The Gates - By Rachael Wade Page 0,2

time now came true—an uprising had unfolded and hit its peak. The Amaranthians were finally rebelling against my mother’s reign and wanted out of this exile, wanted to return to earth to enjoy their human lives. Soon, Samira would send more guards into the city to control the rebellion, to stop the Amaranthians from escaping and returning to earth. I knew what her control entailed. It meant a massacre.

Getting closer to the gates, I ducked my head and winced each time I spotted a guard soaring over me. In mere minutes I would be outside the exile walls, free to make my way to the portal that led to earth, where surely a crowd would be gathering, waiting their turn to ascend to the bayou to make their escape. The crescent moon cycle, the one that declared the portal was open, was present. It was the only time visitors could travel between earth and Amaranth. This must have been planned. Samira’s guards would no doubt wipe out the city to regain control. She wouldn’t kill everyone off. Would she? She couldn’t. She would lose her power if she had no energy to draw from. Do I want this? Do I want to return to earth as human? Could I ever return to Joel? Could I forgive him and leave all of this behind?

It was now, or never. An opportunity such as this would never present itself to the Amaranthians again.

Struggling through the crush of villagers, I finally made it outside the exile walls, past the gates, and fought my way toward the portal entry, where my new fate awaited. Finding, then focusing on the maze in the distance, I charged forward with other Amaranthians who clearly had the same idea I did—to leave and never return to this godforsaken place. If I made it back to earth alive, a new season would begin, and I would embrace the change with every ounce of my being. Would there be enough time for the sea of people to make it through the portal? There was no way everyone would make it out alive. Too much hysteria. Humans rarely passed through the portal as it was. If they dared to travel here from earth, they were killed, or changed, immediately upon arrival to Amaranth. So the sight of hundreds and hundreds of warm human bodies surging the portal entry to escape was a foreign one, and alarmingly … inspiring.

I pushed my way through the crowd but was forced to wait my turn to get to the portal door, and watched, helpless, while people were trampled to their deaths, clawing their way to get to the underground tunnel. All I could picture was my mother, rotting away in her wicked kingdom, all alone after the Amaranthians and guards had left her desolate in her exile. Surely my father would leave her to die the worst kind of death: a sad, lonely, never-ending existence.

1

GONE WITH THE WIND

Present Day, England

Camille

“Are you sure you want to do this, Cam?” Gavin raised his eyebrows, which stopped me in front of the charming Victorian bed-and-breakfast. We’d arrived at the hotel a few days ago, after slipping away from Paris, narrowly escaping Arianna’s wrath when she learned Joel was dead. Gavin dipped into his luscious bank account to take over my expenses while we took time to exit reality—leaving Arianna some time to calm down—and to figure out how to arrange a war with the undead. Returning from our walk, I stood on the hotel porch and gazed out at the English countryside, vast and green, with rolling hills and clouds that belonged in dreams.

“Am I sure? Are you sure that’s going to be the last time you ask me that?” I said. “I think that’s five times since we got in the car, and you promised you wouldn’t ask again.” I squeezed his hand and pulled him toward the front door. I was marrying him if I had to drag him down the damn aisle.

“Camille, we still haven’t talked about—”

“Sex? We’ve talked about it plenty. I get it. You want to be human, and it doesn’t look like that’s happening anytime soon, so … end of discussion. The minister’s inside waiting.”

“All right, all right. But why do I feel like this should be the other way around?” He chuckled as I began towing him through the doors, lowering his voice. “This just seems rash, even for you.”

Pleased at hearing “rash,” I smiled to myself, then swung around to look