Half Lost (The Half Bad Trilogy #3) - Sally Green Page 0,4
and put my arm over my face.
I’ve not told Gabriel about the two Hunters because he’ll tell Greatorex and she’ll move the camp and I need to check on the Hunters before then. But first I need to sleep. Since Marcus died I’ve not slept much. I need sleep, then I can go and check on the Hunters. Or maybe leave it another day. Tomorrow I can scout to the south. Check if there’s any sign of Annalise there, then come back here, then go to the Hunters’ bodies. I need to get some more food as well. So, south and rabbit traps tomorrow, and dead Hunters and hopefully some live ones too the day after.
I realize I’m staring at my arm; I’ve still got my eyes open. I have to remember to close my eyes. I’ve got to sleep.
* * *
We’re sitting close together, legs dangling over the outcrop. Leaves flutter down. Annalise’s tanned leg is close to mine. She reaches out for a falling leaf, grabbing it and my sleeve at the same time. She turns back to me, holding the leaf in front of my face, getting my attention, and she taps my nose with the leaf. Her eyes sparkle, the silver glints twisting quickly. Her skin is smooth and velvety and I want to touch her. I try to lean forward but I can’t move and I’m tied down on a bench and Wallend is standing over me, saying, “This may feel a little strange,” and he puts the metal against my neck, and then I’m kneeling in the forest and my father is on the ground in front of me bleeding out from his stomach. I’m holding the Fairborn and feeling it vibrate in my hand as if it’s alive and desperate to get on with the job. My right hand is holding Marcus’s shoulder, feeling his jacket. And my father says, “You can do it.” And we begin. The first cut is through his shirt and his flesh in one long stroke and then we cut across that, deeper. Then a third cut, deeper still, slicing through the ribs as if they’re paper. The blood covers Marcus’s skin and my hands, hot but cooling quickly. I put my fingers round his heart, and feel its beat as I lean forward. Bite. Blood spurts into my mouth. I’m gagging but I swallow. And I take another bite and look into my father’s eyes and he’s staring
* * *
I wake up coughing and puking and sweating. Gabriel shuffles over and holds me. And I hold on to him. And he doesn’t say anything, just holds me, and that’s good. We stay like that for a long time and eventually he says, “Can you tell me what happens in your dream?”
But I don’t want to think about it. And no way am I going to talk about it. Gabriel knows what I did, what I had to do to take my father’s Gifts. Gabriel saw me afterward, covered in blood, but at least he didn’t see me do it. He thinks that if I talk about it I might feel better but talking about it isn’t going to change a thing about what I did and all that will happen is he’ll know how disgusting it was and—
“Nathan, talk to me, please.”
And then he says, “It was a dream, wasn’t it? You would tell me if you’d had another vision, wouldn’t you?”
I push him away. I wish I hadn’t told him I’ve started having visions.
Practice
It’s morning. I’m running back to my camp. I’m not feeling too bad now. I’ve done a long run: a few hours in the dark straight after I woke from the dream and Gabriel started pestering me about visions. Running helps me. When I run I can concentrate on the forest, the trees, the ground, and I can think better. And I can practice my Gifts.
I go invisible. I’m best at that now, but I’ve had to work at it. I have to think of being transparent, of being air. Breathe in and let myself become like air. And once I’m invisible I can stay like that if I concentrate on my breathing.
I can shoot out lightning from my hands too. For that I need to clap my hands together, as if I’m striking stones together to create a spark. The first time that’s all it was, but now I can make long bolts of lightning that stretch for ten meters.