Transcend (19 page)

“It was an accident,” he finally said. “The hook fell on me, I guess.”

“That’s horrible,” she said. “But it could have been a lot worse.”

Ien nodded in reply. He had a feeling things were already a lot worse.  

“Why are you still here? Did you already talk with your mother? Was she surprised to see you?”

The questions confused him, disorienting his fractured mind.

Kiera.

The word settled on his thoughts, stitching together the fragments. “I still need to find Kiera.”

Jenna paled. Sighing, her eyes began to glisten. “She’s at Whitehall. Practicing.” She choked back a cry. “I told you this before. Don’t you remember?”

“Thank you, yes.” Truthfully, he remembered very little about anything the last few days. Only a few scattered pictures—a tree in a forest, wishing for his mother’s death, and Erik. Nothing he could string together into an actual memory.  

Jenna again touched Ien’s cheek, sending a strange current of longing through him. “Ien, you need to let her go.” Jenna’s voice was so sweet, so serene.

For a moment he was lost in Jenna, unsure of the conversation. “Let who go?” he asked, only wanting to hear Jenna speak again.

“Kiera,” she replied, the concern evident on her face. “We were talking about Kiera.”

“Oh yes. Kiera. I need to find her.” He stared off, lost in his thoughts.

Jenna pulled her hand away as concern bled into frustration. “Ien! What’s wrong with you? Have you heard nothing I’m saying?”

He stared, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You need to forget about her, Ien. Let her go and move on.”

No no no
.

The voices came in a rush, layering on top of each other. A chorus of his insanity.

Find Kiera. She can save you. Only her.

“Why? I love her. We’re promised—”

“Ien!” Jenna said, cutting off his words. Silence grew between them as she paused too long. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak. “She’s…she’s…betrothed.”

Fury sprang to life in Ien, pulling his mind into sharp focus. “What?” he said through gritted teeth, his hands forming fists at his sides. “Who?”

Jenna froze. A pang of guilt worked at him. With all of his moods she had grown accustomed to seeing, anger and rage, were never ones he shared with her. But things were different now, and he couldn’t help himself.

Ien stood inches from her, his fists pumping at his sides. “Who is it?” he asked in clipped agitation.

“I shouldn’t.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not my place.”

“Tell me who!” Ien’s voice shook the walls.

“You have to remember, they thought you were dead. They never would have—”

“Jenna!”

“It’s James. She’s going to marry James.”

Ien’s world imploded. Images swirled around his head, bleeding onto the walls of the barn. Kiera and her promises. James and his warnings. The funeral. The puzzle slammed into place. James had always asked about Kiera, always stared at her, always discouraged Ien’s interest.

Anguish twisted Ien’s hellish features, pulling at the forming scar tissue. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Everyone’s been talking about it. Your mother…” Jenna hesitated.

“What about Mother?”

“She said they were a good match. She’s throwing a party for them tomorrow night, to welcome her into the family. James is taking over the family business, Ien. He’s helping to merge the families together. He told your mother he would only do it if she threw an engagement party for him and Kiera.” Jenna’s hand reached tentatively for his shoulder.

Ien bristled at her touch.

“I’m so sorry.” Jenna again placed a hand on Ien.

He swallowed hard, flexing his shoulders. Nothing about him relaxed, no matter how hard he willed it to. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said through clenched teeth.

Truth.

The word stuck in Ien’s throat. Kiera was promised to him, not James, something he wasn’t about to let them forget.

“What will you do now?”

“Nothing.” Ien imagined seeing James, pictured the look on his face as Ien stepped out of the shadows. He envisioned the fear and terror that would pass through James’ eyes, and the way his body would slump after he took his last breath.  A smile formed on Ien’s lips. “Not one thing.”

25.

“I, the miserable and the abandoned,

am an abortion,to be spurned at,

and kicked, and trampled on.”

~Mary Shelley (Frankenstein)

~~

The images stay in my thoughts. I breathe them in, allowing their truth to fill me. There is only one way to remind Kiera of her promises, her fealty.

Remove temptation.

Jenna smiles wistfully. She reaches her hands out to me as the air between us grows tight. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. She thought I was dead. I don’t know why I expected her to wait.” The lie drips convincingly from my lips. I take Jenna’s hand in mine. “Thank you again. For everything.”

I bring her hand to my mouth, kissing it softly. The same current runs through me, mixing with the fury simmering below the surface.

“You’d better get back before someone misses you. I don’t want you to get into trouble on my account.”

 “You’re right.” She lowers her head and turns. “You aren’t going to do anything foolish, are you?”

“Of course not,” I answer, forcing a smile that I know must look grisly. Another lie.

She hesitates at the door, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I
can
trust you, right?”

“Jenna, I’m obviously in no condition to go anywhere. I’ll be here.” Willing the smile to reach my eyes, I hold her gaze. “I promise.”

She stares through me, ignoring the rage and madness. Ignoring the cursed mask my face has become. She sees the real me.

And maybe Kiera will as well.

“I’ll be back tonight with food and fresh linens.” Jenna releases a slow breath, still locked in my gaze.

I close the distance between us. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” She has always been loyal to me. My disfigurement, the monster that lurks beneath my face, it has not dissuaded her.  I lean in and kiss her check. The air crackles as my longing again stirs. I push the thoughts aside and watch her walk away without a word.  

In her absence, my thoughts flood with vengeance. For Mother. And now for James. He has stolen a piece of my soul, and he will pay.

With his life.

Yes, now is the time. Take your revenge.

The voices start as a whisper in my mind. I ignore them and leave the stables. I need to see Kiera.

I must make her
see
me.  

The walk feels long as the sun drops below the horizon. My legs shake from fatigue and lack of food. Doubt fills in the void left by the chorus of voices urging death. Only my heart pushes me forward.

“You are stronger than you realize, Ien Montgomery. You always have been.” Sister Anne appears before me, thin and wispy.

I move out of her path, unwilling to acknowledge her existence.

“Jenna was wrong about James. Wrong about everything. Kiera still belongs to you. You simply must show her that you’re alive.”

I stop mid-step. I want to ignore her, but her words stir a deep need.

“Go convince Kiera that you haven’t changed. Show her that your face does not define you.”

But it does.

I reach for the barely-there figure of Sister Anne, hoping there is substance beyond the vision. My hand passes through her as I knew it would and I shake my head in disappointment.

“Trust your heart, Ien.”

I edge past the apparition.

“She still loves you. Claim your right to her. Make her remember.”

Sister Anne’s words chill me to the bone. I touch my face, comfortable now with its horrid contours.

“Can you see past this, Kiera?” I whisper.

She promised herself to only you.

The choir of voices swells from deep within me, repeating the phrase over and over. I walk, unable to resist my urgings.

Take her for yourself. Make her remember her promise.

The memories of her touch, her kiss, reach through me, compelling me forward.

~~

The hedge that outlines Whitehall’s conservatory looks different now. Gone are the seedpods and sticks. The bush is in bloom, full of sticky sweet blossoms and pollen. I tighten my hold on my cloak and push my way through the bush, straining to see inside. The world is bathed in dusky hues. Long shadows shield my appearance as I stare through the window at my beloved.

Kiera stands next to the piano, stroking her bow with rosin in a mesmerizing rhythm. Back and forth. Back and forth. Nothing about her has changed. Not the length of her hair, nor the spark in her eyes.

And not her promises to you.

She puts her rosin away and grabs her violin, carefully fitting it between her chin and shoulder. She draws a perfect note. And another. I place my hands on the window, feeling the sounds through the glass. There is a longing held with the music that unleashes a familiar hunger.

The song continues in a pattern of familiar infections and cadences, drawing me closer.

“You haven’t forgotten,” I whisper.

Every note of our song is the same, every melody exactly as I remember. And yet, there is something missing. We are two halves of the same whole. My heart reaches for her, desperate to complete the duet. Complete myself.

I close my eyes, allowing the music to transform me. It fills every cell, every crevice with a desperate need—one that can only be filled by her. I am held prisoner by the notes as they linger, barely breathing.

“The song suits you.”

The deep tones of his unwelcome voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Thank you. It’s still my favorite piece, even with everything that has happened. I wish he could have heard it performed. He would’ve liked that, I think.” Her voice cracks and I am undone.

“I’m sure he would have.”

James.

He has no right to guess what I would’ve liked. No right to even be with Kiera now. My shoulders tighten and my stomach cramps, unable to handle the anguish building through me. I peer inside.  

“The song isn’t quite right yet.” A furtive grin covers her face. “It isn’t complete.” She walks to James and takes his hands in hers. “It’s meant to be a duet.”

“What are you doing?” Rage absorbs my words, my hands grip the window’s ledge.  

“Please James, play it with me.” Kiera tilts her head. I know the look held in her eyes.  

“Me?” James chuckles. “Hardly. I’m not trained. I could never do the song justice.”

I can’t think, move, breathe.

“I don’t care. Come on, just play it with me. Please.” Her lips curl into a slight pout.

The scene speeds into a frantic spin.

“Okay, but just for you.” James pulls her into a tight embrace.

Voices consume my thoughts, coaxing me to action. 

He has betrayed you.

They both have.

My world unravels, folding in on itself.
 

Force her to honor her promise.

Take her as yours.

Kill the boy.

The voices get louder and louder. I push away from the window, turn and run, unable to withstand the onslaught of noise and images. Sister Anne appears everywhere, taunting me, her voice weaving in and out of the ever-present chorus.

“Make them see the
real
you.”

Kiera, she is yours.

“You are not your face.”

She will only see your deformities. James will make certain of that.

“She loves you still.”

She will never love you.

The phrases slide in and out of my thoughts, mixing with the cacophony of noise. Everything spins with the sounds. Bile coats my senses as I try to find something tangible to grasp, some shred of reality to cling to.

It’s too late.

I run faster and faster, back through the woods and away from Kiera and James, away from the life I can never have, away from the words that never end. The trees loom around me, their trunks casting long shadows that consume me.

The faster I run, the louder the words, the taller the trees. It all presses in, suffocating me. I can hear nothing save the voices, see nothing but Kiera and James embracing. I collapse under the weight of my disillusionment, falling into the bed of needles that coats the forest floor.

I am nothing more than this curse, this deformity. Broken and overcome by madness. I am not worthy of Kiera now.

She has betrayed you.

I cannot force her to love what I’ve become.

She promised herself to you. Forever.

I will not.

A battle wages within as I am shredded by what I need and the truth of what I’ve become.

“Trust in her, Ien. Trust in your love.” Sister Anne’s voice rises up from the din, clear. Firm. “Tell her you are alive. Make her see what lies beneath the scars.”

“I can’t. I won’t.” My body trembles. “I’m nothing but a monster now.”

“Trust me, Ien. Go to her. Reveal yourself.”

The tempest grows.  

Take her. Force her
.

Sister Anne’s words, the choir of insanity, they fuse and merge, coiling around my heart. Without Kiera, I am nothing but this growing madness.

“Let her heal you.”

She belongs to only you.

The storm peaks and I am forced to admit a horrible truth. Kiera
will
love me again, one way or another.

She

must…

26.

“You must know that I am made of death, from head to foot,

and it is a corpse who loves and adores you