Read Online Tribe: The Red Hand (Tribe Series Book 1) by Kaelyn Ross - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaelyn Ross
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coming!”
Kestrel tried to hold still, but it was as if her body had been invaded by a nest of writhing serpents. Her skin burned and itched and crawled. She screamed again, eyes bulging sightlessly.
Aiden called out once more, but his voice was receding.
She was falling. Falling and tumbling down the side of the canal. Down and down and down.
Blackness followed, but did not last.
She found herself looking up at the outline of a bird wheeling through the darkening sky. Then Aiden’s face was hovering over hers, blocking out everything else. He was saying something, but she could not hear him. She tried to answer, but her throat had quit working.
And then Aiden began to disappear under seething waves of gray-black flowers, and she felt herself slipping away, suffocating.
She fell into a nightmare filled with fiery pain and swirling images, a place where time had no meaning. Every time she blinked, she saw something different.
Once she saw the night sky, dusted with a sweep of brilliant stars. The next time she opened her eyes, the soft golden light of dawn had come, but she was looking down at one of the smooth concrete walkways lining the sides of the canal. Aiden’s heels flashed, one after the other, in and out of her line of sight. There was a painful pressure in her middle, as she bounced with his every stride. He’s carrying me , she thought with dazed amazement … and drifted away.
She opened her eyes and it was full dark again. Aiden was standing in front of her, shoving some bulbous, smelly bundle into her hands.
My Kill , she thought dully. It was so heavy now, and so large that she could barely wrap her arms around it. Kestrel almost let it fall, but a second thought made her hold it tight. I must keep it safe.
He spun her around. “Go, Kes,” he whispered against her ear. “Go home. You know the way. And remember, say nothing of the old city. For your life, Kes, remember that, and go home.” He shoved her forward.
And away she went, staggering, tripping, falling, getting up time and again along a familiar trail. The way home.
Her skin burned; her bones felt cracked and charred. The smell of pine sap and evergreen boughs filled her nose, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Instead, she walked into an enveloping black curtain, hearing her brother’s whisper: Go home … home … home.
When last she opened her eyes, Kestrel was again looking straight up. Dark tree branches blocked out most of the stars. She blinked, and then there were a dozen faces staring down at her; hungry faces made freakish and sinister by dancing firelight.
“No more fire,” she gasped.
Their hands reached, but they did not reach so much as stretch, growing thin and long, like strands of cake batter. Their faces began to ooze and drip.
Kestrel howled. And when those sticky, clutching fingers touched her, she thrashed and clawed, but could not drive them back. They caught hold of her, and she knew there would be no waking after this. No blinking away the nightmare. No retreating into the darkness. She was going to die.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re awake.”
Kestrel started. Until her mother spoke, she had not been consciously aware that she had been awake for some time, watching in a dreamy daze as a spider stalked a fly across the rough slat boards of her bedroom ceiling. She did not feel ill—a little weak, but otherwise well—and it was obvious she had not been devoured by the walking horrors that had found her. It was all a fever-dream , she thought, relieved.
She rolled her head on the pillow and looked at her mother. “How long have I been here?”
Tessa stopped a stride from the bed. She held a steaming stoneware cup in one hand. Using the other hand, she pushed her dark hair over her shoulder. The sunlight coming through the window flecked the loose strands with copper. A worry-line formed between her eyebrows. “Four days.”
“Four!” Kestrel flung back
Kestrel tried to hold still, but it was as if her body had been invaded by a nest of writhing serpents. Her skin burned and itched and crawled. She screamed again, eyes bulging sightlessly.
Aiden called out once more, but his voice was receding.
She was falling. Falling and tumbling down the side of the canal. Down and down and down.
Blackness followed, but did not last.
She found herself looking up at the outline of a bird wheeling through the darkening sky. Then Aiden’s face was hovering over hers, blocking out everything else. He was saying something, but she could not hear him. She tried to answer, but her throat had quit working.
And then Aiden began to disappear under seething waves of gray-black flowers, and she felt herself slipping away, suffocating.
She fell into a nightmare filled with fiery pain and swirling images, a place where time had no meaning. Every time she blinked, she saw something different.
Once she saw the night sky, dusted with a sweep of brilliant stars. The next time she opened her eyes, the soft golden light of dawn had come, but she was looking down at one of the smooth concrete walkways lining the sides of the canal. Aiden’s heels flashed, one after the other, in and out of her line of sight. There was a painful pressure in her middle, as she bounced with his every stride. He’s carrying me , she thought with dazed amazement … and drifted away.
She opened her eyes and it was full dark again. Aiden was standing in front of her, shoving some bulbous, smelly bundle into her hands.
My Kill , she thought dully. It was so heavy now, and so large that she could barely wrap her arms around it. Kestrel almost let it fall, but a second thought made her hold it tight. I must keep it safe.
He spun her around. “Go, Kes,” he whispered against her ear. “Go home. You know the way. And remember, say nothing of the old city. For your life, Kes, remember that, and go home.” He shoved her forward.
And away she went, staggering, tripping, falling, getting up time and again along a familiar trail. The way home.
Her skin burned; her bones felt cracked and charred. The smell of pine sap and evergreen boughs filled her nose, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Instead, she walked into an enveloping black curtain, hearing her brother’s whisper: Go home … home … home.
When last she opened her eyes, Kestrel was again looking straight up. Dark tree branches blocked out most of the stars. She blinked, and then there were a dozen faces staring down at her; hungry faces made freakish and sinister by dancing firelight.
“No more fire,” she gasped.
Their hands reached, but they did not reach so much as stretch, growing thin and long, like strands of cake batter. Their faces began to ooze and drip.
Kestrel howled. And when those sticky, clutching fingers touched her, she thrashed and clawed, but could not drive them back. They caught hold of her, and she knew there would be no waking after this. No blinking away the nightmare. No retreating into the darkness. She was going to die.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re awake.”
Kestrel started. Until her mother spoke, she had not been consciously aware that she had been awake for some time, watching in a dreamy daze as a spider stalked a fly across the rough slat boards of her bedroom ceiling. She did not feel ill—a little weak, but otherwise well—and it was obvious she had not been devoured by the walking horrors that had found her. It was all a fever-dream , she thought, relieved.
She rolled her head on the pillow and looked at her mother. “How long have I been here?”
Tessa stopped a stride from the bed. She held a steaming stoneware cup in one hand. Using the other hand, she pushed her dark hair over her shoulder. The sunlight coming through the window flecked the loose strands with copper. A worry-line formed between her eyebrows. “Four days.”
“Four!” Kestrel flung back
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