Equinox

Chapter Twenty Six

Third Person POV

Dylan, Gazzy, Nudge, and Angel were at the brink of the outcropping in an instant. Fang stood rooted to the spot. His fingers were curled around the delicate silver chain Max had forced into his hand. A slim black feather -one of his black feathers- ruffled in the breeze from the waterfall's spray. He swallowed thickly, staring down at it. Max had always worn that chain around her neck. He had seen the glint of it across her smooth skin practically as long as he could remember. Had she kept his feather so close to her heart all along? Such a thought was unfathomable.

And she had kissed him. Fang was still reeling, still trying to process the way she had looked at him- those deep, chocolate brown eyes so expressive, so conflicted up until the very last moment, when she had placed herself in his arms, a position he had longed for for quite some time. He hadn't meant to … to like her so much. He had been guarded against it from the beginning, but how could he not fall for her stubborn, brave nature and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed and the sparkle in her eyes when she smiled. How could he not fall for someone so effortlessly selfless and determined, so cunning, strategic, and protective. So beautiful in every way imaginable.

He had dared to hope on a few scant occasions, that something more than their prior arrangement would blossom between them. After all, he could make her flush so easily. Sometimes, he could feel her pulse quicken when they were in close proximity. And then his only competition had been obliterated. Fang had always had a sneaking suspicion that there was something going on between her and Dylan, but then he had overheard them in the cave- her letting him down as delicately as she could.

And now she had kissed him … then hurled herself off a cliff. Mixed signals, much?

"What's going on?" Iggy's voice was wild and fluctuating in pitch. "What happened? Was that kissing I heard? Did Max jump? Who was kissing?"

"Priorities, Iggy," Nudge warned, her tone edged with worry.

Dylan scanned the treacherous waves below. Max had somersaulted in the air a few times before she was sucked into the water with a harsh splash. White caps crested the churning basin around the base of the waterfall. He searched for even the slightest peek of her head or a spare limb with mounting alarm. As the ripples from the impact of her body faded, nothing else disturbed the surface of the pool. Where was she? She was taking too long. If she didn't come up soon then she would run out of air and drown. Sharp pricks erupted behind Dylan's eyes and he blinked to rid himself of the ensuing cluster of tears. She was fine. She would pop up with a grin and a wave any second. Any second now. His fingers dug into his khaki shorts. Any second now.

Angel clutched Gazzy's arm. Her face had drained of color. Gazzy reached out to support her. His insides twisted at the stricken look on her face. Grief shone through her blue eyes, which were so similar to his own.

"I can't hear her thoughts anymore," she sobbed. "She's gone."

"No," Dylan snarled.

He unshouldered his pack with an aggressive jerk. His bow and quiver landed in a tangled pile at his feet. He took a determined step toward the edge when Fang gripped a fistful of his shirt and roped him back.

"Get off me," Dylan barked maliciously. His voice was riddled with hostility and he struggled against Fang's hold. He took a swing at his head. Fang dodged the punch easily and stepped out of reach, glaring darkly. He wanted nothing more than the opportunity to knock a few of Dylan's teeth out, but he knew it wouldn't help them.

Max wouldn't want them to fight, even if such a brawl was a long time in the making.

Dylan absolutely loathed Fang at this point. If it wasn't for that stupid, constantly stoic, winged freak then Max would have surely fallen for him in due time. What did Fang have that he didn't? He had known her his entire life. They were partners. They were closer to one another than anyone. Yet all Fang had to do was swoop in and act all moody and mysterious, and suddenly Max was head over heels and Dylan was reduced to dirt.

But Dylan knew that one shouldn't speak ill of the dead … and according to Angel, Max was as good as.

"Please don't fight," Nudge begged, forcing her way between them. She pried the simmering boys away from one another, a palm flattened against each of their chests. Her brown curls had come partially undone from her ponytail, and the loops brushed her mocha shoulders.

Gazzy tugged beseechingly at Dylan's arm. His eyes swum with the tears he was fighting to hold back. The tension in Dylan's shoulders relaxed at the sight of Gazzy's grief. He stepped away from Fang and wrapped his elbow around Gazzy's head, pulling him into an embrace. If the situation were reversed, Max's sole objective would be to protect the others. Dylan would do what was expected of him, regardless of his animosity.

"What do we do now?" Iggy asked weakly. He had an arm around Angel's shoulders and she was leaning heavily against him, her gaze downcast. The loss of Max's leadership was a heavy toll, which resounded clearly through the group.

Dylan said "We get the hell off this island" at the same time that Fang replied "We find the other items for the summoning."

The two glared mutinously at one another.

"I'm a little more concerned about everyone's safety right now," Dylan growled.

Fang rolled his eyes. "No one will be safe if the paranormals succeed. We have to do everything we can to stop them. Do you think Max would quit?"

Dylan could have throttled him then, but Gazzy had a firm grip on his forearm. How dare he presume that he knew better what Max would do in any given situation. Fang could boast Max's affection all he wanted. Dylan would always have an entire lifetime of experience with her.

"Um," Iggy interrupted. "Not that I totally don't sympathize on both of your behalf, but how exactly are we going to get all three of the other ingredients? I mean, Max … she … she d-died trying to get the stone. Even if we find the other two, what about that?"

Fang had already prepared a response. "First we can find lower ground and access the river from there. We should have done that in the first place. Besides, her … her body probably followed the current."

Despite his seeming nonchalance, Fang felt like he was being eaten alive by agony. He had to attune all his focus on maintaining a calm facade. Otherwise he'd think … and he didn't want to entertain thoughts of Max's lifeless corpse. All the endless possibilities for his future had withered in the instant it took for her to sink beneath the surface. He still felt partially in denial. How could she be dead before her life had really even started?

He desperately needed something to channel his energy into, and saving the world seemed a noble enough cause to achieve in her memory.

"Fang's right," Gazzy agreed quietly, a slight hiccup breaking the words apart. The brave face he was trying to assemble wavered and a fresh wave of tears inundated his senses. He tried his best to divert them, but in the end he was still only nine years old and had just lost the closest thing to a mother figure that he had.

Dylan had to unwillingly agree. It was five to one, and there was no way he was leaving Gazzy behind. Max would positively rise from her watery grave and kill him. "We're not going to get anywhere from here. Let's go back through the cave and follow along the mountain chain. Eventually we'll come across the river."

Wordlessly, the others followed his lead. Silence weighed heavily between them. Their brief respite of planning had distracted them from the bitter truth revolving above their heads, but now as they trudged through the darkness and once more into the light, Max's death began to sink in like the stabbing of a knife. The words were almost impossible to admit. Max … dead. The two just didn't go together.

After Dylan checked to make sure the coast was clear, the flock jumped from the cliff, and catching the drafts beneath their wings, spiraled lazily to the ground. Fang remained hovering in the air as Gazzy and Dylan began their climbing descent. He'd be able to catch them if they slipped. However, he thought darkly about letting Dylan fall. Then he wouldn't have to deal with his insufferable glares any longer. Karma for taking a swipe at him earlier.

But Dylan scaled the wall like a pro, and Gazzy only sent a scatter of rocks raining down below as he scrabbled for footing once.

The group reassembled their formation, with Fang compensating for the glaringly missing link in their party. He glanced sourly at the spot where Max should have been, remembering when she had gotten stuck earlier that day and how he had had to help her regain her footing. He had wanted so badly to kiss her then. Her pink lips had been centimeters from his. What if that had been his only chance? What if she hadn't kissed him before she took her dive? He never would have known what it was like to wrap his arms around her, to feel her slightly chapped lips pressed against his. Why couldn't he have plucked up his nerve and done something about his feelings for her sooner? They could have had weeks together, roaming the Coalition headquarters and hunting down dangerous paranormals.

Now all he had was the ghost of a pressure on his mouth and the necklace of a dead girl weighing in his pocket.

About thirty minutes of skirting around the jagged slopes of the mountains later, Iggy announced that he could hear running water. Then, the sound of a rushing river filled the others' ears. They followed the gurgling south, maneuvering carefully over piles of stone that were morphing from serrated rock to smooth, bulbous boulders. Soon, the six of them spilled onto a thin strip of pebbly beach, which had formed at a bend in the river.

Dylan kneeled at the bank. There was no sign of Max. He closed his eyes, letting his last shred of hope dissolve. He had considered the notion that Max had gotten pulled under and swept from the cove with the current, and that maybe she had managed to drag herself ashore. There was nothing in sight though but foliage and the now serene, greenish water of the river.

"I'll try to contact the spirit of the river. The rest of you find someplace to hide. It's best to do this alone," Dylan mumbled. His heart was no longer in it. In fact, his heart had been ripped forcefully from his chest. He didn't care about anything: not himself, not the flock, not even the rest of the world. He just wanted Max.

The flock and Gazzy hastily backed away. After a few minutes of searching, they found a cluster of large boulders and climbed into the indent in the earth between them. The space was a bit snug, but if they craned their necks and squinted through the thin holes in the conglomeration of stone, they could still see Dylan's prone figure kneeling in the sand.

With a resigned sigh, Dylan stretched a hand out and tapped the surface of the water gently with the pad of his finger. Ensuing ripples coalesced from his contact, spreading in every widening arcs. After a pause, he did the same again. Then a third time. As he leaned over the water, his reflection began to grow murky. When he could no longer see even a hint of his features, he plunged his entire fist beneath the surface. Immediately, he felt pressure enveloping his hand. Wispy strands of clear liquid wound like rope up his arm, webbing out from his shoulder, up his neck, and over his forehead. Wherever the substance touched, his skin tingled, but his clothing remained dry.

A prick of fear nestled deep in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't a nymph. Those he could deal with. They manifested in the form of beautiful women, and by nature they reflected the body of water they inhabited. The stretch of steady river before him should have been home to a relatively docile nymph. He could have wooed her with a few choice words and been gone in a matter of minutes. But the power taking hold of him now was much older and stronger. This was the domain of a river god, who could potentially be a bit more finicky than a nymph.

"I come to you, beseeching, that your glory may permit me what I desire." Dylan recited the text book lines that had been ingrained in his memory from many years of study. Proper praise and politeness was the way to win over an ancient deity.

Water lapped at his knees. Movement stirred in the mud coating the bottom of the river. A massive face blinked from the sludge, eyes pale and wise, cheeks wrinkled with age, and green, algae-like hair rippling from its head and beard.

"Tell me what you seek." The voice slithered through his ears like the trickling whisper of moving water.

"A stone with your blessing from the bed of your river," he relayed robotically.

"Lies," the head hissed. Dylan was momentarily stricken, but his qualms were appeased with the god's next words. "I will give you what you ask, but know that I see your heart, and this request is not what you desire."

Against all natural laws of buoyancy, a gray pebble rose to the surface of the river. Dylan plucked it quickly from the water. It was smooth and laced with turquoise veins. He slipped it into his pocket, uttered a thank you, and retracted his hand from the grip of the god. The face diffused and soaked back into the riverbed.

Dylan shoved to a stand just as a muffled thump echoed behind him. He whirled, but his bow was still nestled in the sand. His hand flashed to his belt, where he had tucked a few knives, but he was too late. A whole hoard of paranormals emerged from behind the rocks. Neither he or any member of the flock had sensed them coming. The warlock that had knicked Dylan's arm with Max's lamia-slaying blade led the party, the lines of his face smug as he pointed a finger at Dylan, who found that he was cemented to the spot. All he could do was spastically twitch his eyeballs around in their sockets.

"Take him," the warlock ordered sharply. "Forget the others. Petran only needs one."

Two swaggering figures approached. They were stocky and smiled patronizingly, their mouths stacked with yellow, rotting teeth. Probably werewolves. They weren't dressed for the tropical environment. They had hats smashed over their matted hair and long sleeves and pants. Definitely werewolves. Those who desired a more permanent transformation often tried to emulate their fur coats by staying bundled at all times. Unfortunately for Dylan, that meant they were sweating profusely and smelled like the inside of Gazzy's intestinal track.

Not pleasant.

Fang watched with an uncertain mixture of horror and spiteful glee as they carried a frozen Dylan out of sight. Everything had happened so quickly that none of them had been given the chance to react. They had all been so focused on the transaction between Dylan and the deity of the river that they hadn't been paying much attention to unwanted perpetrators.

When the stampede of paranormals had faded a safe distance, Nudge abruptly burst into tears.

Fang's eyes widened minutely in alarm. Iggy leaned away, grimacing. Gazzy's brow crinkled and Angel began patting her shoulder soothingly. Nudge wailed on and on until, finally, she began speaking between intervals in her gasping breaths.

"This is the worst day ever," she howled, tears streaming in steady rivulets down her now red, puffy cheeks. "First of all, I'm a thirteen year old girl who just watched a friend plummet to her death and nobody has given me the proper time to even so much as begin to absorb that. Then Dylan, who is the only one of us who actually has any experience with paranormals -no offense Gazzy- while we're on an island jam packed with the murderous freaks, has just been kidnapped. Not to mention he's still got the second item we need to summon the phoenix who will save the world from impending doom via monster takeover. AND WE STILL HAVE TO FIND TWO MORE."

She sucked down a ginormous gulp of oxygen upon finishing her rant, tear tracks glistening on her face.

"We'd still be dumpster diving and sleeping in trees if it wasn't for Max," Iggy added morosely. He was getting a little choked up himself. Max had saved them, and now she was gone and nothing was going right.

"Stop." Fang glowered. He didn't want to think about Max. He. Did. Not. Want. To. Think. About. Max. "We're not throwing ourselves a pity party. We're going to go after them, save Dylan's sorry ass, and then we're going to finish what Max started. Alright?"

He turned his stare to each of them in turn. They nodded, every one of their expressions settling into determination. They were on a mission, and they would carry out that mission regardless of what losses they suffered.

-o-o-o-

Dylan was tied to a stake in the middle of a pyramid of stacked wood. How poetic. They were going to burn the hunter to death. Control over his limbs had returned, but the paranormals had relinquished him of all his weapons and he was strung up too tightly to even squirm much.

Torches lit the circumference of the pit. Evening had fallen in the time it took them to reach their destination, and midnight was swiftly approaching. The blessed stone was still in his pocket. The creatures hadn't seen fit to rid him of that, but it wouldn't matter. Even if Gazzy and the flock had managed to locate the summit flower, they couldn't get the pebble or a bone of the earth goddess in time to summon the phoenix before the equinox took effect and the power paranormals experienced on that day turned everlasting.

How did he know the final item hadn't been collected? Because it was here, in the pit, and he figured he would have noticed if they had arrived. The symbol etched above the cave entrance that the troll and lamia had been guarding had looked awfully familiar to Dylan, but he hadn't been able to place it until then, when he had stared at it for hours as he waited for what would surely result in his death.

Deals for eternal strength always entailed a little sacrifice.

He still wasn't positive of the meaning, but a little loose translation backed up by his memory confirmed that this was the 'final resting place of the earth goddess'. Or some hullabaloo like that. It was about to be his final resting place, too. Maybe his liver or spleen would make it into the recipe for a summoning spell as well.

"Dylan, wasn't it? You look awfully familiar young man."

Dimitri Petran circled like a shark, fangs and all, around the pyre. He had ditched the cloak in favor of a more fashionable ensemble. His smug smile deepened as Dylan snarled and fought against his restraints. Petran tsked and stepped back, perhaps wary that Dylan's rage would lend him the strength needed to tear through the ropes binding him.

"Such hostility," Petran admonished.

"I'll kill you," Dylan swore, his blue eyes alight with vengeance. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he struggled. His conviction wasn't deterred by the harsh burn of the rope as it bit into his skin. He would rip the leech scum that had murdered his parents limb from limb if he had to.

Petran chuckled privately as he turned from Dylan's blazing glare and approached a group of paranormals that had just descended into the pit. More and more were streaming down the stairs and gathering around the pile of wood that Dylan stood atop of. His bid for revenge was slightly skewed by the immediate danger posed to his life.

Where was Fang and his preaches about carrying out Max's plan now? Was he even going to attempt to rescue him at all? Probably they had done exactly what Dylan had wanted to do in the first place: run.

In reality, Fang and the rest were very near, and plotting ways to save Dylan, but that was no easy task. Fang wasn't willing to put anyone else in danger, but he knew he couldn't just abandon Dylan, even if he really couldn't stand the kid. Dylan surely didn't deserve to burn at the stake just because Fang thought he was an annoying prick. Besides, Gazzy wasn't going anywhere without him.

Their window of opportunity was rapidly closing, though. Midnight was minutes away and Petran had begun to settle the writhing crowd. He held a glowing torch up to silence the paranormals. Their noises trickled to nothing but the vaguest rustles.

"Our time for vengeance nears," Petran announced. The black chasm of his eyes reflected eerily the flickering torchlight. "Soon the reign of the supernatural race will begin. Humans have enjoyed their comforts for too long. At the hands of the so-called Coalition to Stop the Madness they have been allowed to bask in their ignorance of our kind, to believe us myth and fantasy as we are hunted by those with knowledge. The Vernal Equinox marks the day in which we become the predators and they the prey."

"Yeah, um, no."

A strong voice cracked like a whip through the pause following Petran's speech. The paranormals, who were poised to celebrate, glanced about in confusion. Petran's brow crumpled in fury, and he whirled to face the worthless being that would dare to interrupt him with such insolence.

"As much fun as that sounds, I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with this whole mass slaughter and take over the world thing. Ambitious, I admit, but totally unacceptable."

Dylan raised his eyes to the upper lip of the pit. Standing at the rim was a figure ablaze with light. Wings sprouted from its otherwise humanoid back. Feathers in an overlay of red, orange, and yellow combined in such a way that resembled fire. The tips were black and smoldering. Embers dripped from them and splattered against the ground like live coals. Glowing, golden orange veins laced the figure's face and disappeared beneath its tattered shirt. Every part of its body seemed to burn with light, as if its very bloodstream had been replaced by molten lava.

It was Max … and she was the phoenix.