Race the Darkness by Abbie Roads

Author:Abbie Roads
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2016-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Reality and its repercussions tore Isleen away from sleep’s sacred oblivion. There was no moment of confusion between drowsing and waking. Nope. It was all right there with one horrifying memory ruling them all.

She lay on the couch where Xander had settled them after they’d gotten back from Gran’s grave. Directly across from her, a wide window opened onto a swath of yard, sloping down into an enchanting thicket of trees where wood fairies and mythical creatures ought to live. Overhead, the sky was an elusive shade of blue more translucent and gossamer than any color created by man. This place was all so magical and majestic and, for her, temporary.

Because she remembered.

Everything.

She remembered every terrifying act done to Gran, done to her. Her body remembered the pain. And her soul echoed with the memory of Gran’s death. The horrifying memory of watching the priest pour the poison into Gran’s mouth and being forced to witness Gran’s life and love and possibility die.

And Isleen had done nothing except watch. She should’ve done something. Should’ve forced her body to intervene. If only she’d tried harder.

When she had first remembered, the agony of her lack of action had been unbearable, but she’d survived. Because of Xander. He hadn’t let her go, and by the simple action of holding her tight, he’d glued all her shattered pieces together. So instead of being broken, she only felt fragile.

Salt crust from yesterday’s torrent of tears gritted in her eyes. She didn’t bother to rub away the grime. She’d cried herself to sleep in the safety of Xander’s arms. He infused her with strength and injected her with courage. She inhaled a lungful of bravery, then held her breath. Nothing in the future could be as bad as what lived in her memory. Small consolation, but still a consolation. She exhaled all cowardice.

“Baby?” Xander’s nickname for her warmed her in even the coldest places.

She turned away from the view outside to see him coming toward her, carrying a glass of water, and suddenly the comforting warmth turned into a bonfire of shame. When he found out she’d just watched Gran die… What if he already knew?

Her gaze locked on the clear liquid gently sloshing as he approached her. She pulled herself upright, continuing to stare at the glass. This was no time for denial and avoidance. It was time for honesty. Could she handle the look of condemnation on his face when he found out?

She’d just keep breathing, and that would keep her heart pumping. Basic system functioning would remain intact. Right? She forced herself to look him in the face.

“How’d you sleep?” Xander asked, holding the glass out to her. “No dreams? No nightmares?”

She heard him talking, but her brain wasn’t linking meaning to his words. It was busy memorizing each detail of him for when she lost him. His scars wound up out of his shirt, over his neck, up his cheek then alongside his temple and flared out over half his forehead. They were stunning in a way that wasn’t meant for words.

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