Dead River - By Cyn Balog Page 0,67
a stupid brat. I got myself into this. I should just accept the consequences.”
“Kiandra, I’ll be the first to tell you when you are being a brat. You ain’t a brat for accepting this.”
“No, listen. Jack did this to me. He knew that my mother would try and bring me back. He wants her to do this. He wants to weaken her. If I let her do this, we’re just playing into his hands.”
He nods, unsurprised, and starts to speak, but I put my hand up to silence him. Because, right then, I realize something. “You knew that all this time, didn’t you? Ever since I got here. That’s why you’ve been protecting me. You knew he’d try to hurt me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I told you he was dangerous. What more did you want?” He’d been reaching for my hand, but now he just digs both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You were just a girl who stepped on a hornet’s nest, is all. I thought all I needed to do was get you away from the nest. I didn’t want you to know about your momma, about this Mistress of the Waters stuff, because I knew you wouldn’t leave. I’m sorry, Kiandra, but the only way you’re gonna make your momma happy is if you do this. And I’m gonna help her.”
“Maybe I don’t care about making her happy. Why do you follow her so blindly?” I say, my voice rising an octave. “What has she done for you that you keep bending over backward for her?”
He doesn’t say anything, just stands there on top of the boulder, rocking on his heels. From his expression, I can’t even be sure he’s listening.
“She’s not your mother. You may feel guilty about leaving your mother, and your mother may be a saint, but that lady across the river is not her,” I say. “My mother was dying and couldn’t even say goodbye to me. She might have been sick, but she could have had more time with me, and instead, she left. Why should I care about whether or not I make her happy? And you keep following her around, doing whatever she tells you to. You sound pathetic.”
His eyes snap to mine. So he was listening. I catch my breath when I realize all the hurtful things I’ve just said. His face begins to cloud, from clear indifference to a perfect mix of anger and disappointment. His brow sinks, and lines form around his eyes. Still, he says nothing. I open my mouth to apologize but only a muffled sound comes out, because I don’t know what to say. I know what I should do, though. To save him, my mother, the kingdom, I have to leave. I have to run away and never be found.
I turn and run. Trey calls to me to stop, but I keep going. I expect Trey to catch up to me, to grab me, but I am ahead of him, out of his reach. How is it I am so nimble, so graceful? I’m running so fast that everything is a blur around me. The farther I race, the more I know that this is the right thing to do. To be alone, not responsible for anyone else. All at once I feel brave and invincible and athletic, things that I never felt before. The feeling is strangely exhilarating.
I come to a stop when I see something moving among the trees. Slowly, it drags itself along, scraping up the forest floor. Letting the air fill my lungs, I turn. Trey is gone. At first I think it’s an awkward, large animal, like a moose, but it stills at the same time I do. I get the feeling it’s watching me. Now, through the leaves, I can make out crisp pink cloth. I duck my head lower and see the shoes. Girls’ white T-buckle shoes, the surface more scuffs than patent leather. One delicate knee-high is up, and one is pooling around her ankle. I strain to remember her name. “Vi?” My voice is a loud whisper.
I know she can’t answer me. Every time she opens her mouth, that foul black mud will pour over her chin. She doesn’t come toward me, though. She stays there, perfectly still. The forest is so quiet that I can hear her breathing.
“I know it’s you,” I call pleasantly, because she’s a child, and a jumpy one, and I half expect her to run