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A loud exhale falters from my lips as the footsteps grow closer.
Blaise rests his forehead against mine and places two fingers to my lips. "Sh ..." he whispers.
I loop my arms around him and quietly breathe through my nose. In and out. In and out. Just calm down.
"Over here!" a deep voice rumbles as a shadow casts across us. "She's not alone, either." A middle-aged man with jet black hair appears above us.
He leans down to snatch ahold of the collar of Blaise's leather jacket then yanks him off me and shoves him to the side. Two younger men step up and grab Blaise's arms, holding him back.
Irritation flickers across Blaise's expression, but he doesn't fight back, his eyes burning into mine.
"Just stay calm," he mouths. "I'll get us out of this."
"I don't know why you try to run." The older man steps in front of Blaise, blocking him from my view. He crosses his arms and stares down at me with pure hatred in his eyes. "You only make it harder on yourself. You always do."
Tears prickle at my eyes, but I suck them back, refusing to show weakness.
He hitches his thumb around his leather gun strap and slings his gun over his shoulder. "If you would just stop running, this could all be over. But you run every time. You've spent an entire lifetime running and going back and forth to places you don't belong. Aren't you getting tired of it? Don't you just want to sit still for one second?"
When I don't answer, he wraps his fingers around my wrists and tugs me to my feet.
"It's always a battle with you, but I guess it's not your fault. You do have Grim blood in you."
I feel like I've been punched in the throat, my windpipe tightening and restricting my airflow. I look away at the forest, unable to bear the hatred and disgust I know are in Blaise's eyes.
"And now you've dragged this poor guy into your mess, just like you did my son," the man says as he drags me toward a large group of armed men.
Most of them are wearing trousers tucked into leather boots and wool coats. Some are holding guns, while others are grasping the reins of their horses. Everything from the grassy field, to the fog, to their outfits, to the open space feels outdated.
I glance down at myself, wondering if I'm wearing the long, black dress again, but strangely, I'm not.
"I tried to warn him what you are, but he's too damn stubborn, just like his mother." The man constricts his grip on my wrist, casting an annoyed glance over at the river where a guy is sitting on his horse.
The guy I thought I loved once ...
Pierce.
But the happiness and love that filled his eyes after he carved our names into the tree is no longer there. Instead, his face is twisted in agony, and when our gazes weld, that agony turns to loathing.
Tugging on the reins, he kicks the horse with the heels of his boots and gallops off toward a Victorian two-story house about a mile down the field. I watch him slip farther and farther away from me, the hole in my heart expanding.
"He knows what you are now," the man says, his fingernails delving into my flesh. "You were never supposed to exist, Allura. Human and Grim breeding was never supposed to happen." Anger flares in his eyes. "You, the rest of them--all the Grim--you taint the world. You go around, taking whatever you want and destroying everything in your paths. What you can do..." He shakes his head, his lips curling. "Something like you shouldn't exist. You're an abomination."
"I don't mean to destroy anything." I lower my head as a few hot tears escape my eyes. My legs tremble, threatening to give out on me.
"I honestly believe that." His harsh tone softens a smidgen. "But that doesn't change anything. As long as you exist, the world is going to perish. And if the Grim get ahold of you, our fate will be worse than it is already. We've spent years trying to destroy your kind, and I think I've finally figured out how. Your blood continuously heals you, but take that away, and you can't heal anymore. Bleed you dry, and you die."
He grips me so tightly I'd probably bruise if I were human. But I won't. The blood in my veins is already working to heal me.
I choke back a sob. "I'm sorry I'm this way. If I could change it, I would."
"Well, you can't. Wait. What's happening?" Alarm floods the man's voice. "Wait! No ... Goddammit, not again ..." His fingers leave my wrists, and I crumble to the ground.
Tears stream from my eyes as I rock back and forth. I can feel the blood pumping in my veins, working to heal where the man gripped me. I want it to stop. I want to bruise. I don't want to be like the Grim.
I don't want to be a monster.
Chapter Eleven
Empathy
The next thing I become aware of is that I'm lying on a soft surface and dust fills my lungs. I don't open my eyes, though, even when Blaise utters my name. I can't bring myself to look him in the eye.
Mable warned me that, if anyone found out what I was, it could end badly for me. Clearly, she was right since those men seemed determined to kill me because of what I am. I just wish I knew who they were, how they found out about me, and how I became such an appalling creature. Was I always like this? Or was I created? It's hard to know for sure when I hardly remember anything about my life. And the bits and pieces I do remember don't make sense half the time.
But what I really wish for the most is that Blaise didn't know about the monster that lives inside my blood, a monster he has declared his revulsion for more than once.
"Allura, open your eyes please." He huffs an exasperated breath. "I can tell the dreamland's worn off because you're breathing normally again, so please stop pretending."
Guilt festers inside me as I open my eyes and sit up.
He's leaning closer than I expected, and I end up bumping my head against his chin. He curses, leaning away from me, while I scramble backward until my back slams against a muddy wall.
"I-I'm sorry." I press the heel of my hand to my throbbing forehead and force my gaze off the ground to see if he's okay.
He stares at me, rubbing his chin, an unreadable expression on his face.
Shame weighs against my shoulders. Ryder told me the Grim killed Blaise's entire family. How can he stand to be in this confined hole with me? He probably can't.
The silence between us seems to go on for hours.
Unable to endure looking him in the eye any longer, I stare at the curved, dirt walls around me and then at the metal grate above where the bleeding sky is visible. I saw a ton of grates in the ground on my way into camp. My heavy heart sinks even more. I'm underground ... again.
"How long have you been experiencing memories like that?" His firm voice shatters the silence. "Was that the first time it's been that vivid, or has it happened more than once?"
I keep my gaze glued to the sky, even when my eyes start to water. "I don't know. I mean, I've had some vivid dreams before and spaced out into some memories while I was awake, but what just happened ... that felt different. More real, like I was actually reliving it, only the events happened slightly differently. I think it's because you were there."
"It felt real to me, too. I don't even know how I lost control. Maybe it was because I was in there with you." His voice rises, his anger returning, and he quickly clears his throat several times. "I just wish I knew what was going on. I thought I'd learned almost everything I could do, but apparently not."
I sneak a glance in his direction. "How long have you been able to do that? I mean, control people's thoughts."
"Since before I came to the station," he bites out. "I've been able to do a lot of weird things since I was about twelve, but I didn't really learn about my abilities un
til Reece came along and studied me." He rolls his tongue in his mouth, like he's fighting back something bitter. "When he hooked me up to Oblivion, he discovered I have abnormal brain waves and that I could control people's thoughts. It takes a lot of concentration on my part, and the person usually has to be unconscious or doped up. Reece told me I might eventually be able to do it without even touching someone, but I haven't been able to do it yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't seem to get my own mind to relax. Reece gave me more of an explanation than that, but he used a lot of big, scientific words, and honestly, I got bored and kind of tuned him out." He rests his arms on his bent knees, his gaze boring into me. But when he speaks, his calm tone doesn't match the intensity flowing off him. "I'm glad you're looking at me again. I was worried you weren't ever going to."
I stare down at my boots, feeling ashamed of what I am.
"I don't know why you'd be glad. You heard what they said ... about me."
"Yeah, I heard what he said, but it doesn't mean I believe it," he all but growls. "That's not the first time I've heard someone ramble about hybrids. Saying shit like that only stirs up riots. It's happened too many fucking times and caused too many innocent people to die."
I draw my legs to my chest and rest my head against my knees. "But it could be true," I whisper. "I mean, we know something's wrong with me. Maybe my blood really is different, and that's why I heal so fast ... because I'm a monster."
"Stop that." His sharp tone causes me to jump. "Don't ever say that again. Different or not, you're not a monster."
His defending me only makes me feel worse. He has risked his life for me so many times, and he doesn't even realize what he's trying to save. I'm not just a Nameless. I have evil blood inside me, pumping my heart, keeping me alive.
Guilt strangles me by the throat, and before I can stop myself, I sputter, "That's not the only reason I think I might have Grim blood in me. Mable ... she said ... my blood is ... different."
When he doesn't say anything, I peer up between my arms.
He looks completely unbothered. I don't understand his reaction. Did he not hear me?
"I already knew that." He steadily holds my gaze. "I overheard Mable tell you."
My pulse quickens. "You overheard her? How? We were in a room with steel walls."
