Page 51 of Tether
“Please. Look at me.” His voice breaks, pleading for me to be sensible. The only response from my body is the tears that continue to fall from my eyes.
“Ah, there it is,” Reed’s smug voice cuts through the air like a sharp blade, plucking the now-wet folder from the ground. In my periphery, I see cloaked figures forming a circle around us, but it’s too late to run. My eyes drown in Loxen’s, which are now filled with nothing but fear for my life. He can’t keep me safe. He can’t save me. Because he doesn’t exist.
The realization of the situation I’m in sends a prickle of panic down my spine. Icy droplets fall from the sky, sliding over my pebbled flesh. I look in every direction, trying to find an escape before locking eyes with Reed. I feel the fury building in my core, overpowering any fear that I feel for this man. How could I have been so stupid to trust him so willingly? To hand over my heart to someone with such vile intentions. There are so many unanswered questions lingering on the tip of my tongue, demanding truth. My eyes narrow into slits, and I pay no mind to the masked members tightening their circle around us.
“Why is it so important to you?” I shout over the fierce rumbling in the sky. “What do you know about my parents’ deaths? About Loxen Gray?”
His stance is solid. A cruel grin stretching wide across his face. He holds up his hand, giving the folder a wave.
“Oh, this? It’s none of your concern, Gravenhurst. I’m just happy it’s no longer in the wrong hands.”
“None of my concern? How dare you! I trusted you!” I take a step forward, my anger taking control of my movements, my mind not thinking rationally. He clicks his tongue and tucks the folder in the pocket beneath his robe. He laughs, and the sound of it is like poison being tossed in the air between us.
“Well, that was rather foolish of you, wasn’t it?” His tone is malicious—bored almost. “The thing about power is it demands to be claimed, Gravenhurst. So here I am, claiming what’s mine once and for all.” He repeats the words he once spoke to me. I grit my teeth and take a step forward.
“Verena, don’t! You have no idea what he is capable of!” Loxen pleads at my side. He tries to grasp my hand over and over, but it’s entirely impossible.
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper so only he can hear me.
Reed’s head tilts to the side, and his eyes narrow. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one.” My words are clipped. The laughter that comes forth Reed’s lips is irritating to any creature with ears.
“You’re just as batshit crazy as your old man, you know that? Your mother was just a means to an end. A mere casualty for the greater good of the society,” he implies, like her death was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have left not to strangle the life out of this bastard myself.
Nausea overwhelms me at the vile man that stands before me, smiling like he enjoys the pain and torment he’s put me through. How could I have been so blind to the evil that lurks beneath the surface of his flesh?
“Loxen Gray, on the other hand, should have never existed in the first place. If his whore of a mother hadn’t opened her legs toany man with deep pockets, I wouldn’t have had to get rid of him to take back the trust that was always rightfully mine.”
Horror flickers across my face as it all comes crashing down in my mind. Loxen’s mother? What’s rightfully his? Adrenaline pumps through my blood at his comment. I take two long strides towards him, my hand balled into a fist. I lift my arm, prepared to swing at him, when I notice the other members of the society have completely closed in on me.
I turn back to Reed as he lifts his mask away from his face and smirks.
I’m about to ask him what the hell is so amusing, but my words fail me.
Heat bursts through my chest. I peer down to where Reed has sunk a dagger. Blood seeps through my blouse like ink, and when I look into Reed’s eyes, I no longer recognize the human I once had feelings for. For what looks back at me is nothing but a monster, piercing a blade through the part of me he claimed he wanted to protect: my heart.
A body collides into mine with such intense impact the wind is completely knocked from my lungs, sending my body flying to the ground. I can feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness as the dagger drains the life from within me. My head lolls to the side, my vision blurs, and I can faintly make out the letters engraved into a slightly hidden tombstone covered by a blanket of black irises—Loxen Gray, beloved son & friend.A single tear slides down the side of my cheek, grieving for the man I thought I knew, the man I wanted to hate, and the man I now realize I truly, deeply love.
Loxen is shouting my name, screaming with all of his might, driving his fists into the ground, pleading for me to fight–for me to live. His presence is flickering before me, in and out of existence. I try to hold on, but the loss of blood mixed with the overwhelming hurricane of emotions is draining my very soul from my body. I don’t know how much longer I can stay tethered tothese grounds under a storm so brutal, but I hold out as long as I can, for Loxen. For Mauve, for Archie. A tear breaks loose.
Droplets of rain continue to cover my face, but I can no longer feel the cold stings as they fall upon my flesh. I look for that handsome face I’ve come to yearn for, but when I cannot see him, I close my eyes for a final moment of peace, where everything around me fades into silence, and the world around me is no more.
THIRTY-THREE
VERENA GRAVENHURST
There are moments in life that defy time—like you’ve slipped through the seams of the world into a place that’s somewhere between the living and the dead, yet nowhere all at once. Like time itself stands frozen, while your story still continues.
That moment weighs on me now, as quiet sobs, a warm hand against my cheek, and the smell of fresh flowers coax me back to the living. Except, I’m unsure if it’s the living at all, because as my eyes flutter open, they’re met with a pair of ocean blues that I’ve longed to drown in.
“Loxen?” I rasp, my eyes swelling with tears at the sight of him. He coddles me in his lap like an infant, brushing the hair from my face, holding me so tightly like he thinks if he stops touching me, I’ll disappear completely. He’s actually touching me. Loxen Gray’s hands are delicately brushing my flesh, and that realization alone has goosebumps cascading over my skin.
“God,” his voice cracks, “you’re going to be the death of me.” He chokes back a laugh, tipping his head back against the tree. Tears stain his cheeks. His eyes are puffy and red, as if he’d been crying for a long while. Glimmers of sunlight burst throughthe branches overhead and dance along our skin as if it were a midsummer day. But his eyes are a stark contrast to the world around us. A brutal war of sorrow and fury clashes behind them, and my heart twists painfully at the memory of him screaming for mercy on my behalf. A knot forms in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down.
The scent of iris catches on the breeze, and I turn my head, expecting to feel pain, but I feel nothing at all. Weightless. Birds chirp in the swaying willow above, some flying about. The sky is clear, not a single cloud in sight, and thousands of dark petals surround us as if welcoming me home.
A knowing silence settles over us as Loxen continues his steady caress through my hair. This isn’t just a dream.
