A Fork of Paths

Then my younger sister asked me when the wedding was and… I blanked. Strangely, Ben and I had never discussed a wedding. And he looked… so uncomfortable when I glanced at him. Then he vanished completely, leaving me standing alone, my left hand still raised in midair to show my ring, but with no fiancé to introduce beside me.

Everyone else around the table looked confused, no doubt wondering why he had vanished or where he had gone. Perhaps they were even worrying on my behalf and pitying me. I found myself digging my ring finger back into the folds of my dress and pulling up a chair to sit back down. I cleared my throat and tried to steer the conversation to another subject. Tried to forget that Ben had ever appeared in the first place.

Then, toward the end of the meal, the ring itself vanished from my finger. And even the memory of his arrival began to fade, and it began to feel as though Ben’s appearance had been nothing but a dream within a dream.

But why do I keep dreaming of Ben?

And where is he now?

It killed me that I didn’t even know if he was still alive. I hadn’t yet managed to find out from Derek and Sofia how their journey to the realm of the jinn had gone. Were the jinn still protecting him? Is he still fleeing from the Elder?

My anxiety over Ben was soon interrupted, however, as it felt like the submarine shuddered to a complete stop. Loud footsteps sounded all around me—above me, in the corridor outside, and also below me. It sounded like they were all heading in one direction. Then the lock of my door clicked open, and in stepped a hunter.

Not the tall, wiry man who’d come to see me before. This time, it was a woman—although she looked stronger and bulkier than most men I’d ever laid eyes on and she was incredibly tall. I would estimate six feet in height. If it hadn’t been for the curve of her breasts and hips, she might’ve even been mistaken for a man. Her face was certainly gruff enough, and she had short hair that spiked upward in bristles. She wore a black top and pants just like the rest of the hunters, and she was carrying a gun in her hand, similar to the small silver one the man had entered with earlier.

She took my arm none too gently and pulled me off the bed. My feet being bound, I almost tripped as they hit the floor.

“I’m going to free your legs, all right?” she said, furrowing her bushy brows. “Though I warn you not to try anything.”

She pressed the end of her gun against my stomach as she knelt down on the floor. Withdrawing a small key from her pocket with her other hand, she freed my feet. Only once the cuffs were released did I realize just how sore my ankles had become. The metal was rough and they hadn’t left enough room between the restraints and my flesh. Red raw marks now marred my ankles, but I was grateful that at least I could walk normally again.

The hunter resumed her hold on my arm and led me out of the room. When we emerged in the corridor, I saw I’d been right in my observation that everybody was heading in the same direction. She led me past cabin after cabin until we reached a staircase. We hurried up it and emerged on the uppermost level of the submarine. A hatch was open in the roof, and a blinding light spilled down from it. Sunshine. Yet I didn’t feel even the slightest bit of warmth. An icy draught leaked through the hatch, causing a painful chill to sweep through me.

Hunters were lining up to climb out of the exit, and my female escort was already putting us in the line. As we reached the stairs, she motioned for me to begin climbing up first. I felt the barrel of her gun against my back as I mounted the stairs. Poking my head out of the hatch, I was momentarily blinded by the brightness.

Surrounding the submarine was a rough sea, or was it an ocean? The vessel floated by an icy jetty, beyond which was a world of sprawling, virgin-white mountains. It was snowing now, even as I cast my eyes around, chilly flakes settling on my nose and cheeks. My body began to shiver more strongly.

“What are you waiting for?” the female hunter beneath me called. “You’re holding everyone up.”

I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. My fingers numb, I gripped the ice-cold metal railing and pulled myself onto the roof. The chill of the metal beneath the soles of my bare feet came like an electric shock.

I couldn’t handle this. I was going to die of hypothermia. What are these hunters thinking? The female hunter emerged quickly after me, wearing a puffer jacket. She resumed her hold on my arm and pulled me down to the ground.

I yelped as my feet sank into what felt like four inches of snow.

“I can’t do this,” I breathed. “I’m going to die of cold.” My wrists being bound together, I couldn’t even wrap my arms around myself.

The hunter paused, then frowned. “Curious,” she murmured. As her eyes trailed the crowd of hunters now trudging away from the submarine, I hoped that she was going to ask if anybody had some spare boots and a coat. Instead, she called out to a man at the front of the group. “Mark. Come take a look at this.”

Mark, as he turned around to face us, was the same tall, lithe man who had drawn blood from me. Now his black uniform was cloaked in a long gray coat, his hands covered by black leather gloves. He wore a light gray scarf wrapped around his neck and a moleskin hat. He left the hunter he had been in the middle of a conversation with and filtered through the crowd toward us.

“She’s cold,” the female hunter said, still eyeing me with surprise.

You got that right. Now just hand me a coat.

“I am a half-blood,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting to maintain a semblance of patience. “That means that I feel the cold more than a human. I need boots and a coat. Now.”