Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TATE

Outside, night had fully settled in. I took several breaths to steady myself and then peeled off from the crowd before emptying my stomach. Honey brown hair, green eyes, grey skin with a certain wrongness to it—the lifeless body, a husk. The image wouldn’t leave me even as my stomach contents did.

I needed the sea. I needed to remember her as alive, not picture what she may have looked like in death. I veered off from the main avenue leading from the city to the settlement and took a path further into the trees. Their branches began to canopy the trail and led the way to the cliffs—my favorite part about the pathway, it overlooked the sea. Mom had always loved this route and took me down it many nights, usually after a bad dream or hard day at school.

I trailed along the coastline deeper into the forest. The trees got thicker the further I went, and fog had begun to settle in over the foaming waves below. I had just two hours until curfew. Another lovely rule President Dale had started enforcing within the last ten years. Apparently, we were less likely to give into blood-rage if we were safely inside before night truly fell—or some political rhetoric like that. Bullshit if you asked me, but no one ever did.

The cliffs curved and carved out their path against the roaring ocean below; you could see the torch lights in the far distance, the southern tower of HQ, the heart of the Glenn. Home of the guara. It was at odds with the freedom the sea offered. One was a cage, the other an open expanse. It was the latter that called me.

The forest seemed oddly comforting and the crashing waves were like a lullaby. My mother had told me that nature could be rejuvenating and help us center ourselves. Since she passed, I had often disappeared down this path, seeking the warmth of its embrace.

I closed my eyes, and I could still see her as I did the last time. She was strong, one of the best warriors in the guara. She was a dux and the best spy our Glenn had ever seen. She was free, fun, ruthless, and yet, tender. She told me to seek autonomy as much as justice, and taught me the importance of love. I was still searching for the freedom she embodied. It teased me, hovering closely, but just out of reach. A secret I didn’t know how to unveil. Like so many things in my life, I was always focusing on the wrong thing, only seeing the trees and not the forest.

My temperature began to spike, the tingling in my limbs increased even as my left leg started throbbing with every step. My stomach ached and demanded food, itched for the psychological high as much as the physical. These cravings were getting out of hand.I needed to feel air, to get in touch with my truth.

I continued to hike for another thirty minutes until the southern tower’s lights were merely a dim haze in the distance. The Human District was about another twenty minutes south. That’s where most teens went for a night of debauchery. Human vessels, wine, sex—it was party city. I never felt comfortable there; the way they served humans by humans at those restaurants felt too grotesque. I suppose I wasn’t one to see how my drink was prepared.

I never understood why the humans who resided there chose to remain. The Glenn offered many shelters and places where they could live and donate blood with more decency. But who was I to judge?

A snort escaped my lips.

At least they now had a better mortality rate thanks to the blood bags from veil side, bags that I carted through the veil practically daily. That and President Dale’s no-kill law offered the humans inside the veil life, opportunity, and limited protection. How odd that he should value human lives? It was the antithesis of who he was as a leader—he was no saint and seemed to revel in taking lives, just as he did when he stole Lucas’s soul today.

A shudder coursed through me.

At last, I reached the outcropping that jutted out over the sea. The only sound was my breath and the waves below. No one behind or in front. This spot had always been my haven. I climbed down the hill until I located the rope I had secured over the cliff’s edge. Slowly, I lowered myself forty feet down the side, using the rope to steady myself until I found the natural footings along the edge of the cliff. Releasing the rope to descend the final ten feet always gives me an adrenaline rush. I landed in a crouch and then removed my boots and set them securely next to the rough stone wall.

The edge was small and cut out from the side of the cliff; it gave me just enough room to lie down in either direction. Small, but secure. It was tucked in enough to provide a wall against the wind. This was my place. The one spot no one ever found me or thought to look. The one place I could fully be myself. And it was here that I allowed myself to breathe. Here, I could release the inner tension from holding it together. Here, I could stop hiding that piece of myself.

I looked toward that intrinsic thread. It wasn’t always easy to find and often was camouflaged from disuse, but it was there waiting for me—the piece of myself I rarely acknowledged. Begging me to free it.

I internally pulled once, almost a gentle caress. ‘ Hello friend ’ it seemed to say. I tugged again, but the thread remained coiled. I gave it a bigger yank, but it still refused to release.

Damn, stubborn self.

I sighed. Fletch always said I only did what I wanted, I guess that applied to all sides of me. So be it.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to my last resort: I threw myself over the cliff edge.

The free fall always drew a scream from me—a certain desperation. I used this energy to pull on the cord with more stamina than before. It budged; I began to feel the tell-tale tingle but not the burn that accompanied the shift. The waves were becoming dangerously close…

I could start to make out individual swells. This had to work, or this would be it—not the worst way to go, but too soon for my taste. I tugged on the thread one more time, pulling it with all my defiance, and finally, it released and fully uncoiled. My body began to tingle, then burn as fire filled my veins. I rearranged before my internal temperature rapidly cooled. With a final snap, I opened my eyes—the eyes of a raven.