Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [72]
Safe to say he’s down for the count.
Chapter 76
Wisty
“WE SHOULD’VE CHECKED,” I mumble to my brother. “We should’ve made sure we finished the job.”
Whit and I are carrying the unconscious, wounded — but decidedly not dead — Byron Swain across the difficult terrain, and with every step I think I can hear Pearce trailing us.
“Drop it, Wist. I told you. He’s done. Let’s just focus on getting Byron to the river. We’re almost there anyway.”
“We are?”
My brother nods, hiking Byron up, and my mind whirs. The only thing in my line of vision is the steep hill we’re trudging up, shadows snaking together in the dry grass. Behind us, the dark presence of the bone forest looms. But what’s beyond the hill?
I quicken my pace, struggling against Byron’s weight to climb higher, faster. I’m light-headed. I didn’t believe we’d really get here, that I’d ever see my parents again. I know that Whit has already seen them, but I shut out the thought anyway. If I let myself believe in the possibility and it turns out to be a mirage, like every other time we’ve seen them, I think it will destroy me.
I bite my lip. No, Wisty. It’s not real. Not yet.
But I find I’m holding my breath anyway, and when we crest the hill, the valley stretching out beneath us, hope blossoms around my heart. I can see the water snaking below, a thick, gray line dividing here and everything after.
And there, next to the river, like in every dream I’ve had for months, are my parents. Masses of people surround them, crowds upon crowds walking with no place to go, stymied by a raised drawbridge cutting them off from the river, milling about death’s waiting room. But there’s no mistaking my parents, standing hand in hand, slightly apart from the rest, with heads raised toward the hilltop. Waiting. For me.
The air is so loaded with magic here I can barely breathe, but I leave Byron with Whit and sprint down to them at full speed, tripping over my feet. My heart is racing so fast it’s squeezing my chest.
Not real, not real, not real, I whisper to myself, just in case.
But I crash into my fragile-looking father, nearly knocking us both to the ground, and he is real. This is really happening.
“Hey, Firecracker,” my dad says, his eyes shining, and I totally lose it.
I grab numbly for my mom’s papery hand and try to say something to her — I love you, I missed you, anything — but the sobs choke out my words, and I’m hyperventilating.
“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Mom whispers, taking my face in her hands and wiping away the tears with her thumbs.
But she’s starting to weep herself as she smoothes my matted hair and looks me over, clasping a hand over her mouth. For the first time in a long while I’m aware of all the bruises on my pale skin, the cuts that haven’t yet healed, and the disgusting state of my clothes.
She takes me in her arms, rocking me. “My baby, what happened to you?” Her voice quivers.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay,” I say, but it’s not that convincing since I’m still crying. And still racked with confusion.
I pull away from her. “Why would you tell us not to come for you?” I look at both my parents. They don’t answer, but now that I’ve asked, and now that I’m here, it already doesn’t matter. I bury my face in Dad’s arms and grip Mom’s waist. Now I’m never, ever letting them go again.
“Can I join the happy reunion?” Whit says, looking at all of our puffy eyes and sad faces. I laugh weakly but hold out an arm to my brother. He squeezes my hand and enters the circle, ducking his head to hide his emotion. Tears are streaming freely down my dad’s gaunt cheeks.
The four of us stay like that, rocking and hugging, until I feel my mom shiver and I notice the goose bumps erupting on my own arms. A cool wind is picking up, and fast.
“Oh no,” a familiar voice moans from nearby. Celia! It’s always so good to see her, and I want to embrace her, but the look on her face makes me stop.
“Wha —?” I start