Tainted

Chapter Thirty-Four

The sounds of wails reach my ears. At this point, I can't see anything. I hold my hand in front of my face, directly in front of my eyes, and it's completely cloaked in blackness. I feel completely blind, and the thought brings chills down my spine.

My skin turns into ice when all goes completely silent. The only sounds I hear are my footsteps, my breathing, and my accelerating heart beat.

Chills run up my spine as a feeling overwhelms me that I'm not alone in the darkness. I dare myself to call out to see if anyone will respond, but fear shoves my voice down my throat before I can even speak.

I close my eyes as the darkness starts to weigh on my sanity. The darkness is too solid, too endless for me to handle with open eyes. I stretch my hands out in front of me as I take more blind steps forward, and the sound of the ground crunching beneath my feet is an easy distraction from the thick darkness and eerie silence.

I stop at once, my instincts telling me that something is definitely wrong. And I reach out again, arms perfectly straight in front of me, and they land on an object.

I gasp and immediately try to defend myself as hot terror fills me like molten lava. I push the object away, and I back away, slowing down quickly because I don't trust the ground beneath me. I become stiff as I hear nothing, and I force my stone-like limbs to operate and move toward the potential threat.

I reach out and grab ahold of it this time.

I recognize the object as an arm. Immediately my eyes widen, and it seems that from within I realize who the arm belongs to, and I feel my body heat up a thousand times over my normal body temperate. I don't feel overheated, but I begin to notice a glow coming from behind me, or maybe it is me, but as my desire to see the face of this mysterious being intensifies, so does the soft, orange glow.

Upside down and unconscious hangs Ian. My breath is snatched away from me as I observe his injuries: his bloody hands, his scuffled face, his now crooked nose.

Automatically, I find myself pulling on the strings that are holding Ian up, using more and more power until it breaks, and before Ian can even fall, I catch him with a strength that doesn't belong to my arms.

I lay him on the ground softly, and at the same time my eyes fill with warm tears. I kneel next to him and place my hand on his face. His skin is cool to the touch, but not cold, and his forehead is warm. My thumb traces his lips and my other hand caresses his head, his soft hair strands tickling my fingertips.

"Ian." I whisper his name. His body lies motionless in my arms, his face empty of expression. A quiet stream of tears travels down my cheek, and I pull Ian's body close to mine. My heart shatters as I grip him tighter, and I mentally hope, mentally pray, mentally beg for life to return to him.

My want seems palpable, as I see through my eyelids the illumination from me brighten. Its color seems to become warmer, livelier, and as I crush Ian's body into me, I feel my heartbeat accelerate, and then I feel it double.

My eyes snap open when I feel the strength of beating hearts, and I realize that there is another heart beating. I pull away from Ian so I can see his face, and I see his eyebrows furrowing and his eyelids twitching.

"Ian!" I repeat his name with pure glee and optimism, and his eyes open slowly. He blinks rapidly, and his irises are the color of my glow, but it fades with each blink. "Can you hear me?"

He nods in response as his eyes return to their normal green, and he breaks the seal on his lips to speak. "Rain," is all he croaks out. It sounds like he hasn't used his voice is centuries, but he desperately tries to clear his throat and speak.