The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

bolted his door and prepared to settle down by the fire. He had just thrown the blanket over his legs, when he heard the eerie shrieks in the distance.

“It’s starting,” Slaíne said from her position at the window.

Aidan didn’t respond, determined not to engage. But he could feel her gaze burning into the back of his head. With a shiver, he pulled the blanket farther up his neck.

“Sir, please. I know you’re not afraid….” She stomped across the creaking floorboards as calls were taken up and down the hall outside. “What makes you stay inside?”

Aidan glowered at the small blaze before him. “What makes you say that I’m not afraid?”

“Because you’re not a coward,” she said simply.

That made Aidan laugh. He rolled over and looked at her waifish figure standing over him, hands on her bony hips. “Being afraid has nothing to do with cowardice, and sometimes it is our inaction that shows just how brave we are.”

“Nonsense. You heard what everyone’s calling you.”

Aidan gave her a stern look. “Put no credence in others’ words.” He sat up a little and propped his head up with his hand. “Besides, what does it matter to you if I am a coward?” Aidan had meant the words playfully, but they were not taken that way.

There was a glint in Slaíne’s eyes, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was on the verge of tears. When she spoke, however, the girl’s voice was steady, if not pleased. “I know you think the Goblets are more important.”

“I do. We’d be wasting ourselves on a cause that has nothing to do with us.” Before she could interrupt, he continued in a rush. “Think about it, Slaíne. If any of the Goblets fall into Lord Dewhurst’s hands, or any wrong hands, for that matter, so much harm could be done. I, at least, don’t even know the full extent of what could happen.”

Slaíne was silent for a moment, the look on her face pensive. But soon she shook her head and replied, “Let’s stop pretending this is about the Goblets, eh?”

Aidan shifted his position, sitting up entirely. “If that’s not it, then what is it?”

“It’s you and your conscience.”

That brought Aidan up short. “What do you mean?” he said with an impatient sigh.

Footsteps thundered down the hall. Several someones banged on their door as they passed, and the wraiths continued to shriek in the near distance.

Slaíne did not speak at first. It was as if she were weighing her words with some care before committing them to the charged air. When she answered him, she spoke forcefully. “You blame yourself for everything. Maybe you’s not afraid of conflict, but you’s afraid of failing us.” Her face colored crimson up to her fiery hairline, but she jutted her jaw out at him, as if daring him to say she was wrong.

She was not. At least, not entirely wrong with her bold presumptions.

Aidan sighed heavily. “Slaíne, what would you have me say to that, hmm?”

The girl shrugged and seemed to deflate. Perhaps she wouldn’t pursue this any further than it should go. She opened her mouth and dispelled him of that hope. “What happened to your family?”

Aidan stiffened. “Don’t.”

Drawing her arms around herself, Slaíne continued. “You keep mutterin’ in your sleep. Something ’bout your fault…and Sam.”

“You really don’t want to go there.”

She laughed without humor. “I’m already there. Larkin says you think you killed ’em.” Her eyes were large and her voice was unsteady. “Let it go, sir. You can nay change the past.”

He made a movement toward her, uncertain what he really wished to do. This was neither the time nor the place. They had many things to think about, and his family – well, they were taboo, not to be talked of by someone, anyone in such a callous way.

“Move away from the window,” Aidan snapped.

The maddening girl, she threw the windows open and perched one foot on the window seat. The cries were no longer distant. It would be wise of them to blow out the light and pretend the room was vacant, lest they be bothered. The girl gave him a knowing look, but didn’t move.

“Away from there! They’ll see you!” Aidan grimaced as he threw the curtains closed. “This isn’t a game. You could die.”

Of all things, Slaíne laughed, and not for the first time was Aidan dubious of her sanity. “Pleasure knowin’ you, then.” And with that said, she leapt from the window and into the dark night.

“Slaine!” Aidan shouted. He could not hear her body hit the ground over the din of shouts and metal on metal, nor could he see her, not in the dimness. For a terrifying second, he thought of jumping out after her, but what good would it do for both of them to have shattered bones…or worse? With a shudder, Aidan tore from the room. He thundered down the stairs, all the while entertaining dark thoughts. Her Pull remained strong; was it that she lived, or would her corpse prove just as compelling?

Moments raced past like horses, and after battling through a barricade consisting entirely of apple crates, Aidan found himself crouching on the front stoop. He stilled his breathing for a moment, closed his eyes and felt for Pulls. The important, most pressing one was mere feet away. As he began to follow it, he realized that the Pull was slackening at an alarming rate.

The night was pitched into shrieks and black cries, and for all the good his eyes did him, he felt her seconds before she bowled him over.

“Oomph.”

“Shh!” she hissed, crawling off his prone form.

Aidan righted himself into a more dignified crouch, squinting in the night so that he might better observe her state. “How did you— Are you hurt?”

She repeated her previous request for silence, but broke it herself. “I don’t see nothing.”

The night flared into a bowl of crimson glow, a wreath of smoke kicking up in the breeze as the scent of burning wood assailed Aidan’s