Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I know that, and I understand your concern, but that’s not the case here. They weren’t lying about what happened to them.” I placed my hand across my chest. “I know they weren’t.”
“I hate to side with Darya, but I agree. I watched how Vasilios was with her and he seemed genuine,” Belinda said, surprising me and drawing my mother’s attention.
“What is it? Did the ghost say something?” Dad asked.
Mum nodded. “She believes Vasilios is genuine.” She paused a moment, then brought her attention back to me. “Even if that’s true, Darya, it still doesn’t mean you should go after him. Your granddad Martin went to that place and if you’d seen him when I finally got him home you’d be going out of your way to avoid ever journeying there.”
Dad was studying me quietly now, but he didn’t need to speak for me to know that he was currently concocting plans to lock me in the attic and throw away the key. So far I hadn’t told anyone about the visions Sarasin had shown me. My parents had no idea that I’d already seen my future in Oreylia. In my mind I was already there, and there was nothing they could do or say to stop me from going.
Funny how only a few weeks ago I’d been dead set on changing direction. Now I felt partly responsible for Red Armand recapturing Vas and Sven. If I hadn’t gone undercover to the prison then Vas never would’ve gotten strong enough to escape and walk right into his trap.
I had to at least try to help them. I wouldn’t be able to rest peacefully until I did.
Before my parents could throw a hundred more reasons at me as to why they wouldn’t allow me to go to Oreylia, the kitchen door quietly opened and Carrabelle stepped inside.
“Good morning,” she said in a small, accented voice as we all turned to take her in.
2.
She was using a crutch for her bad leg and there were small bandages over the cuts on her face. Her long, dark hair had been tied back in a braid. I recognised it as my sister’s handiwork. Rebecca had always been good at doing hair. Carra wore a pair of fleece pyjamas that also belonged to Rebecca.
Dad was quick to pull out a chair for her while Mum put together a breakfast plate. She stared at the bacon and pancakes like she’d never seen so much food before in her life.
“We’ll leave you to eat,” Mum said. “Your father and I will bring Carra to the station later.” I was about to protest when Dad held up a hand.
“They just want to ask her a few questions, that’s all. No big interrogation. It’ll be over fast.”
“That’s okay,” Carra offered. “I don’t mind answering questions.”
“Are you sure? Because if you aren’t up to it—”
“Really, it’s fine. I’m up to it.”
I didn’t argue with my parents on her behalf further, though I still wasn’t keen on them bringing her to the Guard headquarters when she’d barely had one night to rest from all she’d been through. Mum and Dad went then, and Belinda glided out after them. I heard my dad leave, probably to check in with the Hawthorn Council and inform them of recent events. My mother remained in the house. Other than attending school, I doubted my parents would be allowing me much freedom for a while, not after hearing my plans to go to Oreylia.
“How did you sleep?” I asked Carra as I shoved a piece of bacon into my mouth.
“Better than I have in weeks,” she answered, still staring at the food in front of her like she didn’t know where to start.
“Is everything okay? I can get you something else to eat if you don’t like pancakes. Or, um, are you a vegetarian?”
She glanced at me with her brown doe eyes, a world of pain and suffering held within them, and shook her head. “It’s not that. I just…I don’t recognise the food.”
Ah, so they didn’t have bacon or pancakes in Oreylia. It really was a hell dimension. “It’s good, trust me, you’ll like it,” I said before slicing into a pancake and swirling it in some maple syrup. Carrabelle watched as I shoved it in my mouth and the barest smile edged her lips. She returned her attention to the food, picking up the knife and fork and copying what I’d just done. As soon as she took a bite she closed her eyes, like it was the best thing she’d tasted in forever.
“Told you you’d like it,” I grinned and poured her some orange juice from the jug Mum had set out.
We ate in quiet for a few minutes before Carrabelle whispered, “I’m so scared for them.”
I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. “Me, too.”