Intertwined

Chapter Twenty

There should have been a black circle of ash in the center of my room from the constant circles that I was etching into the wood floors. I still couldn't find balance, but standing idly made it that much worse. I had to walk, had to move, had to avoid Lyall's eyes that promised his death.

I must have missed the sound of the front door opening and missed the sound of boots and sneakers running up the stairs because suddenly the four of my friends were in my room, their faces all mimicking watered down versions of mine. Fear I'd never seen in Marleene's eyes, the undiluted end-of-the-world fear echoed in silence. How long had they been here? How long have I been crying?

"We'll find him," Erica tried to say, her own voice thick and gruff.

I could only point at the desk in my room, unable to look, unable to speak.

"What?" Marleene asked.

"Look," I spat.

I could tell the moment Marleene had caught up to my mood when a hand clasped over her mouth. Gags thumped from under her hand as she ran out of my room. Erica walked over to pick up the sketchbook. She too started to cry.

"Lyall's next," Mike said, empty, hopeless.

The room filled with emotion, the boys shook while Erica started to gasp, the sound triggering a gasping of my own. We waited too long. It had been too much time. We didn't find the culprit fast enough and Lyall was going to die because of it. Lyall was going to die, and I wouldn't care what happened to me after. The blood of the male banshee meant nothing to me. My blood would be spilt and I couldn't find the will to fear that ending, my ending.

A sharp sniffle and the sound of boots at the entrance to my bedroom pulled whatever attention I had left to it.

"It's not over yet," Marleene hissed. "Lyall is not dead yet."

"But I drew him," I said, trying to figure the words out.

"Did you scream," she asked, returning to her authoritative tone, "Emerson, look at me. Did you scream?"

"No, I haven't–"

"Can you feel his warmth still?"

I reached out, attempting to feel him, and I could, but I was cold, too cold without that overpowering feeling. It was a dim echo of the flame before.

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Then we find him," Marleene said.

"But how?" Mike interjected.

"There are no trails anywhere near his house, there's nothing to go off of," Jason added.

Marleene refused to accept defeat and I had to find some sort of relief in that. I wouldn't be able to move if there was no hope. I had to borrow her confidence. I used it to stand out of the ball I'd curled into.

"He can't die, I don't even know how he could have even been caught. He's the alpha," Erica said.

"Alpha means nothing when it comes to magick," Marleene said, eyeing me, "but he's strong enough to hold them off until we get there to help him."

"Then what do we do," I yelled.

"Remember what Lyall said, how he'd found you that night?" Marleene asked, back to her stoic self.

I didn't have time to wonder when he'd told her that. "Yes."

"Do what he did. Feel the warmth, let it lead you to him."

Again, a role I didn't want fell to me, but for Lyall, I'd do anything. I closed my eyes, trying to find the fire that was slipping further and further away from my grasp. I had to focus on not losing my mind. I had to ignore the fact that the warmth felt like it was getting dimmer and dimmer by the second. It was like a rope that was slathered in oil. Trying to get a secure hold on it was impossible.