A Beautiful Dark

someplace darker.

Chapter 12

    S omeone was saying my name. It sounded beautiful, like a song from somewhere otherworldly.
    Had I died? Was I in heaven?
    Was I someplace . . . else?
    “Skye!”
    My eyes shot open.
    I was in a cave of some kind. As I sat up, slowly, with one hand out to steady myself, my surroundings came into focus. Wherever I was, it was dark, but a pale light shone through the seemingly translucent walls. Was I trapped under the snow? The walls around me shimmered and swayed slightly. What I was sure of, though, was the excruciating cold. The snow had soaked completely through the rip in my Gore-Tex gloves and through the fleece I wore underneath them.
    Crouched on his knees in front of me was Asher.
    “What are you doing here?” I forced out, my voice thick. My tongue felt like some kind of foreign object in my mouth.
    “You’re awake!” He exhaled loudly, and relief shone in his eyes. He put his hand on my arm. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
    “My head . . .” I began, trying to cut through the fog pressing down on my brain. I realized that my ankle was throbbing in pain. “And my ankle. It’s twisted or broken or something.”
    Asher furrowed his eyebrows, glancing down at it.
    “Where are we?” I asked.
    “I think we fell into some sort of snow cave.” Snow surrounded us, but we sat safely in the makeshift shelter.
    “How did you . . . ?”
    “I saw you falling, but I couldn’t reach you in time. You disappeared into the snow, so I jumped in after you.” Asher was feeling around my ankle with his hands. I winced, and he saw me. His face fell. “Sorry. I can’t . . .” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to fix it, Skye. I called for help while you were out.” His eyes flicked upward, presumably toward the outside world. I wondered what kind of cell reception we had down here. It’s not like I could climb out with a maybe-broken ankle. “I didn’t want to leave you here, alone,” he said, not meeting my eyes as he packed snow around my foot.
    “It was weird.” I took a breath, grimacing as he steadied my ankle. “I was feeling this rush of power as I passed you. And it’s like—it’s almost as if the snow and ice started crumbling because of it. Because of how I felt. And then the more I started to panic, the more helpless I was . . . the harder it came.” I glanced up, afraid to meet his eyes. He was staring at me. Not in disbelief, exactly. More like he was contemplating something impossible. I hoped my eyes weren’t silver. I looked away. “It sounds crazy, I know.”
    He didn’t say anything, and in the icy silence of the cave, I shivered. My fingers were beyond numb—they burned.
    “Are you cold?” Asher asked quietly.
    “Freezing.” I took off one Gore-Tex glove and poked a finger through the hole. Then I took off my fleece glove and held it up with a sad smile; it flopped over, soaking wet.
    “Here.” He unzipped his black parka and wrapped it around me. I could feel the heat from his body still trapped inside as I drew it closer. It smelled earthy and warm.
    “No,” I protested weakly. “You need it.”
    “I naturally run hot,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be fine. How about you? Better?”
    “Mmm. Thanks.” I drew my hands inside the sleeves. He was looking at me strangely.
    “If I show you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”
    “Are you going to keep me entertained until we get rescued?”
    “Something like that, but you have to promise.”
    “Promise. Anything to distract me from the possibility of us dying.”
    “You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”
    He sounded so certain, I could almost believe him. But I also wondered how anyone would ever find us before we became human popsicles.
    He moved around so that he was sitting behind me. I could feel his chest against my back, his breath trace across my neck. I tried in vain to keep my own breathing steady, but the combination of the pain, the cold, and being so close to Asher made it come unevenly, shallow.
    Asher reached both arms around me. “Take your hands out of the sleeves,” he murmured. I did, slowly—and he took both of my hands in his and brought them in close. He cupped them together, our palms facing upward. “Okay,” he whispered into my hair. “Don’t freak out.”
    I stared at our hands, resting on top of each other. How could I possibly feel more freaked out than I already was?
    And then.
    A