Earthbound e-1 Page 23

  “How did you die?”

  I look up at him as the all-too-familiar, body-numbing chill crashes over me. “I—” I brace myself against him as the cold that exists only in my mind paralyzes me. “I drowned. In a lake.”

  The nightmare of my last moments as Rebecca replays in my head until my whole body is quaking with cold. I can’t sense any details—don’t know why, where, when. All I know for sure is that they did it—the Reduciata. That fact burns in my mind like a searing fire, melting a tiny layer of ice. “They’ve been hunting me. For over two hundred years. Me, specifically. They’ve killed me so many times. I … I think they’re the ones who made my plane crash.”

  Benson’s hands tighten on me.

  My body courses with crazy energy now. “Of course, Benson, it makes total sense.”

  “Total,” Benson says dryly.

  “I’ve been reborn. Not just now, a hundred times. A thousand times.” I lean against him with a groan as the scope of that thought makes my brain ache. Then my eyes pop open. “And they’re chasing me through lifetimes, trying to keep their secret—whatever it is—quiet! The Curatoria located me—lured me to them with the promise of a fancy art school, to protect me until they could awaken me, just like Elizabeth said. But the Reduciata found out—brought the plane down. All to silence their secret.” My eyes widen and the implication sinks in. “They’ll kill anyone to get me. Anyone who stands in their way.”

  Anyone like him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “You need to find him, don’t you?” Benson says after a while, his face a tableau of anguish.

  “Who?”

  His hands are chilly to the touch. “Quinn. Whoever he is now.”

  “Quinn?” I’m not sure how we even got to this subject. It feels foreign. Wrong. I don’t need Quinn, I need Benson.

  Don’t I?

  When did even the barest doubt enter into my mind?

  And how can I get rid of it?

  “If you’ve been reborn, then he has too, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” I say, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And right then, it is. “The Earthbound are never dead—their souls simply move from one body to the next.”

  His hands are tight around my fingers and I can hear his heart beating.

  Not beating. Racing.

  Pounding.

  “You have to find him, then. It’s … it’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

  I stare up at him part in horror and part in wonder. I won’t leave Benson—but my mind is screaming that I will be safer with Quinn. How does Benson know that?

  “And—and I won’t stand in your way,” he continues in a whisper. “I knew things would change when you remembered. And even though I—”

  “No,” I interrupt. “No, Benson. That’s not what I want.” I force these feelings, this doubt away. I am my own master. I may be a goddess and the brotherhoods may think I have a path I’m not allowed to stray from, but they’re wrong. I can choose, and I will.

  “These people are chasing you because of a secret you knew two hundred years ago—do you think they’re just going to give up now?” Benson shakes his head, as if frustrated with himself. “You two need to be together. And I—” His voice breaks off and his hands tighten even more and the next words he says seem to take physical effort to force out. “I’ll help you.”

  My head feels too heavy on my neck, but I force my face up so I can meet his eyes. “No, Benson, no. I don’t want him. I want you.”

  “But—but you’re Rebecca now.”

  I lift my hands to frame his face. “I am not Rebecca. I was, absolutely. But I’m not now. I’m Tavia and I love you, Benson.”

  He’s silent for a long time before he whispers, “It’s not as easy as that.”

  “It can be.”

  “People are trying to kill you, Tave. That’s more important.”

  My thumb touches his cheekbone, just under the cut. “Nothing is more important than this.”

  His voice sounds frantic, and icy fear clenches at my heart. “But at the house, after your vision, you said—”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I counter, a little pissed that he believes I would turn on him so easily. “Rebecca said a lot of things before I got control back. It’s what she wants, Benson. But she’s not in charge this time around. I am.”

  Benson’s eyes are wide and then he closes his mouth and clenches his teeth, the muscles standing out on his cheeks. “I just … I assumed, I mean you’ve had lifetimes with him, right?”

  “I guess, but—”

  “Everything you’ve done the last three days has been about you trying to get to Quinn, to figure out Quinn, to complete this mystery task Quinn had for you. Not Rebecca—you.” His hands are tight on my arms, not holding me back, more like holding himself back from me. I loosen his hands, and his expression turns chastened until I step forward and lay my head on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him as lightly as possible.

  “I thought I might be in love with him; I did. I thought that desperate feeling of obsession was love. And maybe it’s a kind of love. But it isn’t the kind I like.” I pull back and look at him. “Rebecca will always be there inside me. And there are—others—who may come out in time. But I won’t let them choose my life.” I lean my head back so I can see Benson’s face, so I can look him in the eye. “I don’t want him, Benson. I want you. I don’t love him.” I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

  The moment stretches and everything is still. Benson’s eyes stare into me, searching for truth. Maybe searching for lies.

  But there are none. The feelings I have for Quinn will always be there—I understand that now, and I can’t purge an entire part of me, especially one as big as my past lives—but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my long recovery, it’s to live every day like it’s my last.

  And if today is my last day, I want to spend it with Benson.

  He looks shocked, so I reach for the back of his neck and bring his lips down to mine. Benson comes to life, his arms twisting around me, holding me close. Pained groans sound against my mouth, but he doesn’t release me; his kiss is hard, as though branding me his in a way words alone cannot.

  His fingers stroke close to my scar and then across it. I freeze, waiting for him to … I’m not even sure. Pull away? Push against it? At the very least, ask questions. But his cheek rubs across my forehead and his hands continue their gentle exploration as though he didn’t notice. He slides his fingers to each side of my face, warming my clammy skin.

  “Tave,” he whispers, his lips feather light.

  “What?” I whisper back, my fingers finding a sensitive curve of his neck and making him shiver.

  He bends his head so his mouth is right by my ear. “Run away with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s go underground,” he says, gripping my hand in tight fists. One of the cuts on his right knuckle cracks open and oozes a tiny droplet of blood. “These people chasing you—Reduciata, Curatoria, whoever—if you stay here, they’re going to find you. And when they do, they are going to kill you.” He looks down and shifts back and forth a few times. “I was going to suggest you take the money and leave on your own to find whoever Quinn is now, but if—if you really want me—”

  “I do, Benson,” I interrupt, not willing to let him have the slightest moment’s doubt about that.

  “Then—then I’ll come too. But we have to be fast and thorough. These people, they’ve found us again and again and I can’t let them hurt you. Not now. We have to go seriously underground, Tave. It’s going to be hard core. Leave my phone, ditch the car, change our identities, everything.” The fear in his eyes terrifies the glee out of me.

  “What about your family?” I ask. “This isn’t like when you left Portsmouth with me. If we run tonight, I don’t know if there’s any coming back. Ever.”

  “There’s not,” he says, determined.

  “You’ve
already made your decision.”

  “I decided yesterday—with or without you, I’m going to run. I’m hip deep in all this stuff already. If we both went to ground in different directions, we’d probably be safer.” He sighs and bunches his fists on his hips. “But to tell the truth, I’m willing to risk just about anything to be with you.”

  “I have no family anymore, Benson. But I can’t pretend it’s the same for you. You might never be able to see your mom and brother again.”

  He looks down, his emotions burning in his eyes. “I can’t—I can’t live my life for them anymore. Some bonds are stronger than blood; you’re my family now.”

  The same words that filled my own thoughts just yesterday. It’s the final confirmation I need.

  Me and Benson.

  Benson and me.

  We’ll take on the world and win.

  Benson squeezes my hand. “We should go. Now.”

  I nod, feeling sudden confidence in our plan. “How should we leave?” I ask. “I mean, since we have to ditch the car?” The stolen car. Maybe the cops will find it and give it back to whoever it belongs to.

  “Greyhound?” Benson suggests. “It’s not luxurious or anything, but it’ll get us far enough away to consider our options. We can park a few blocks from the nearest station and leave the Honda behind. You pick the city,” he says, stepping forward, his face close to mine. “Anywhere you want to go.”

  “As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter.”

  He kisses my forehead, then pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking even more like the Superman I’ve always thought of him as. “I’ll look up a bus station and then ditch this in a Dumpster.”

  “You got that from a movie.”

  He laughs. “Maybe, but the good guys always win in the movies, right?”

  I start to turn to get into the car, but Benson holds onto my hands. “When we get on the bus,” he says hesitantly, “we need to talk. Really … talk.”

  “Absolutely,” I say, but my heart speeds a little at the look on his face.

  “I think we should talk now.”

  We both spin at the intruding voice only to see what still appears to be an empty clearing. Then, in a circle around us, we hear the unmistakable click of guns being cocked. I cling to Benson, my eyes scanning the trees. Just as I’m sure no one is going to appear before they shoot us, Jay steps out from behind a tree.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Let’s all stay calm,” Jay says in a soft, even tone that makes me want to reach out and smack him. My mind spins with defensive plans.

  More cast iron, insta-shotguns, bulletproof glass … assuming I could make something that high tech, which I’m suddenly not convinced is within my capabilities.

  But Benson is here.

  I won’t risk him.

  Can’t risk him.

  This is the problem with love.

  “Peace offering,” Jay says, drawing my attention back. He’s holding up what I vaguely recognize as several of the organic, all-natural protein bars that Reese keeps around the house.

  A weird nostalgia hits me. That will never be my life again.

  “No one’s here to kill you, Tave,” Jay says, as though reading my mind. “All of this—” His hand takes in the unseen guns surrounding us, hidden from sight by the broad-leafed trees. “Just a precaution. After what you did to Elizabeth and me, I think it’s understandable.”

  He edges forward like he’s approaching a skittish colt. Despite what he just said, he doesn’t seem afraid of me; he looks like he’s worried I’m afraid of him.

  Which I am. Terrified. But I don’t want him to know.

  The sun is shining down into the middle of the clearing with a vengeance that defies the bitter cold of the last few days, but despite that, my veins are ice water.

  “I know you need to eat,” Jay says, still holding out the bars. “I’m not sure what you’ve been doing, but I’ve seen enough Earthbounds on the run to recognize that look; you’re about five minutes away from fainting.”

  Even though every nerve in my body is poised to bolt, I force myself to meet his eyes and then take two slow steps forward and snatch the protein bars, immediately retreating back to Benson as soon as the food is in my hand. I rip open the wrapper and take a bite, keeping my eyes on Jay the whole time.

  To tell the truth, he looks awful. Those circles under his eyes—they speak of more than sleep deprivation. And his skin has a weird quality to it—like it grew a size too big and is now hanging off him. Melting, almost. “Are you all right, Jay?” I ask through a half-chewed protein bar.

  Jay doesn’t answer, just makes a small motion, and Reese and Elizabeth step out from the brush and join him with that same tentative slowness. I’ve already torn open the next protein bar and taken a big bite, but at the sight of those two my mouth turns dry.

  Even though I know they were telling the truth.

  Even though it was probably a mistake to leave them in the first place.

  But they’re still the ones controlling the guns pointed at me—at the guy I love. It’s hard not to think of them as the enemy when they’re pointing weapons at us.

  “We just want to talk,” Reese says, before I can speak.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask when the second bar is gone—which takes a remarkably short time, and I’m already opening the third. “I thought you were Curatoria. Aren’t you supposed to help Earthbound?”

  Are they?

  Supposed to. Or so they say.

  Rebecca considered them more trustworthy than the Reduciata, but what kind of standard is that?

  “We are,” Reese says. “And we’re trying our damnedest to keep you alive, but you’re not making it very easy.”

  The shock of the whole situation is wearing off and I’m not afraid anymore.

  I’m pissed.

  “If you had trusted me with any amount of information, maybe I wouldn’t have been so high strung. Do you have any idea what the last week has been like for me?” I snap.

  “If you had trusted us with any information about what you were experiencing, maybe we could have helped,” she replies without emotion.

  I close my mouth. I’m not going to play this blame-trading game. “You’re not my aunt and uncle, are you?” I ask, not bothering to hide the accusation in my voice.

  The question hangs in the air, one they obviously don’t want to answer. “No,” Reese finally says. “My name is Samantha. Sammi.”

  I almost laugh at the nickname. It matches her pert blond hair and doll-like stature but is completely at odds with her formal, businesslike personality. “And you?” I say, whipping my head around to Jay, who I realize is leaning against the tree now—like standing takes too much effort.

  “Mark. Just Mark,” he adds awkwardly.

  “Why pretend?” I ask, shooting my words at him.

  “To get you into protective custody without shocking you with everything all at once. It was hard enough for you to deal with your parents dying—not to mention the physical trauma—without pushing a bunch of supernatural stuff on you as well. We were trying to be gentle, while still keeping you safe and hidden.”

  “Did you kill my real aunt and uncle before you stole their identities?”

  “That is not how we work, Tavia,” Sammi snaps, plainly offended. “They’re alive and well and think you died in the crash. And trust me, falsifying TSA documents is no picnic.”

  “Tavia,” Elizabeth says, speaking up for the first time, “if there’s anything I have ever said that you believed, please believe this: Sammi and Mark and I have dedicated every waking moment for more than the last year to keeping you safe.”

  “Not to mention eighteen years ago,” Reese—Sammi—adds in a mutter.

  Elizabeth shoots her a look and continues. “We almost lost you in the plane crash, and that failure has plagued us every single day. There are no three people in the world who you’re safer with than us. I promise you that.”


  Safer than with Benson? I think wryly. Not a chance. But I say nothing, just reach back for Benson’s hands. He’s staying quiet, letting me speak, rant, accuse. But he hasn’t moved an inch, his warm chest a solid support against my back. As steadfast as any of these ancient trees. He makes me feel strong. Bold. Better.

  “Please,” Elizabeth says, “let us take you somewhere safe—we’ll talk about anything you want then, but we’re tempting fate by staying out here in the open.”

  “We’re pretty off-road,” I reply sarcastically, gesturing at the thick foliage around us.

  “Anything but bulletproof walls is out in the open as far as I’m concerned,” Sammi snaps. “Please, let us take you to a safe house.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I retort. “I don’t want anything to do with the Curatoria or the Reduciata.”

  “To be honest, I don’t think you’ll last long on your own. I’ve never seen the Reduciata hunt someone this seriously. Taking down an entire plane?” Mark says, confirming my suspicions. “That’s brutal even for them. We managed to get to the car crash in Bath about an hour after it happened, and to tell the truth, we thought they’d gotten you at that hotel in Freeport.”

  I clench my jaw. They were never far behind. But still farther behind than the Reduciata, who have been getting progressively closer and closer. I want to take Benson and run—I want it so badly—but would it be a death sentence for us both?

  “They want you,” Mark continues. “Specifically, and very badly. After the plane wreck we had to take you and hide you because when you were the sole survivor, the Reduciata immediately knew they’d failed to assassinate you. Only an Earthbound could have survived that crash.”

  My fingers clutch Benson’s icy skin. “What is it about this crash that started everything? I don’t understand. I didn’t know anything then.”

  “An Earthbound’s self-preservation instinct is incredibly strong,” Sammi says simply, as though we were discussing the migratory patterns of butterflies. “Awareness that borders on precognition, impulse self-defense in disciplines the Earthbound has never learned in conscious memory, that sort of thing. Sudden re-awakenings of powers in life-threatening scenarios is the least of what I’ve seen in my time. The simple need to stay alive brought your ability forth. We’re not sure exactly what you did, but somehow your instincts kicked in and you created something to save yourself.”