Page 66 of Oleander
Here goes nothing.
“Okay, well, we aren’t going to win if we don’t even encounter anything at all,” I complain, kicking at the dry, crunchy leaves beneath me. We’ve been walking forhours, and not so much as a cricket has greeted us.
“It’s weird that youwantto get attacked by evil creatures,” Ander deadpans.
I shrug. “I mean, we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing. We want to win.Don’t we?” I stare into Oleander’s lavender eyes, the reflection of his torch glowing brightly. We both have things to prove—to ourselves and to others. And Ineedthat money. I have nothing and no one to rely on if this scholarship falls through.
Ander gives me a solemn nod, looking handsome and regal with that long sword strapped to his lithe frame. I glance away before I get a hard-on in the middle of the Wild Hunt and get myself killed.
“Then we need to hope wedoget attacked.” We reach a small clearing in the woods with an old stone wall that’s seen better centuries. It appears to have once lined a garden of some sort, but now it’s overgrown and abandoned. A creepy old water fountain is in the center with wild weeds growing out of it. Crumbling gargoyles dot the space as if they’re guarding something.
Ander swallows thickly, “Sky.I don’t like this place. The trees are warning me?—”
A whoosh of air rushes past my head, followed by a high-pitched screech that has us ducking and covering our ears. I catch a glimpse of something white and semi-translucent, reflecting in the beams of moonlight filtering into the forest.
My heart drops at the thought of facing a spirit of the dead, but I don’t even have time to worry because the next thing I know, Ander grunts, falling forward to the ground. His torch clatters away and goes out, casting us in further darkness.
I unsheath my sword instantly, spinning in slow circles and looking for the threat, but I see nothing.
Where the fuck did it go?
“Ander? You okay?” I can’t take my eyes off our surroundings; it could mean death. I hear him stand, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. “What happened? Did you trip? And what the fuck was that noise? I saw something fly right by you.” When I make another slow circle and finally face Ander, my heart drops to my feet. “No,” I gasp in absolute horror.
Ander’s eyes are completely clouded over, appearing almost solid white. I instantly gather a ball of electricity in my palm, knowing exactly what I need to do. But before I even get the chance, Ander lunges for me, tackling me to the hard forest ground like a linebacker.
Oof.
He lands on top of me, grinning widely like an absolute savage, and I can’t lie. . .
I’m shook.
Ander—no, it’s not Ander. He’s possessed by this evil spirit, this ghoul. My Ander is nowhere to be found, instilling a primal panic deep inside.
I have to get this thing out of him.
My mind races a million miles a minute, but fear makes it hard to think clearly. The ghoul uses my distraction to its advantage, shocking me with a vicious punch that leaves me dazed.
My eyebrow splits on impact. Warm blood pours into my eye and cascades down my cheek in crimson rivulets.
“Fuck!” I shout in pain, mad that he got the jump on me.
I take a deep breath before rolling to my stomach and pushing up. Ander wraps his arms around me, attempting to hold me down. I stand with all my strength, but he clings to my back like the evil parasite possessing him.
As much as I hate to use a dirty move, I’m left with no other choice. I sling my head back and slam the back of my skull into Ander’s nose. He grunts, falling to the ground with a thump, clutching at the blood gushing from his nose.
We’re bloody messes stumbling around semi-disorientated, but I shove him to the ground so that he’s pinned with a knee to the back. The ghoul fights for its chance at life, flinging Ander’s limbs around unnaturally. I cringe, hoping nothing is too badly bruised or, even worse, broken. I try to subdue his violent thrashing as best I can while gathering another ball of electricity, ensuring it’s not strong enough to stop his heart.
“Get the fuck out of him!” I yell so loudly that my voice cracks and my eyes blur with tears that threaten to fall. In one fluid move, I flip Ander and slam my palm straight over his heaving chest. His back arches unnaturally, and the same loud screeching noise assaults my eardrums as the spirit of the dead whooshes out of his open mouth, disappearing into the ether before I can even reach for my blade.
“Ander!” I shout in a trauma-inducing panic. His limp body collapses back to the ground as if he’s an empty shell. His eyes are wide and unseeing, still solid white. “Ander,” I repeat in a desperate whisper, leaning over him to press my ear to hischest and barely hearing a heartbeat.I’m two seconds away from freaking the fuck out. I can’t lose him. “Wake up.” I shake him a little. “Wake up!Please. . .” I hiccup the last word, the emotions too overwhelming. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this.We had a plan,” I whimper. “You win the glory, and I win the prize. We’re doing this thing. Dammit. Youneedto wake up—” My voice cracks on the last word, and tears swim in my vision. “Wake up!” I press my palm to his heart, giving him another small jolt. I can’t think of anything else to do.
Like the miracle that he is, the white in Ander’s eyes fades away, revealing the beautiful lavender beneath. Relief is a physical, palpable thing, almost knocking me over with the sheer magnitude of the situation. He gasps for breath, his face pale, washed out, and confused. I pull him to me for a quick hug, helping us both stand. We need to get out of here.
With my sword in front of us, we slowly move out of the clearing, shuffling like the injured prey that we are. I feel like a sitting duck, and we need to findsomesort of cover. I leave the torch behind, deciding it’s safer to move in darkness. I don’t trust that thing not to come back looking for revenge.
As soon as we’re in the relative safety of the trees, I pause for a moment, and Ander finally speaks. “W-what happened, Sky?” His voice is weak and raspy. He’s trembling and vulnerable right now.
It absolutely guts me.I couldn’t protect him. Blood stains the lower half of his face, but at least his nose has stopped bleeding, unlike the slow trickle still flowing from my eyebrow.
