Chapter Twenty Two
When the girls arrived at Kira’s house after school, Octavion waited near the front door. He motioned for Lydia to park, then ushered them both into the house and slammed the door behind him.
“Now what did I do?” Kira asked.
He walked over to her desk, picked up a small photo album and held it out in front of him. “That depends on what you plan to do with these.”
Kira had gone through some of Lydia’s best shots and arranged them in a little album to give her as a graduation present. “What are you doing snooping through my stuff? That was supposed to be a surprise for your sister. Give it to me!” She tried to grab the album out of his hand, but he was too fast and raised it above his head so she couldn’t reach it.
“Are there any more?” he asked.
“Yes, but why does it matter to you?” Kira tried to grab them again, but missed.
Kira, what pictures did you use?
They’re just of scenery, the ones you took months ago.
With the book still in his hand, he turned to face his sister. “I told you how dangerous this could be. You gave me your word.” His voice was calm, but a hint of anger hid behind his words, like the calm before a storm.
Lydia slowly lowered herself to sit on the couch, but said nothing.
“Lydia!” Octavion yelled. And then the storm hit. “I want all of them, now!” He threw the book against the wall, breaking open the metal rings and spilling pictures onto the floor.
“Stop it!” Kira cried. “What’s wrong with you?” She stepped to where the book landed and started picking up the scattered pages. Lydia jumped to her feet and tried to help by slipping some of the photos back into their plastic sleeves. She picked up a picture of wild flowers decorating a weathered gravestone and tears instantly filled her eyes.
Octavion let out a huff of air and went to her side to comfort her—a complete contrast to his earlier outburst. He took the photo in his hand and studied it for a moment. “Please tell me this is not what I fear it is.”
She looked into her brother’s eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It is.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“But . . . how?” he asked. His brow furrowed in confusion.
Lydia took one last look at the photo he still held in his hand, wiped the tears from her face and stood. “I’ll get my camera.” But instead of walking out the front door to her car, she threw the door open and took off on a dead run past the living room window in the opposite direction. Kira jumped to her feet to go after her, stopping when she felt Octavion’s hand clamp down on her wrist.
“Let her go.”
“No! She needs—”
“To be alone,” he said more sternly. “She needs time to herself.”
Kira jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Fine! Then explain to me what just happened.” She took the photo from his hand and studied it. “How could you hate something so beautiful?”
Octavion gathered the photos and stood. “Come and I will show you.” He took her hand and led her to the couch where they both sat. He selected three photos from the pile of loose pictures and laid them on the table where she could see them clearly. One was the gravestone and the other two were different angles of a crumbling stone structure. He opened the album to a photo of an old iron gate. “These are not of your world. They are of Xantara.”
“What?” Kira looked at him in disbelief. “But how is that possible? You said you haven’t been back and . . . oh, Lydia.” The hair on Kira’s arms pricked at her skin. No wonder he was so angry with her. Lydia had discovered a way to go back without him knowing.
“Now you understand?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Will you help me destroy them?”
Kira looked one last time at the photos, then slid them closer to Octavion with a quick swipe of her hand. “No, you’ll have to do it. I can’t bear to break her heart. She loves taking pictures. It’s who she is.”
“No, this is not who she is. She is a princess, the youngest daughter of the king of Xantara and she needs to be reminded of that.”
“Maybe she was in your world, but here . . . she’s . . . my friend.”
Octavion didn’t answer, just gathered all the photos and walked out the back door to burn them in the yard. When he returned, Kira surrendered the memory cards—that he crumbled in one hand—and deleted the pictures she’d saved on her computer.
Shortly after he left, it began to rain. It only added to her somber mood. Kira tried to keep busy by catching up on the homework she’d missed the week before, but she just couldn’t concentrate.
As evening drew near, someone knocked on her front door. Thinking it might be Lydia coming back to talk, she opened the door without even thinking about who might be on the other side. To her surprise, a young man stood on her porch, dripping wet.
“Sorry to bother you, but my car died and I need to use your phone to call for a tow.” He looked honest enough. He had long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore black jeans and a blue T-shirt. He had strong facial features, but his smile seemed nice. Kira guessed him to be nineteen or twenty.
She looked over his shoulder to find an old beat-up Camaro sitting on the side of the road. Most of it was blue, but the front fender and passenger door were red. The hood was propped up with a stick and steam spewed from the radiator.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have a phone.” Another thing her mother packed up and took with her.
A gust of cool moist air hit her and goose bumps rose on her arms. If it weren’t for the chilled air coming through the door, she’d have thought her sense of danger was warning her. She tried to laugh it off, but then she caught a glimpse of something strange in his brown eyes—an emptiness, like looking into a hollow abyss. She’d never seen eyes like that. She took a step back to put more space between them.
“Oh,” he said. He looked past her at the sparsely furnished room. “You have a nice home.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t help, but there’s another house a ways down the road that will probably have a phone.” She pointed, so he’d know which direction to go.
His eyes left her face just long enough to look at her extended hand—and wrist. “Nice bracelet.”
Kira’s chest tightened at his words and the hair on her arms pricked at her skin. She slowly lowered her hand and met his eyes again. This time she knew it wasn’t the cool air that made the hair on her arms stand up. “What did you say?”
A sinister grin spread across his face. “I said . . . nice bracelet.” His voice deepened and suddenly held the same accent Octavion’s did.
Before Kira registered what was happening he’d entered the room and closed the door behind him. She stumbled back against the arm of the couch, then stepped around it so she could increase the distance between them. “Who are you?”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her back against the wall with so much force, the mirror that hung there fell to the ground and shattered. He gathered her hands and held them above her head with one of his while pressing his right thumb to her windpipe. “Where is she?”
Lydia! I’m in trouble! “Where’s who?” Kira tried to catch her breath, praying Lydia wasn’t so angry about the pictures that she would block her thoughts.
“Do not play games with me, little girl. There is only one way you can have that thing on your wrist. Where is she?” The muscles in his face tensed. Veins bulged under his skin, and his glaring eyes were black. An evil, sick feeling crept into her stomach and twisted at her gut.
Kira, what’s wrong? Lydia’s voice seeped into her frantic thoughts.
A man. He can see the Crystor . . . “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I found it,” she lied.
He let out a ferocious cry, then lifted her off the ground and tossed her across the room. She landed on the flimsy coffee table, smashing it. A sharp pain struck her left side. “Stop!” Lydia! Help! He’s gonna ki
ll me.
Altaria’s voice filled her head. We’re coming. Hold on.
Kira couldn’t breathe. She tried to get up, but as she pulled her knees under her, the man shoved her down on to her stomach with the weight of his body and yanked her hair back.
“Tell me now, wench. Where is she?” He tightened his grip on her hair and pressed the cold blade of a knife to the base of her throat as the front door exploded off the hinges.
“Looking for me, old friend?” Octavion roared.
The man withdrew the knife and shoved her aside with a swift kick of his boot. What Kira had witnessed in the canyon was no comparison to the transformation she saw Octavion make now. In the time it took him to fly across the room and take the man to the ground, his entire body changed.
The muscles across his shoulders and back exploded into a bulging mass of lean tendons. The bridge of his nose widened as the pupils of his fiery yellow eyes widened, and his teeth—she couldn’t stop staring at his teeth. They weren’t as big as Toran’s, but they were still that of a wild cat, with razor sharp fangs that would easily rip the flesh from any animal or human. His form was still that of a man, but there was enough of him that wasn’t—a mutation of wild animal filled with rage.
Octavion picked the man up and threw him against the kitchen doorframe. He stumbled to his feet, flashed a wicked grin, and turned toward the kitchen with Octavion on his heels. Kira heard the shatter of glass as they blew through her back door and into the yard.
The stabbing pain in Kira’s side wouldn’t let her take in more than tiny, ragged puffs of air. It was all she could do to stay focused and not pass out.
“Kira!” Altaria ran through the doorway, jumping over the broken door that now lay on the living room floor. “What happened? Who did this?”
Kira couldn’t take in enough air to speak, so she pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Where were you? I was so scared.
“There was another one in front. I had to take care of him.”
“What?” Kira squeaked.
“He’s gone. You’re safe, for now. Can you sit?”
Kira shook her head. I think my ribs are broken. One may have punctured my lung. I can’t breathe, and it really hurts.
“We need to get out of here. Let me help you.” Altaria reached under Kira’s arm and tried to pull her up.
“Stop!” It hurts too much, Kira begged as the room blurred.
Octavion entered from the back of the house. His breathing seemed heavy, but he’d returned to his normal form. His human form. Kira didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
He motioned for Altaria to move aside and knelt beside Kira. He seemed gentle and calm and there was no sign of the beast he’d become only minutes before. He slipped one arm under Kira’s back and the other beneath her knees, lifting her into his arms.
Kira screamed, exhausting what little air she’d managed to pull into her lungs. She tried to draw in more. “It hurts,” she cried.
“I know,” Octavion said. “I will try to be gentle, but you must be brave. We need to go. There might be more of them.” He stepped through the front door into the yard. “Altaria. Hold on to my back.”
“Who was it?” Altaria asked.
“Bastian.”
“I should have guessed.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Go!”
“Kira, close your eyes,” he said, but as he tightened his grip on her body, the pain took away her breath and her world went black.