Tiernan, Cate - Immortal Beloved 02 - Darkness Falls by Tiernan Cate

Author:Tiernan, Cate [Tiernan, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Book Group USA
Published: 2012-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

I ran.

I ran through the thicket where Reyn had kissed me just, like, last week. The cold air seared my lungs and made my eyes water. I’d hoped that running would warm me up, but I was already shaking with cold or emotion or fear.

Thin branches whipped against my face and arms. The snow crunched underfoot and deadened my footsteps. I had a sudden flashback to that awful dream I’d had about Incy, where I had warmed my hands on a fire made of my friends. I hit my shoulder hard against a tree and raced headlong out of the woods. I saw I was way at the back of the farm, in a pasture no one used. I ran along the fence for a long time, until each breath was like a shard of ice being shoved down my throat. Cold sweat froze on my brow; my lungs were working like bellows because I never run and was totally out of shape.

I staggered to a plodding walk, then finally stopped, unable to go on. I was horrified and panicked. I was outside alone at night. With humiliation I realized that a small part of me hoped that someone would track my footsteps and come find me—but then that would be worse because I would have to go back. Again. Have to face whatever awful stuff awaited me in Reality Land.

I started to cry.

Just a few weeks ago, I’d seen a tiny crack of sunny promise splitting through the dark tarmac of my soul. I’d been able to count the things I was doing right. I’d seen progress—I really had. What had happened? Everything felt ruined: my whole time at River’s Edge, my relationships with everybody, my magick, my learning…. I’d faced so much—my heritage, my past, my emptiness. I had faced it all, and for what? I was worse off now than when I’d come, because now I actually understood how bad off I was.

What was wrong with me?

I slumped onto the icy grass, which crumpled stiffly under me. Freezing to death was, sadly, not a possibility. I would get hypothermia and pass out, but I wouldn’t die. I blinked tiredly, feeling my tears ice-cold against my lashes. Just like in London, I’d reached a point where I couldn’t handle the pain.

I cried until my ribs ached and I felt like I might throw up. The grass scratched my face, which already stung from the branches in the woods, and my salty tears burned in the scratches.

I closed my eyes. Maybe I would wake up, find myself back in Tahiti, find this had all been a wretched dream. I had been Sea Caraway, in Tahiti. Incy had been Sky Benolto. I’d made stuff out of seashells, sold it at local shops. This had been back in the 1970s. After I’d been Hope Rinaldi, in the sixties. Before I became Nastasya Crowe, in the eighties.

My head ached. The cold made it throb more insistently.

I just wanted to be happy. When had I been happy?

I remembered laughing.

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