Defying Destiny (Afterword Academy #3) - Katie May Page 0,38

feels like I’m breathing in the wet air you’d find inside a sauna. Each inhale of breath takes an enormous amount of effort, but I’m left panting, even though I’m not even moving.

Still only wearing boxers, my pale skin quickly begins to burn. I can only imagine how Preston would fare in a world like this. Poor guy is Casper incarnate—which is fucking ironic, considering I’m the Ghost.

With my feet sinking into the huge sand dunes, I make my way down one and steadily climb up another. I know I don’t require food or drink in the Afterlife, but shit, am I thirsty. My tongue feels like sandpaper, my lips parched and burning.

“Hadley! Brax! Pres! Auston!”

My calls are almost muffled, drowned by the fierce wind battering against me. Sand stings my eyes, making it almost impossible to see. I don’t know where to go or what to do. If I could still make myself invisible, I’d just plow through this desert, hovering over the burning sands until I found everyone. I could still do it I suppose. I’ve not lost my ability to walk through objects, but doing it while still materialized makes me feel sick. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open to see where I was going.

So I can’t.

I’m less of a Ghost than I’ve ever been, and it scares me. Me, a Ghost, is scared.

Oh, the irony…

A whisper in the wind draws my attention, and I squint against the battering sands, looking for its source. The sound travels past me faster than I can pick it up, and I turn to follow it, only for another to race past. It’s like being in the center of a huge canyon. Echoes from anyone looking down seem to come from everywhere at once. I can’t pinpoint them.

Turning and spinning, my eyes strain to see until I grow dizzy from looking.

This is fucking torture.

Where is my Hadley? Is she okay?

How can she survive this as weak as she is? And my brothers… Did they survive the utter darkness or have they all suffered a cruel end here in Hell?

Unanswered questions plague me as I force my legs to keep moving. Whispers tickle my ears, their words so unintelligible that I’m sure it’s Hell at work here. I try to ignore them, but it feels like a cluster of gnats is buzzing inside my ear, annoying and unable to dismiss.

My legs give way, and I roll down the hot sands to the bottom of a dune, only to look up and find myself at the base of a looming, sandy mountain. Sticky with sweat, my skin is now covered in sand like a fucking piece of breaded chicken ready for the deep fryer.

Then I see it, a shadow of black soaring above my head. Adrenaline pumping, I race up the sand, my thighs protesting with each step, until I reach the top.

“Brax!” I shout, opening my arms up to my Demon brother. He crashes into my chest, hugging me tighter than I think he ever has. Seems he’s not the only one rattled by all of this.

“Seen anyone else?” he asks, pulling away from me to gaze around at the rolling hills of sand.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Just us so far.”

A scream sounds, and we jerk our heads as a flailing figure falls from the sky.

“Preston!” we scream at the same time as Braxton takes off into the sky to intercept. His black Demon wings are a stark contrast to what I now notice is an orange sky. He looks like a Halloween picture, a bat flying high during the sunset on a spooky night.

I see him grab Preston and fly back towards me, dropping our Reaper down onto the sand before landing. Pres shakes his head, and I offer him a hand. “Thanks,” he says, accepting it as I pull him to his feet.

“You okay, bro?” I ask, checking him over for injuries. Other than a slash across one ankle, he looks unharmed.

“I think so?” His words are uncertain, and his usually pale face is flushed, the sun baking his exposed skin.

“Good. Then we need to keep moving,” Brax insists, turning around. He storms off with no destination in mind, black wings hanging off his back. Though fully healed, I can’t imagine how hot it must be to carry them around right now, like a hot, thick, leather blanket draped across him.

We walk for what feels like hours, until our legs feel like they want to