Becoming Calder(117)

She shook her head violently back and forth. "No! I won't leave you! Not even with my eyes. I won't leave you alone. I'm with you. I'm here!"

The second match lit and my dad cried out as he dropped it on the pile of kindling next to my feet. A small fire caught. I looked back to Eden.

"Please, Morning Glory. Please, I can't bear it if I know you're left with this vision. I'll inhale the smoke. I won't feel the flames. But I have to know you've looked away. Please."

The fire grew, leaping to another pile of sticks. I felt the heat of it on my lower body.

Eden looked up at the sky again, her chest rising and falling in heavy sobs. She looked back at me and screamed again, struggled to get loose. The men held onto her more tightly, each one holding one arm, turned away from her just enough that she couldn't kick at anything vital. It wouldn't matter anyway. She didn't have the key to the handcuffs that kept me bound.

Eden looked back at me and nodded, horror and heartbreaking despair evident in every part of her: her expression, her posture, her sobs. And I could do nothing.

"I don't know what's going to happen after this, Eden, but whatever it is, be brave, Morning Glory. And know there's a spring somewhere in Elysium. And I'll be waiting for you, Eden. I'll be lying on a rock right by the water. Picture me there, under the sunshine. And when it's time, come find me. I'll be waiting. I hope I'll be waiting a long time, Eden, but know I'll be there. I'll be waiting, Morning Glory."

Eden threw her head back. It looked as though she had no voice left to scream with. Her face—her beautiful face. Seeing her desperate agony ripped me apart. I felt helpless as I watched her torment and suffering. All. My. Fault. As the flames jumped, she sobbed silently and turned her head away. The smoke started to rise and I prepared to inhale huge gulps of it. Fear and horror and rage, and yes, love—every single part of who I was in that moment—swirled like a hurricane inside of me, moving faster, gaining speed, gaining some kind of power.

And as I tilted my head toward the heavens . . . it began to rain.

Not a light rain that started slowly, but a sudden, drenching rain that immediately came down in sheets. The fire went out.

Hector stepped forward and made a disgusted sound of anger. He grabbed the box of matches from my father, who had turned away, his shoulders shaking in sobs. Hector attempted to light another match. But after several tries, he threw the box down and screamed, "GET IN THE CELLAR! EVERYONE! THE GREAT FLOOD IS UPON US! GET IN THE CELLAR AND BRING MY BLESSED ONE."

Hector turned to Clive, who had been standing behind him. "Unlock him and throw him back in the cell."

"Aw, Jesus Christ," Clive yelled. "This is it. This is the last thing I do here."

Eden was being dragged into the cellar. My heart pounded in my chest as Clive unlocked my handcuffs and pushed me roughly away from the pole. I stumbled, my right leg buckling from under me. I fell down on my knees in the kindling that had been spread around me and saw the hole in my thigh, blood trickling out slowly. I was shot? "Get up," Clive said coldly.

"I can't," I said, my arm hanging lank by my side.

"Somebody drag him to the cellar," Clive called. "I'm out of here." Then he turned and walked into the driving rain, disappearing after about three steps.

"Eden," I said weakly, crawling through the mud to her as best as I could with only one leg and one arm cooperating.

I felt myself being dragged, and screamed as red-hot agony went shooting through my broken arm, my legs following helplessly behind me.

I was dragged down the stairs, other people rushing behind me, and thrown back into the cell where I crumpled onto the floor. The world started fading and I fought to stay conscious. "Eden," I choked out weakly. "Eden." Then all went dark.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE




Eden



The rain beat down on the roof as I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the dim, already-crowded cellar. The fighting took all I had, but I had to get to Calder. He had looked half-dead when they dragged him away. I had to get to him. Hector held me firmly by my waist and his strength was too much for me to fight against. He had lost weight and looked gaunt and sickly, but his strength seemed to be that of a hundred men. Or perhaps it was just that I was utterly weakened, half-dead with terror and grief. They were going to burn him to death. Horror made me woozy and I sucked in a breath.

When Hector brought his hand up to maneuver me to the corner of the cellar, I leaned sideways and bit it. Hard. He roared, the metallic taste of his blood filling my mouth. I spat it in his face.

A look of rage passed over his expression before he pushed me harshly to two men to the side of us, worker men I didn't recognize.