Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
When he raises it again, I am him and he is me.
And I have done the unthinkable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - CALLISTINA
There are parts of the trip that are familiar.
Eros and I are standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, when everything shifts. The air becomes blurry first. Then it takes on the appearance of water, a distortion of something on the other side.
But then, in the next moment, I’m in the hallway staring at my door. On the other side is movement, a little bit like the first time when we came out on Ire’s back. But it’s not the smooth rhythm of a walking pegásius, but more like a jarring and jolty runner.
Then, in this same instant, I’m there. In that motion. I am that motion and I am, indeed, running. But something is wrong with my body because I’m shaking all over. Like I’m cold, but it’s not cold here. It’s hot and humid and I am not shivering.
I’m wearing the dress I put on that morning we left Savage Falls. The sand-colored one that made me look like a pretty peasant. And I have this moment of loss. This feeling of losing. Because my gryphon chimera body must be gone and I must be just this stupid, magicless human again.
It only lasts an instant though, because that’s not right. I am a chimera. I am me. I can feel the weight of the antlers on top of my head. I can feel the way the boots I’m wearing don’t quite fit me because I no longer have feet, but paws. And when I look down at my pumping arms as I run, run, run, I see the soft, short golden velvet fur that covers my whole body underneath this dress.
Why am I wearing this dress in this body?
And why am I running? In fact, the urgent pace of my movement is distracting and the effort I’m putting into it is disproportionate to what I’m feeling. Because my legs are pumping hard, working hard. My boots are pounding the ground, the stones, thick, fallen tree trunks as I scramble over them. My breath coming out of my mouth in ragged gasps. My lungs burning.
I am afraid.
I look down again, and the soft velvet fur is gone. My boots fit correctly. There is no weight of antlers on the top of my head. It was left over from the other world? The other door?
An overwhelming feeling of sadness floods through me and I want to be sad about this. I want to wallow in human misery.
But then I hear the footfalls behind me.
And I realize I’m not simply running, I’m being chased.
What the hell is happening here?
We have gone back in time, obviously. It fits the pattern, but more obviously, I’m wearing the dress I started out in.
This is when traveling me and other me coalesce into one and I am her.
I want to stop and think. To catch my breath. But there is a voice in my head, so clear, like it’s another person running with me, screaming, Don’t. Stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t. Stop. Over and over again, to the rhythm of my feet. Like my life depends on this run.
Which is not a run.
It’s an escape.
I go faster, try harder. The muscles in my thighs burning from spent energy. My lungs no longer working right. My vision blurry.
And then I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder and I scream.
Someone, somewhere in the forest, calls, “Callistina!”
And it’s Eros. I know it’s Eros.
But it can’t be Eros, because Eros is the monster who’s chasing me.
A scream of pure terror bursts out of me. Like a last-ditch wail of a rabbit that’s about to be caught in the jaws of a wolf.
“Callistina!” Eros screams again. But he’s much too far away to stop what happens next, which only takes a matter of moments.
I look over my shoulder.
Mistake, mistake, mistake… This is the new mantra on repeat inside my head.
And it is a mistake. In every way possible. Because I see who is chasing me and it is Eros.
But not my Eros. This is a man-god who I do not know. The very one I was sleeping next to for weeks before we walked through the doors, but something else altogether. Because his face is nothing but hate.
Hate is his soulmate, his soulmate is hate.
I trip and fall, but scramble to my feet and keep running. I must run from him. Because if he catches me—
And that’s when he catches me. His fist grabbing at this stupid dress. But it rips and I lunge forward, a second chance.
Suddenly he stops and for a moment I have this unreasonable hope—I mean, at this point in my life, there is no reason to hope for anything, so it’s all very unreasonable. But I feel the hope in my chest. He’s realized this is a mistake. He’s not going to hurt me. He can hear himself, somewhere in the distance, calling for me in the woods.