front of me and find blood running down my fingers on my right hand. I turn my arm side to side a bit faster now trying to find the start of the wound. The blood feels sticky against my palm, and it takes me a minute to realize what has happened.
I take a step toward Asher and Gabriel who are both waiting for my answer. When I lick the substance from the side of my hand, Asher’s eyes darken in confusion. Somewhere beneath the fear and anxiety and the false confidence, a smile pushes its way onto my lips. Just faintly, but it’s there.
“Tayberries,” I say, licking the juice off the side of my palm again. “You were right; they’re delicious.”
Seven
Creation
Gabriel leaves as stealthily as he came. Asher pauses, unmoving, for a long moment even after his friend is out of sight, worry shadowing his features. He stands motionless in the quiet forest like he expects, at any moment, to hear his friend’s death in the distance of the trees.
I wait for him to finish waiting. The silence lets the events of the day sink into my bones, making me tired. I try not to fidget with my sticky satchel of crushed berries or to run my fingers along the healed spot on my neck he kissed less than an hour ago. So little time has passed, but so much has happened.
After a long moment, Asher starts walking toward the river without any explanation and I don’t press him to speak. Our lack of willingness to make conversation in the most basic of day-to-day interactions makes our strange silence now feel … comfortable. Asher is used to not speaking, and I’m used to not being spoken to.
The compatible silence the two of us share doesn’t aid the tangle of dread in my stomach that’s become an ongoing part of me. The need to understand what we’re doing out here, what we’re doing for Asher is growing every day.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we trek through the thick forest. His eyes haven’t stopped darting through the trees, and he moves with unusual grace while I trip over every overturned tree branch and vine.
“The veil, they’re not common. The government and the compound have worked to destroy and contain nearly all of them. The one back there, he’s probably one of a dozen of his kind left,” he explains, not looking at me. Reciting information like a textbook. He pauses to hold a vine littered with thorns back for me to pass.
The veil are on the verge of extinction, but one’s running loose among us? Being used for Shaw’s personal dirty work because he can’t bear to lose the hybrid he wants so badly to destroy?
What else could Shaw be harboring in the walls of that prison?
“It came from the compound, though?” I ask quietly.
He pauses to look at me, his eyebrows low in thought, and I instantly want to take my question back. It’s none of my business.
“You’re not used to asking questions, are you?” He stops walking and waits, with anger flashing through his eyes, for me to answer.
His look makes me hesitant, but I answer with honesty just as he has with me. “No. There are a lot of things I avoid in my life. It’s easier just to push them away. To not think of them at all. Most questions hold answers I’d rather not know. Or the questions are left unanswered.” I ramble on trying to make it sound alright, but he’s still giving me that half-confused-half-angry, sympathetic look and it’s painful to meet his eyes.
“You don’t ever have to justify yourself to anyone. Especially me. But you deserve to know things that affect you. Everyone deserves to be included in their own life, Fallon.” He’s speaking softly and the anger has washed away from his crystal eyes. “The last few veil are locked away at the compound. Shaw was ordered to terminate the ones being held there, but he continued to study and run tests on them in a secure ward.” He starts walking again, and I follow close behind.
“What are they?” I ask, trying to push the image of its rotting flesh from my mind.
He opens his mouth slightly before closing it again. The trees surrounding us are starting to get less thick and I can almost hear the sound of the river up ahead. Asher looks toward the sky in the distance, between the nearly bare branches. I