Equinox

Chapter Twenty Three

I struggled with every ounce of strength I had, but the poltergeist had full control of my limbs. Briefly, I wondered what it must be like, watching me advance with my eyes glassy and devoid of emotion. But then I was within reach of Dylan, and I had to focus on trying to regain access to my own body.

He took a step toward me, making like he was going to throw his arms around my torso in the hopes to restrain me. The poltergeist didn't give him the chance. With horror, I watched my fist connect with his jaw with a snap. His head flew back and spit flew from the corner of his mouth. My right leg lifted and gave him a roundhouse kick to the gut. He landed in a crumpled heap on the forest floor, moaning unintelligibly and rolling to his back.

A muffled squeal drew the poltergeist's attention. With exaggerated slowness, my neck rotated around in sharp ticks. Nudge stood a few feet away, her hand clasped over her mouth. Her brown eyes were wide with terror. After my head was twisted as far as it could go, the rest of my body turned to align with it. She was frozen to the spot. I took an unwilling step toward her and she didn't move. Another, and she managed to stagger back. A third, and her entire frame wracked with tremors. She dodged to one side, then the other. Her fight or flight instinct was kicking in, but the tree cover was too thick for her to take off. She'd end up injuring herself.

A dark shape stepped between us. My chin lifted from Nudge to meet Fang's steely gaze. His feet were planted firmly in the soil. He had no intention of letting me anywhere near her. Unfortunately for him, his protective stance seemed to only further enrage the already furious spirit inhabiting my body. My spine bent against my constant attempts to stop it, and I charged toward him.

He shifted slightly, but he was compensating for my weight instead of the true strength of the poltergeist. There was a lot more force behind my strikes than normal. My shoulder struck his and I drove him backward, straight into the trunk of a tree. He winced as his back grated against the bark, but the poltergeist was merciless. Internally, I was screaming in frustration. I had to stop before someone was seriously injured, but I had no training for being trapped in my own body.

My hands clamped around his throat. The scar on the back of my palm was stretched pale. Fang struggled, beating his fists against my torso, but he seemed unwilling to afford me any serious blows. He tried stomping on my foot and kicking my shins, but the power of the poltergeist suffused me with a certain degree of immunity. I felt no pain.

"Max," Fang gurgled. "Max."

I was choking the life out of him, but he didn't look scared. All the color had drained from his face, but he regarded me with those obsidian eyes just like the day when Lissa had left … when he had casually informed me that there was only one person he wanted to kiss.

A blow from behind had the poltergeist craning my neck again. Nudge was glaring fiercely at me, fists raised. I'm sure she was aiming to distract me, but apparently the poltergeist was a good multi-tasker. One of my hands was removed from Fang's neck for a split second- just long enough to fly back and knock Nudge to the ground with a cry of pain. Then I was back to strangling Fang.

His defensive strikes were lessening. He was dying. At my hands, nonetheless. I could feel the gloating surging in waves from the poltergeist. So it thought it could just possess me and kill all my friends? Clearly, it didn't know the girl whose body it had seized. There were a lot of unaddressed emotions between Fang and I, and I wasn't about to let him die before I at least got the chance to figure my own screwed up imbalances out.

Fang's eyes were growing heavy lidded. I concentrated all my effort on my fingers, which were squeezing even tighter around his throat. There would be bruises for sure.

Let go, let go, let go, let go, let go. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of my face. Let go, let go, let go. My panic levels increased to a peak. Let go, let go. Fang's shoulders were slumping. LET GO.

Something snapped inside me, like an elastic band. I collapsed to the ground, chest heaving. Glorious sensation had returned to my extremities. The poltergeist was either destroyed or had fled. Beside me, Fang had fallen to his knees. He coughed and wheezed for air. Slowly, I crawled to him. His breathing was ragged as he looked up, regarding me calculatingly.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled through numb lips.

He placed his hand over mine, the corner of his mouth twitching. Warmth spread over my collar and onto my cheeks. The buoyant feeling Fang's semi-smile had given me quickly evaporated into dread, though.

"We have to go back. We have to get the others. We have to make a plan. We have to go," I insisted, working myself into a frenzy.

"Max, slow down," Fang said softly, squeezing my hand.

"We don't have time," I reminded him beseechingly. "The equinox is in three days."

-o-o-o-

The explanation as to how the seven of us ended up on a plane flying over the gulf was really not as elaborate as one may think.

I hadn't slept a wink the rest of that night. As soon as we got back to the compound, I determined a location for the coordinates that the Argent ghost had given us. The points connected over an unoccupied island in the Caribbean. I wasn't sure what to expect when we got there, but I knew we had to go nonetheless. The words equinox, ceremony, eternal strength, and island were all I had to work with, and they didn't create a pretty picture in the context of paranormals.

Waiting for morning had been the hardest part. I had packed and repacked a bag a thousand times before I finally barged into Anne's office at the crack of dawn. Her coffee had just been delivered, and she regarded me sleepily as I slammed the door shut behind me. Without wasting a breath I informed her that I knew about my father, knew that they had both seemingly devised some scheme to make me think he was dead, and that if she didn't want me to make her life a living hell she would arrange for a pilot and a jet with enough fuel to get us to the Caribbean and back to pick us up within the hour or so help me she would regret it.

She had gaped a little, of course. Opened her mouth as if she was going to pose a question but thought better of it. Then she nodded and reached for her phone, surprisingly complacent. Whether it was my threat of impending doom or the disorientation of an early morning, I had gotten what I wanted without a second glance.

But we had a long flight ahead of us, and despite our cramped quarters, I was left with a little too much room for my mind to wander. We were speeding toward a hazy mass of immense uncertainty. Where exactly were we going? What could I expect to find when we arrived? More importantly: how would I -a teenage girl and her gang of unusually paired hunters and mutants- stop whatever danger was being posed?

Yet really, the only thing I couldn't get out of my head was my father.

"If Jeb Batchelder is your dad, then why is your last name Ride?" Fang asked with mild curiosity- and completely out of the blue.

I threw a hasty glance to where the others were seated. Iggy and Gazzy were fumbling with a pile of metallic objects, Dylan was gazing out a window with his chin nestled in his hand, and Nudge and Angel were lounging along the plush cushions that ran the length of the small, luxury jet. None of them were paying any attention to Fang and I, standing at the rear of the plane. I turned back to the drink I was pouring, relieved that no one had overheard. I still hadn't told Dylan that I had seen Jeb at the School, and I preferred to keep it that way for the time being.

"I changed it after he died," I mumbled from the corner of my mouth, setting the pitcher of water back in its place. "After I thought he died."

Fang leaned a hip against the counter. The hem of his black, cotton t-shirt rode up and I had to fight to ignore the exposed patch of his olive skin. All too vivid images of his six-pack abs consumed my memory, igniting a small fire in the pit of my stomach. The kid was seriously too good looking, what could possibly be the point? There was no survival mechanism that came along with being surly and mysterious.

"So the two of you were close?"

I stared at him. He returned my gaze, unflinching and unapologetic. His face was impassive. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking, or why he was asking me about Jeb in the first place. It occurred to me that, just like Dylan would in this situation, he thought I needed to talk about it. Mr. Emotionless was trying to get me to express my feelings in the only way he knew how. My resolve softened at the notion. Did Fang care enough about me for that?

"I don't know what kind of memories you all have of him … but to me, he was the best dad in the world," I said slowly. My tooth found its way to my lip, and I gnawed on the soft flesh a moment before continuing. "I adored him. He was all I had, really. I never met my mother, so to me all I needed was a father. As bad as it sounds, I felt kind … privileged to have Jeb. You have to understand, the only other kids I grew up with were Dylan and Gazzy, and well … they're orphans. We were being raised very similarly, but I had something they didn't, you know? I thought I was lucky."

A painful hitch was forming in my throat, and I had to swallow several times to work over it.

"But?" Fang prodded.

"But then he died." I shrugged. "I went through all kinds of stages of grief. At first I was totally catatonic, and then I absolutely hated him. That's when I implemented the name change. How could he just go off and die on me like that? Of course that's nothing to how I feel now, because it was just all a big fabrication, and he's been alive this whole time. Who does that to their child?"

My bitter accusation unraveled in the air between us and dissolved to dust. I tried to compose myself, rearranging my features so that I projected only indifference. But Fang wasn't looking at me with any pity or sorrow. He didn't seem to be in the business of feeling sorry for anyone, least of all the girl whose father had performed gruesome experiments on him and what he had for a family.

"Jeb's the worst," he stated decidedly, smirking.

I snorted. "Totally."

I sipped at my water as we joined the rest of our companions. The ice cubes clinked against the glass as Fang and I settled into seats next to one another. Dylan, who was in the aisle opposite, gave me an unreadable stare as I plopped into place beside Fang. I smiled, but his only response was to shift so that I could only see the side of his profile. He rested his head against the window and I, stifling a sigh, turned to gaze out at the clouds surrounding us. The last thing I wanted to deal with right now were his feelings toward me, which were becoming more abundantly clear by the day.

"So what's the game plan?" Iggy piped up from where he was tinkering with some sort of contraption on the floor.

All eyes turned to me.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Iggy had been at the séance. He knew as much about what we were getting ourselves into as I did … which was basically nothing.

"Once we get there we'll be able to scope around and get a better grasp of things. We've prepared for virtually any combination of paranormals. So for now, we just have to expect the unexpected."

Gazzy nodded meditatively. "So basically, there is no plan?

-o-o-o-

It was in the late hours of night when our old, creaking boat ran up on the beach and stuck fast in the powder white sand. We had commissioned the vessel from a toothy, elderly man who barely spoke a word of English. The boards were crumbling and what was left of the original paint was peeling and unintelligible. Arriving by jet would have been a bit too conspicuous, so we had landed on the nearest island with an airport and paid a hefty sum to take the almost sinking ship from its owner, who -truthfully- seemed glad to be rid of it.

As we stumbled off the deck and onto solid ground, Gazzy was still looking a little green around the gills and Dylan swayed as we mounted the beach. A second later, those of our party with wings landed with hushed thumps around us. They had elected to take the last leg of our journey by air rather than risk three hours on a virtual dingy like the rest of us troopers. So not fair.

I surveyed our surroundings with hands propped on my hips. The beach itself was narrow and quickly gave way to thick vegetation. Tropical plants grew waist high and large palm trees soared into the atmosphere. The moon was swelled to nearly full in the inky sky, and it cast its pale glow over everything in sight. Even so, I could only see a few feet into the dark green foliage. In the distance, tall mountain-like structures peppered the horizon. I couldn't tell if they were on the opposite coast or if they blocked it. To either side, the beach stretched for miles before blurring and curving from view.

We had a lot of ground to cover.

"We need to find someplace safe to bunker down for the night," Dylan announced, scanning the treeline. His bulging pack was already slung over his broad shoulders.

"We just got here," I argued. "Shouldn't we at least look around a little first?"

Dylan shot me an exasperated look. "It's the middle of the night, Max. What do you expect us to find?"

"I don't know about you guys," Iggy interrupted, "but I think we should just follow the chanting."

I blanched at him. The what? But he was already moving, his long legs bounding toward the forest. In the moonlight, his milky skin practically glowed. Wildly, I looked to Fang. He shrugged and jogged after Iggy. After my momentary shock wore off, I scrambled to follow suit. The others quickly fell into place behind.

After a few near tree collisions, it took the combined effort of both Fang and Gazzy to steer Iggy through the dense undergrowth. It took all my concentration not to trip head over heels myself, so I could imagine the struggle of a blind man moving a little too excitedly through the thickly populated forest.

Eventually, he slowed, indicating that we were nearing the source of whatever chanting he could hear. We began to pick our way more carefully through the foliage. I wasn't exactly sure how much land we had traversed. It was hard to keep track in the darkness. A minute or two later, my ears pricked with sound. It started as a low, distant hum. The closer we drew in proximity, the louder the noise became, until a whole drone of voices swelled into the night air. A shiver wracked down my spine. What could possibly be making such a ghoulish, haunting racket in the midst of an unpopulated island?

"What kind of satanic shit is this?" Dylan muttered.

Our eyes met in the shadow. His pupils were dilated so that only a thin ring of the usually beautiful blue remained. He was terrified. And with good reason.

Argent's ghost had warned us of this. It hadn't been that hard to draw a hypothesis from the fractured information he supplied. A ceremony performed by paranormals, on an island on the Vernal Equinox, aiming toward eternal strength.

I just hadn't predicted that their singalongs would make me want to wet myself.

The steep incline we had been ascending tapered off to a stop. The earth before us plunged into a circular pit awash with yellow light from the roaring bonfire in the center. I flattened myself to the ground and peered between the leaves of a large, fern-like plant. On either side of me, the others did the same. I couldn't speak for them, but personally, I didn't even dare to breathe.

A large audience of shadowy, crooked figures was assembled around the circumference of the deep impression in the earth. As if their caterwauling wasn't creepy enough, they were all decked in black robes with the hoods drawn. Did supernatural creatures have secret societies? Because if so, I imagined this to be what their meetings looked like.

The tall flames cast their flickering light lazily over the jagged stone walls of the pit. Ash black symbols were carved into seemingly every available surface. Though I tried, I didn't recognize enough of the archaic, swirling characters to translate. My attention was then drawn from them by the last long, chilling strand of the paranormals' chant. The note resonated eerily in my bones.

A lone figure stepped from the sea of darkly clad attendees. He tossed back his hood to reveal a bloodcurdlingly familiar face. To my right, Gazzy clung tightly to my forearm, but neither of us could dare remove our eyes from Dimitri Petran- the most notoriously heinous vampire of the last century. He was practically numero uno on every hunters wanted list. Basically he was the new age Dracula amongst the paranormal community. He had a victim log that stretched to all inhabited continents. He embodied everything that was ruthless and inhuman … and he was standing within my range.

Beside me, I could feel Dylan's entire body vibrating with suppressed rage. Dimitri Petran had killed his parents when he was less than a year old.

"Brethren," Petran called warmly, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of grateful reception. His deep, sickly smooth voice made my skin scrawl. "Welcome, one and all. Tonight we gather as a united force against those that have hunted us to near extinction."

A roar rippled through the crowd. Near human shouts mingled with growls and snarls. Every last one of them was out for blood.

"By this time tomorrow we will have summoned enough strength for every supernatural creature in existence to crush the bones of a hunter with their bare hands. Our attempts at maintaining the power only afforded to us annually have been faulty and fleeting, but that time is over. The Vernal Equinox approaches, and upon that hour we will have secured our strength for eternity."

Petran threw his hands to the air, greasy haired head back, and relished in the mounting celebration and excitement of the paranormals around him. I could see every last decayed vein blackening his complexion. I wanted to rip him limb from limb. I wanted to crush his bones with my bare hands. But such a mission was sure suicide in the present conditions.

When the congregated creatures' revelry had subsided, Petran resumed speaking. "We are joined by the oracle of this island, who will now hopefully confirm with her prediction our triumph."

I scanned the crowd, but other than a few shuffles and whispers, no one came forth. Then there was movement, but not from the ring of figures clumped around the edge of the pit. No, it was the fire that changed, suddenly blazing dark purple. Pertran looked expectantly to the wisps of purplish gray smoke gathering before him. The haze took the humanoid form of a woman in sweeping robes.

"In the beginning, there was nothing."

Her voice was like fire: deep, slow, and sultry. It rasped from her throat and echoed into the night. She need not speak loudly. Every creature within a mile radius was rapt at attention.

"The energy of the gods swirled freely through the earth … and then life was introduced to this barren landscape. Not a day since has passed without conflict between the races. You seek to further upset the balance of a world that is already measured by its tendency toward disorder and chaos. A bleak existence remains for humans should you succeed in your endeavors to secure eternal power … but balance, no matter how fleeting, may prevail with the rise of the phoenix …

"And the phoenix will rise."