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   Chapter 29 She Grew Intangible In His Arms

The Silverskin By Rian Torr Characters: 6648

Updated: 2018-03-07 15:18


One night, a soft knock came at the door―and young Seven heard Marietta speaking in the hallway. She opened up.

In the doorway stood a black-haired, pig-tailed girl in patched overalls—with two lower lip studs either side of her mouth—and a curious glint in her eyes.

"Seven, this is Shea Cavil―our new neighbour behind the Alterman's ..." Marietta said, stepping into the room. "Will you come say hello now, please?"

He crossed to take her hand. "Shea?" he said. "Where are you from?"

She smiled at him rather demurely.

"From the other side of the world."

"Have you been here for very long?"

"Just since yesterday. It's so crazy."

"Do you like it yet? First reactions?"

"The owls keep me up. Not sure."

"Shea wants someone to show her around the Forest, Seven. I said that you made the perfect guide. You always do."

Seven shook his head, sensing a set-up. He was not into being corralled into hanging out with strangers on whim.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Shea said. "I should get going anyway ... Mom's making dinner for me about now anyway."

So then Seven retired to his room—where he thought about both Shea and Faye until dawn. His head was spinning.

Then the next night, Shea came tapping at his bedroom window—urging him to come out and show her around—flashing a set of fiery old rebellious eyes.

She almost seemed aglow in a light.

"It's almost midnight, Shea ... Have you even been out past the Witching Hour in French's Forest? It's really not safe."

"No … I thought it was a good time to start. Marietta told me you know it."

So he found himself forced to teach her all about the dangers of the wood—at least long enough to show her how to explore—or defend herself in an emergency. Otherwise she was a goner.

He remembered one time, they got caught crossing into twilight while bridging the Payne on an old stone dam―when Shea slipped, planting a foot underwater—and it burst into blue flames, burning the shoe awa

ashing Draca from the frenzied eddies of Her mercurial twister. All was on.

Draca struck at Solana, coiling around her torso—burning from her hot bands of light, but not letting go of her.

They collapsed together into the rapids—as Draca squeezed the spirit from Solana's frantic frame. His grip was steel.

Now again Faye hovered down over Seven. Now again did she mesmerize him with her evil stare. Now again he faltered.

She landed beside him in an arc of blue fire—snapping out, clutching him by the throat—and then lifted him aloft, choking the breath from him. Her strobing green eyes sent him into a supernatural submission. He was no match for Her.

His eyes rolled back into his head as She moved in to kiss him. She sucked his soul out through his mouth—sealing their lips with a firm grip on his throat—as She quivered in glee for Her kill now at hand.

Meanwhile, under the Payne, the last light left Solana's eyes, as Draca sunk his fangs in deep. This was the last stand of two sisters—long entwined through history as eternally bonded by birth, forever at odds by heart—now destined to be written into the good books as tragically meant for bad ends. In the end, Faye would think nothing of ending her sister Solana's life, just as long as Seven was Her next victim, Her next easy prize.

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