mad when he finds his bait gone."

Bodog leans back and cups his hands over his protruding belly. A burp ripples from his throat, scenting the air with an earthy odor. Grandma pinches her nose and turns away.

I take the chair opposite Bodog. I know what hasn't occurred to Grandma. Bodog wouldn't be here unless something really, really bad is going on. I plant my elbows on the table. "Doing okay?"

He nods.

"Good." It's time for some answers. "Why're you here?"

His short-lived contentment disappears, and his eyes grow haunted. "All is lost."

Getting information out of him is slower than watching worms crawl. "What's lost?"

"Life. Bad things happening. Disarray. Death."

I wonder how the news is affecting Kera. She's suddenly very interested in the dish towel she holds. It's twisted in a tight roll, and when she lets go, it unfurls like a dancer spinning on her toes.

Bodog's filthy hand slaps atop mine, snapping my attention back to him. "Come back. You must save us."

Before I can answer, Grandma steps forward with her hands on her hips, her usual gracious att.i.tude gone. "Absolutely not. Dylan can't go back. He almost died there."

Bodog ignores Grandma's outburst. His eyes grow large and pleading. "You must return. Hope is lost without you."

Grandma swoops in and plucks Bodog from his seat by the tip of one floppy ear. Amid his screeching, she growls, "Out with you."

Kera steps back, separating herself from the sudden chaos. Despite my shouts to stop, Grandma drags Bodog across the kitchen and rips open the back door. With a shove, she ejects him onto the porch, where he rolls like a half-chewed dog bone, coming to a wobbly stop near the railing. Grandma's anger curls around her. "Scurry off into the hole you came from and don't come back."

"Grandma!" I push past her and help Bodog to his feet.

He hides behind me and whimpers against my sleeve as he eyes the angry human before him. "Crazy woman should leave Bodog alone."

A strangling noise rises in Grandma's throat. Kera peers out behind the screen door, a silent witness to Grandma's protective nature.

Grandma steps forward and waggles a finger in Bodog's face. "Not on your life! Your realm destroyed my daughter and nearly killed my grandson. Things are spilling out of your realm that give sane people nightmares. Dylan is not going back."

A loud cuss erupts from the shed, and we all turn to see Grandpa stomp out, his dog at his heels and a fis.h.i.+ng pole clutched in his right hand. "Someone stole my worms," he shouts.

"George!" Grandma calls. She glares back at Bodog. "And to think I fed you. Wait until my husband hears about this."

She lets out another yell and waves as she scrambles down the stairs toward Grandpa. I've never seen Grandma so fired up. Her eyes could've burned through wet leather the way she glared at Bodog.

A series of hesitant tugs attack my s.h.i.+rt, and I glance down. Bodog's ears twitch and his mouth moves wordlessly. The poor guy's been through h.e.l.l and now Grandma's after him. I take pity on him. "Tired?"

He nods.

"I've got the perfect place for you."

"Dylan." The screen door cracks open and Kera steps out. Her face holds deep shadows. "Maybe we shouldn't-"

I shake my head. I can't talk to her right now, and I leave her standing on the porch twisting the edge of her s.h.i.+rt with worry. I lead Bodog to the root cellar on the side of the house where a pair of large, wooden doors lie flat against the ground. When I pull the doors open, there's the impression of a gaping mouth, eager to swallow whatever is pushed inside.

"Go on," I urge Bodog, "but don't touch anything. You can eat whatever crawly thing you can catch, just don't touch anything else. Okay?"

He descends into the cellar, a small morsel for the looming darkness. Amid the hinges' creaking protest, I hear a soft sigh. "Good dirt. Soft."

I call down to Bodog. "No digging." The last thing I need is for him to undermine the house foundation with tunnels.

A grunt, whether in agreement or not, is given.

"I mean it," I say and then let the doors bang shut.

On my way back to the porch, I run into Grandma and Grandpa. "There he is, George. Now tell him." The shrillness to Grandma's voice is a testament to her panic. "He can't go back. It's not his problem."

Grandpa cups Grandma's shoulders and gently squeezes. "It's not our call. He knows the danger. He knows it's not going away."

"What are you saying?" Grandma shrugs out of his hands, gawking at him as if he's morphed into a goblin. "You're talking like you think he should go. Do you want him to die?"

Air rumbles from his chest, and he glares down at her. "That's a fool question."

"Don't you use that tone with me, Mr. Newman." Grandma's hackles are raised and she digs in for a fight.

"Now see here," Grandpa says, waggling his finger at her. "I didn't mean anything..."

I zone them out. Neither has a say in what I do. I've been dumped here, but that doesn't mean I have to stay here. I don't mean that in a disrespectful way-I'm not like them, not completely. My human self is only half the equation that guides me. Once my first half crested, it sunk its hooks deep into me. The owners.h.i.+p of my will has become a daily struggle. To deny either side is to deny who I really am, and I'm done pretending I'm normal.

As they argue, I feel the hairs on my neck rise. I turn to see Kera gripping the porch railing, her violet eyes ringed with worry. When she sees me staring, she slowly turns and goes inside. I follow.

Barefoot, she pads through the kitchen as silently as the ghost I thought she was the first time I met her. She moves down the hall and into my bedroom. The scent of new construction fills the air. After the firsts torched my room, Grandpa got busy rebuilding, and the bones of bare studs line the wall, its skin of drywall waiting patiently in the shed to be fitted and nailed on. The few clothes of mine that didn't get damaged in the fire are neatly stacked and pushed out of the way. At least all the necessities-new bed, electricity, and working bathroom-are there.

"Close the door." Her whisper is ragged.

I do as she asks because frankly, she's freaking me out. I've never seen her like this. Quiet. Unreadable. She's a girl who wears her emotions on her face; they pour out of her like the purest spring water. "What's wrong?"

"Is it wise to go back?"

"You don't need to go if-"

"No! I have to ask you..." Her voice ebbs away as if whatever she needs to ask me is the most painful thing she's ever done. "Do you hear things? In your head?"

"What? No!" I take her hands, freaked by her questions and desperate to calm her worry. "I know you think I'm crazy, that I'm reckless, but I'm improving." I run my hands up and down her arms. "I have to go, Kera. I made a promise to Jason."

"Jason is gone."

She doesn't know about my nightmares. He may be dead, but his body deserves to be home with his family, to be at peace. "I know where he is. I can't leave him there indefinitely. His parents don't even know he's dead. They deserve to know and mourn him...bury him."

Kera pushes away, cutting me off. Her eyes darken. Her hands roll into fists, and she shakes her head vehemently. "No, no, no. You can't risk your life for a dead friend. Jason would understand that."

What's wrong with her? It's not like her to be so uncaring. I place my hand on her arm, but she jerks away. Letting my hand drop, I duck my head and try to make eye contact. "I'm not saying I'll go now, just...soon. There's only one way to know for sure what's going on. I have to go back and see why Bodog is so frightened. If I can help, I've got-"

Without warning, the mirror hanging on the wall shatters. I lunge at Kera, protecting her with my body as the shards crackle and fall to the floor.

When it grows quiet, I pull away. Kera's perfectly fine except her fingertips are glowing. I take a step back, frowning. "Kera? What's going on? What's wrong?"

She's shaking. She goes to the bed and sits, curling until her elbows dig into her thighs and her hands rake through her long hair. "I don't know. I made it break. I know I did, but I didn't mean to. Something is not right. I can feel it. Like something else is inside me trying to get out."

That sounds familiar. Didn't I think the same thing about myself before Bodog showed up? But now, because of him and his gloomy news, we're all on edge. I touch her hair. "It's going to be fine."

Her head pops out of her hands and she stares helplessly up at me. "How? I don't feel normal. Do you understand? I'm not the same and neither are you."

The presence of something wicked skitters under my skin. I know exactly what she means, but I've lived a lifetime ignoring strange sensations. I push this one to the side, too, and rub a hand over the sudden goose b.u.mps on my arms.

My bedroom door bursts open and Bodog darts inside. His face is tight with apprehension. "It's here!"

A series of shotgun blasts rip through the air. I glance toward the window. "What's going on?"

Bodog doesn't answer. His attention is caught by the shattered mirror.

Grandma appears at the door and clings to the frame, her face flexed with anger. "I'm a good Christian woman, but that...that creature has got to go. He's made a mess in the cellar. Dog food is everywhere."

I don't care about dog food; it's the shotgun blasts that riddle the otherwise quiet that have my attention now. "Who's shooting?"

"Your grandfather said Reggie's seeing things. He's been on edge since...well, you know. He's not supposed to use a gun so close to the house."

I don't think sending Grandpa alone to confront a guy with a gun is such a wise move, and I mutter something to that effect.

When I make to go and help him, she plants herself in front of the door and settles her hands on her hips, refusing to be pulled from her main mission. "Oh no you don't. Your grandfather doesn't need your help, I do. You're staying right here, and you're going to do something about him," she says, pointing at Bodog.

Bodog, Kera, Grandma, and now Reggie, my frustration level is climbing higher by the second, and I snap. "What do you want me to do? I can't poof him back to Teag."

Her gaze jolts from Bodog to the mirror. "Oh, for heaven's sake. What's he done now?"

Before I can tell her the broken mirror isn't Bodog's fault, a strange hush settles in the room. The air grows heavy, unbreathable. Bodog stares into the broken pieces and they begin to rattle, then jump, twirling and flexing as they rise off the floor. Colors flash within their depths, the air sizzles, and a splinter of blinding light flashes. A puff of air slams into me, and I stagger back. When I refocus, the mirror is again a shower of bits scattered on the floor and Bodog is bent over, gasping.

Grandma's eyes grow wide. She backs up, turns, and runs down the hall calling for Grandpa.

Her panic is infectious. Rising from the bed, Kera's fingers curl into her T-s.h.i.+rt hem. Slowly, she draws near Bodog. "What do you see?"

Bodog stares at the broken bits. His brow wrinkles deep, and his hands flex against his knees. "Bad."

A gnarled finger points toward the mess. "Deceit." He turns. His eyes lift to mine. "Terrible pain." He then peers at Kera, who has grown still with fear. "What disaster have you wrought?"

Her face pales. "Nothing."

Bodog stabs his finger toward the mirror. "You did this."

I put a protective hand on Kera's arm and step forward, staring Bodog down. "She didn't mean to do anyth-"

"Her future," he interrupts even as he shrinks away from me. "Her doing."

Kera steps back as if he hit her. "No."

A dark condemnation appears on the little man's face. "Yes."

Trembling, her hand rises to her lips. The slow shake of her head is joined by a sharp sob. Grandma and Grandpa arrive, and amid Grandma's demand that Grandpa get rid of our destructive guest, I grab Bodog by the shoulders and force him to look at me. "Show me what you saw."

"Only Bodog sees."

Grandpa crosses his arms against his bulldog chest. "Okay. I've about had it. Reggie's shooting at shadows and now this. What kind of trick are you playing?"

"No trick."

The force of Bodog's a.s.sertion chases away the derisive tip to Grandpa's lips. Stepping forward, Grandpa crouches, and when he nudges an oddly twinkling shard, an electric charge skitters from one piece to another. He jerks his hand away, and our eyes meet. I can see my sudden apprehension reflected in his hazel eyes. An understanding crosses between us. This is the beginning of something more. Something bigger. Dangerous.

I turn to find Kera gone.

Bodog tugs at my s.h.i.+rt, bringing my attention to him. His fingers clutch at the fabric, and when he speaks, his voice is edged with distress. "The truth fights to be seen."

The truth? What truth? I really hate it when he talks like this.

"The truth fights to be seen," I murmur. "Fights to be seen..."

I rub my arms, stilling the p.r.i.c.kle of power humming under my skin.

That's it! Kera and I are fighting to hold back a terrible power that's within us. My sudden catch of breath grabs Grandpa's attention. "This isn't about Bodog, it's about Kera and me, about the new powers we took from Navar."

An ear-piercing screech shakes the house timbers. We all look at each other. "And that's no imaginary shadow," I say.

"It's here," Bodog rasps and slinks into a corner, his eyes wide with fear.

"What's here? What is it?"

Bodog doesn't say, he only crouches into a tight, frightened ball. "It will not stop," he rasps.

Another quick series of shotgun blasts sound.

"George?" Grandma's voice rises in panic.

Grandpa's muscles tense from jaw to toe. The hardened soldier is back. He wraps his arm around Grandma and pushes her toward the door. "Let's get you into the cellar."

"I'm not going into the cellar without you." Defiance colors her words.

I can see the lie before Grandpa says it. He pats her arm. "We're all going."

As Bodog whimpers and covers his ears against another shotgun blast, my mind whirls with possibilities. Bodog believes Kera let some kind of evil out. It's ridiculous. But then...my gaze lowers to the shattered mirror. What if she's no longer as innocent as she appears?

Another quick boom of a shotgun fills my ears. Kera's out there.