Duality

part nine

For once, Mila woke to silence. No one leaned over her, checking she still lived, and no one dragged her away into the woods. Her memory came back slowly, so that when she heard someone else breathing a millisecond slower than her, she sat up in a rush.

Ashton.

With his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the tree, he looked to be sleeping. The moon still shone above them, completing the scene. Mila traced a finger along the skin of his neck, finding no obvious seams. Almost like she'd never seen his skull—or that she'd imagined it. Delicately she pulled his eyelid back, revealing his dark gray pupil.

"Ashton?" she whispered. No movement, not even from the eye she stared at. She only moved her hand away because she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Until he woke up, there wasn't much she could do. She took the time to study herself, grimacing at her muddied and missing flowers. A mere thought later and they'd grown back: she had her powers again. Vines crept down her arms, tickling her, while she pressed a hand against her chest and neck, searching for a wound. For some reason, she'd blacked out too.

She couldn't feel any injuries, but didn't dismiss someone sneaking up on her. At the thought her gaze roamed across the strangely peaceful area around them. The rain had stopped, and the ground around them, at least, had dried.

How long had they been out?

"Ashton," Mila said again, giving his shoulder a shake. He moved, warm and pliable beneath her, but remained unconscious.

Shakily, she stood. She should leave before he woke, so she didn't have to lie—or suffer retaliation. Unfortunately, her feet wouldn't move. Part of her needed to see him up and living, one last time; another part of her didn't want to see Anna.

Avoiding her guardian, the person who had raised her, was an absurd idea. But the memory of being dragged through the woods into the unknown stuck with her, as did something else: Anna had lied. About him being dead, Mila didn't mind: Anna didn't know how to tell these things. But lying about where she'd buried the body?

Why had it mattered?

Mila looked down at Ashton's slumbering form and sat, knowing she wouldn't leave until he stirred. She couldn't leave him vulnerable in the woods: what if a predator came across him? Or a hunter?

Drawing her knees up under her chin, Mila gazed out into the distance.

She'd have to go back to Anna eventually, but hadn't figured out what to say. Did she say she'd never found the body, and believed him dead? That would take Anna's bloodlust out of the equation, but Mila could never prove she'd gotten his powers.

She could tell the truth, but she knew Anna would be unreceptive, even with proof. And then Anna would chastise her for staying with Ashton, knowing the threat he posed when he woke. Mila turned her head to study his relaxed, unaware face. Either Anna would insist on finding him and trying to kill him again, or she'd keep sending Mila.

In that case, Mila would lie for him. Keep him safe as long as she could, though in the end, Anna would get her way.

"You shouldn't have come," Mila decided softly. If he'd never found her at the pond, she wouldn't have gone looking for him. They could have existed in different worlds—him in the town, her in the woods—and never been placed in this situation.

If she walked away now, could they go back to that?

He stirred as though in response to her thoughts. On a long exhale, his arm fell to the side, his head turning the other way. Mila unfolded from her spot and started to move around the closest tree, in case she needed to hide.