The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) (12 page)

Tyler looked
concerned and stoked my cheek.

"Now, don't
worry. You won't feel a single thread. The next thing you know,
it'll all be over and you won't have a care in the world."

"I'll drink
bleach," I whispered to myself, but Tyler didn't hear me.

He rolled up
his sleeves and picked up a sharp looking scalpel. My ears started
to buzz and as the cold seeped further I felt a sort of numbness
spreading. This moment was the end. I would be cut apart and put
back together with no memory of my mother, Marty, or anything about
the quest to find Cirrus. I tried to look back at my life, honestly
I did, but found it entirely meaningless.

Ashamed, I
closed my eyes to the sky.

Tyler was about
to lower the scalpel to my neck when I heard a familiar voice
yelling frantically from far off. Tyler hesitated and the knife
froze an inch above my skin. As the voice grew louder – I was sure
I had heard it before – Tyler sighed and stood up straight from the
table.

Through my
eyelids, I couldn't see anything but a dim flicker of movement. But
I was too frightened to see what was happening in case I was
already dead. Dead and stuffed with cotton, stitched up with thread
and ready to pose in front of an ornamental house plant. But when
nothing happened, I opened my eyes a crack; only a crack but it was
enough to see that the tables had curiously turned.

Tyler had put
the scalpel down and was staring furiously at a man fighting his
way through the crowd below. It was only a few more moments before
Cirrus pushed his way clear, purple cloud lingering faintly around
his legs.

His blond hair
was disarrayed and he wasn't wearing his spectacles. He opened his
mouth to speak, his face a mask of fury and storm clouds, but
before he could say anything his eyes met mine. He saw the surgical
knife glinting in the festival lights. He went white.

And my heart
sang because even though I had lost the Walk, I might not die. He
might not let me die.

Cirrus lurched
forward up the steps and, pushing Tyler aside, started to
frantically untie me. His breath was short as he hoisted my body
off the table. The dreamcatcher throbbed, singing out to its
partner, and I hiccupped a breath of desperate relief.

My legs were
filled with Jello and I didn't feel like they could ever hold me
again. I gripped Cirrus and desperately tried to breathe in air as
the sobs forced themselves from my throat. His hands were strong
and gripped my arm. It hurt but I wished it was tighter.

Cirrus turned
back to Tyler, who was looking angry and put out.

"What were you
doing?" Cirrus spat, holding me to him protectively. I clung to his
chest like a lost child.

Tyler's eyes
flashed dangerously. "You know very well what I was doing, Cirrus.
I've been doing it for years."

"This girl is
special! You knew that from the start! She was traveling my train
for a reason." He pulled out his pocket watch and shook it in front
of Tyler's face. Some part of my mind sharpened at the sight of it
but not soon enough. "The Reign Walk is in motion!"

"She had
accepted it, Cirrus. She was still and it could have been over by
now and the Festival would have recommenced."

"Maggie is not
to be touched." Cirrus ordered.

"Take the
necklace! Take it and win! But leave her here for me."

"That is not an
option."

The two men
stared at each other, twin pillars of defiance. Tyler's fingers
twitched and Cirrus curled his arms tighter around my
shoulders.

"I see," Tyler
said quietly. "We both have uses for her, don't we?"

Tyler made a
motion towards his men. They started to move around the table, but
stopped short. Cirrus suddenly had the scalpel knife in his
hand.

"Come on,
Maggie," Cirrus said, his eyes never leaving Tyler's face. "We can
leave now."

"You must be a
desperate man. It's not in your nature to threaten a man with a
knife. What does Maggie have that you would kill for?" His voice
curled quietly into the tense air. Cirrus didn't answer. "A way
out, perhaps?" Tyler bent grotesquely to look around Cirrus at me.
I winced and crept back to the edge of the table. "You were to be
my way out, Maggie. But as you can see we have a certain
competition."

"There's no
competition, Tyler. Do you think she wants to be made into a doll?"
Cirrus asked harshly.

"Do you think
she wants to share her life with you?" Tyler spat back. Cirrus
lurched back in shock and my stomach flipped. "Oh yes, everyone
knows. Everyone in the Wilds, anyway. And you've only confirmed all
the whispers by descending from on high to grace us with your
presence." Tyler grinned and the fabric flapped in the wind above
his head. "What a horrible fate for a young girl to have a sick man
such as you seeking solace in her mind and bodyfor the rest of her
life."

"You think
I'm
sick?!" Cirrus sputtered.

I was scared to
move for fear of calling more attention to myself. Instead, I was
surreptitiously scanning for a way out. There was no doubt in my
mind that whoever won, I would not be in a good position. Cirrus's
grip was no longer protective; it was possessive.
Come on,
Maggie. Come on and think. Get out of here.
Something needed to
happen.

It was then
that I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the coal man. The same
coal man who had dragged me onto the train, watched me through the
window and slipped the knife into my jacket pocket. He was standing
amongst the townspeople. And his eyes flickered to the table.

I followed his
gaze to the large bag of cotton sitting on the edge. An idea jumped
into my mind and, like many ideas fashioned in desperate times, it
was a bad one. But it was the only one I had.

"Fine," I said,
my eyes darting back from the bag of cotton to Tyler. I tried to
look coy, but what does a 22 year-old girl know about being coy?
Being coy in college was acting proud if you managed to shoot more
than one ping pong ball into a plastic beer cup. This was much
harder.

"What?" gasped
Cirrus. He watched in disbelief as I hoisted myself onto the table.
Tyler's face lit up in a bright smile and he rubbed his hands
together.

"Do you see
now, Cirrus? Lucky Creek holds promises for Maggie that you never
could!" Tyler snatched back the knife and Cirrus let him, eyes
still staring at me in dazed shock.

Tyler turned
around to face him and the townsfolk, all of whom were standing in
stillness. The coal man's eyes met mine. Behind my back, I took a
firm hold of the bag.

Time to take
this sick fuck down
, I thought. Ok, that's a lie. What I
probably thought was,
Gahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Tyler was still
talking. The bastard really loved the sound of his own voice.

"It's funny,
isn't it, how the creation takes what is of his creator? And by her
own choice, too! You've made a name for yourself here, Cirrus.
Cheer up, you won! All hail the new King!" I came to my knees on
the table behind Tyler and raised the bag over my head. Not one of
the townspeople blinked an eye.

"And after I
change the world, your name will be even more infamous for creating
a visionary like me!" Cirrus's eyes widened, but Tyler didn't
notice his alarm as the bag came down with as much force as I could
muster atop his head.

The cotton
wasn't nearly hard enough to hurt Tyler. In fact, it was rather
like the pillow fights in sleepovers. Not that I knew that – I
never had sleepovers. Besides, Mom always said that pillow fights
were dangerous, and a waste of goose feathers. But although I had
never had friends over or fought with pillows, I knew how to get
enough velocity in a moving object to knock a person over. And I
put as much force into this swing as I possibly could.

The bag of
cotton struck Tyler on the side of his head and he was knocked
sideways into the table. His face smacked against the hard wood and
a resounding crack echoed across the clearing. I jumped quickly off
the table to my feet as Tyler slumped on the ground, clutching his
cheek and moaning.

When he looked
up, all power had vanished from his face and he seemed to be
holding back tears. "Maggie, my darling . . ."

He removed his
hand and the bag of cotton fell from my fingers. Running from the
bridge of his nose to the end of his cheek bone was a long crack,
as if someone had dropped a vase on the floor. The crack started to
spread along his face and down his neck until a piece fell off.

A piece. Of his
face. Fell off.
Oh my holy hell.

The piece
clattered to the ground, merely a chunk of polished porcelain. I
squealed and scurried even further backwards.

"Maggie, you've
broken me," Tyler said, his glass eyes glistening. The cracks
branched off along his body until his arms and legs were
spider-webbed with thin lines. His face continued to break away as
Tyler gazed up at me and wept.

I couldn't look
away. I was stuck on Tyler as he fell apart, piece by piece. Soon
he was just a pile of broken porcelain on the ground, like one of
my broken pillowcase dolls. There was utter silence. Not even the
wind moved.

Suddenly, a
screech resounded into the night, breaking the spell. Cirrus and I
whirled around to see the citizens of Lucky Creek screaming as the
seams of their worn clothes fell apart. The town square was filled
with shrieks and howls as their dresses and shirts and then their
patched skin fell to the ground in pieces. Wisps of cotton rose in
the air like snow and danced around the agonized people, some still
trying in vain to hold their stiches together.

I couldn't take
it anymore. The sadness and anger in the air was so thick I could
hardly breathe. As Tyler's magic dissipated into the sky, I ran. I
ran past Cirrus and through the clearing. I tried to run past the
coal man, but he grabbed my arms to yank me back.

He looked into
my eyes and smiled.

"Thank the
Painter I lived long enough to see you," he whispered. He shoved a
backpack into my hands. "Be strong. The Riders are coming."

"What? What do
you mean?" I shouted over the screams. He considered for a short
moment and started to open his mouth when he suddenly gasped. And
grunted. Confusion washed over his face and he swallowed, but when
he opened his mouth again I saw red.

Soft clumps of
cotton floated lazily through the air as a current of blood ran
slowly out one side of his mouth. Cirrus stepped out from behind
the coal man and pushed the body to the ground, clutching the gory
scalpel in his hands. He made a grab for my arm.

I snapped out
of my temporary haze and pushed off the lawn into a run. Cirrus
screamed my name; I could hear it added to cacophony of noise
behind me. I bounded past the crumbling townspeople, clutching the
coal man's backpack, necklace bouncing against my chest, and
climbed the hill towards Tyler's house. Some poor innocent's cotton
trailed after me, caught in my hair and the lace of my gingham
dress.

Cirrus ran as
fast as he could, clutching at the scalpel until his knuckles
turned white, but he soon lost all sight in the storm of cotton.
His knees buckles and he caught himself with a whoosh. I was lost,
replaced with only swirling white and sudden silence. All the
townspeople had been reduced to rags. He was alone.

I dashed around
the side of Tyler's house and through the garden, past the back
gate and up into the fields that stood behind them, past piles of
fallen farmers. I kept running even after the sturdy dirt ground
melted into something softer.

Putting one
last push through my aching legs, I hardly had enough sense to
register that the grass and the trees were melting together and
becoming blurry. The soft touch of cotton turned to grit and I was
soon shielding my face from the harsh onslaught of . . . sand?

The howls of
the townspeople had morphed into the wind, screaming and swirling
around me as my feet sunk into powdery sand. I tried to look
forward and move forward, but the wind was pushing so hard against
my body that it felt like pushing against a mountain.

I collapsed on
the ground and started to crawl, dragging the backpack after me.
How the hell did I find my way here? I could barely lift my head
against the gale.

By some miracle
of luck, or perhaps it was fate, my hands found a piece of wood
stuck firmly in the ground. It was rough and splintered, but
wrapping my entire body around it was the only way I could
guarantee not blowing away. And so I did. The pack shielded my back
and the wooden post my eyes from the thousands of oncoming pin
pricks of grit rushing and swirling around me. For what felt like
hours I sat clinging to my lifeline until the rushes of sand died
down and I could open my eyes without being blinded.

I must have
opened them for a split second before my body gave up on me. The
world was yellow and later I remembered the sand swirling into
shapes I could recognize: the face of my uncle; a howling wolf; and
a reaching hand. I don't remember much else of that moment except
curling up beneath my wooden pillar and letting sleep sweep away
the terror.

Chapter
11

In New York City, the sun had finally risen and
people were already at work. The trash man had come and gone. A
woman pulled up outside an apartment building, taking out the keys
and turning to the man who sat beside her. She tickled his neck
with her nails and leaned in for a kiss. The man chuckled and gave
in, his mustache smudged with lipstick. The woman laughed and
leaned on the horn with her elbow. She shot a look up at an
upstairs window where she expected to see her daughter's head poke
out to check her ride home.

***

Dreams stalked through
the gardens of Cirrus's manor while the man stalked the hallways.
His feet traveled a worn path through the dark and empty rooms.
Leaves crackled outside the window and Cirrus could hear the chirp
of birds settling down to sleep.