The ski tech hid a smirk with her palm when Freya and Dan returned their skis to the lodge. They were trying so hard to act normal, but they couldn’t pull it off. Unity thrummed. The bond had lasted so long they wondered if it would ever end.

She thinks we’re high, they realized. They battled to quell their laughter. If one of them slipped up and started to giggle, it would set the other off, and they wouldn’t be able to stop. The ski tech’s look had turned strange. They’d stood there too long, and they mumbled words of thanks and hurried away, unsure whose mouth had said what words.

At the center of the lodge was the wood burning stove, a black behemoth ringed by clusters of thawing skiers. Freya and Dan found space on the far side of the wood stove and huddled close together, extending their numb hands towards the heat. The room was crowded, but they barely noticed anyone, wound up in themselves.

The fight to keep from laughing sent their thoughts racing down the path of things that could trigger the other. There were so many ramifications of Unity. Coughing, yawning, posture, all the small things subtly transmitted between two people, now running on a circuit that had no resistance.

Oh, God. What about hiccups?

Freya couldn’t help giggling at that. Their eyes met, and they marveled at how bright and shining they were. They were in the spotlight; the rest of the stage was shadowed. US, the note sang between them. Dan put an arm around Freya’s shoulder, then they closed their eyes and basked in the feeling, humming with closeness and warmth.

When Freya and Dan looked out at the world again, they still grinned, but there was some perturbation in the room. The hair on the back of Freya’s neck rose, and Dan caught the feeling from her. They realized everyone stared at them.

A man in a red ski cap on the other side of the stove regarded them curiously, while a woman with flushed cheeks scoured them with a look of distaste. On a big plaid sofa, the two girls from the trail peered at them. One had her mouth open.

They know! Freya thought. She inhaled sharply, out of synch with Dan. A quaver ran through Unity, and Freya’s fear poured through a rift. In the distance, she heard Dan’s thoughts calling her back, but she was swept forward in a black swell of panic.

Alone now, she was ringed by a sea of unhappy eyes. Wherever she met them, heads drew back from her in cold distaste. There was a twinge in their faces as if a bad smell spread through the room. She wanted to run away, but she was surrounded, certain she would be caught. As if they could read her intent, the faces contorted in anger, lips curled, hands tightened into fists.

One by one, the strangers were orienting their bodies towards her, she felt the hate radiating from them, hotter than the stove. Theirs was no Unity. They were a mob, possessed of an instinctual sense there was an interloper in their midst.

Dan!

The call rang in her mind like an alarm bell but there was no answer. The mob rose from their seats, advancing on her with terrible purpose. She was taboo, a witch that could not be suffered. A scream built in her chest. She felt the first hand take hold of her, clamping down on her shoulder. They were about to tear her apart.

Freya!

It was Dan, gripping hard enough to hurt. He was in her mind, opposing the dark vision with all his willpower. When he forced the thought out of her head, there was a sudden dizziness, as if the pressure had dropped inside of her skull. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. It was like the moment after a terrible injury, knowing the pain was about to hit.

There was no angry mob surrounding them. Most people were studiously looking away. The few still staring had looks of concern. The whole thing had just been a cruel capriccio.

Unity was still alive. When he saw she regained control, Dan loosened his grip, feeling her pain as his own. When they reconnected, her vision seared into him, never to be forgotten. He had to take on Freya’s terror. She was afraid she was losing her mind, that she would drag him down with her.

Dan tried to pull her up. He was the strong one now. But even that had an edge. He had pulled her out of the nightmare but used a little too much force.

Freya struggle to reconcile her feelings. She’d been delivered, she’d been violated, and part of her whispered it was just easier to let him be in control, while another roared defiance at the very idea.

Breathe. It will pass.

Dan was subvocalizing, and she felt caution. He’d found this new strength, and at the same time discovered he could hurt her terribly by using it. Freya tried to breathe through the tightness in her chest. Awkward glances kept landing on them, the man in the red cap fidgeting with uncertainty as if he wanted to ask if she was all right.

Why were they staring at us? Freya wondered, drawing air through her teeth.

We were doing everything synchronized, Dan thought in reply. He showed her how they’d marched into the place in step like soldiers, extending their hands perfectly together at the stove like two sides of a mirror. They’d never said a word, but they wore their conversation on their faces. It was the kind of thing that caught eyes. No wonder they’d creeped everyone out.

We need to learn how to hide it, she thought, and when Dan nodded at her, it took an effort not to nod with him. She stared back at the man in the red ski hat, and he glanced away, finally realizing he was making her uncomfortable. Freya felt anger rising, and she clung to it. It was so much safer than the other options.

Let’s just go, Dan thought urgently. They made an effort to break stride as they headed for the door. When they felt the sunlight on their faces, they shared an urge to run for their lives, like they had slipped out of a trap.

They hurried through the glittering snow to the Toyota, no longer caring if their steps were linked. The engine gave a seizing whine when Dan turned the key, and they shared a spike of fear they would be stuck here.

Dan carried his anxiety about the Toyota like a stone in his stomach. Any time he thought of the car, the stone was there, whispering something might break he couldn’t afford to fix, or that the car would die altogether and leave him stranded.

He’d grown so used to it he didn’t even notice it was there until Freya focused on it. As they reflected, she was filled with a desire to free him. She wished she could just buy him a new car, all gleaming curves and an engine always started so he never had to worry about it again.

Dan was abashed by the thought. He hated any reminder he and his mother were poor. His eyes focused on the key in his hand as he pushed the thought away.

“Positive thoughts, please,” Dan said aloud, and she felt him trying to clear his mind of everything but the desire for the car to start. She heard the slight warble of his words phasing, Unity faltering. She joined her will to his for one last push.

START, they exhorted the car together. Dan cranked the ignition again, and Unity sputtered out just as the engine caught. The last thing they felt as one was a note of relief.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

It had been the longest Unity yet. As the car warmed up, they were quiet, getting used to being themselves again. For a few moments, Freya felt lost in her own head.

She couldn’t get that note of relief out of her head. Was Dan glad Unity had ended? She couldn’t blame him. She was falling apart, having paranoid hallucinations in the middle of the day. She thrust her hand into her pocket. The Starball was uncomfortably hot, but she held on anyway.

Freya sank into her seat, feeling the familiar despair of being severed. She turned to look at Dan, searching his face for reassurance, for any sign he felt the same. He stared out the windshield at the red barn where it all gone so wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Freya said, her voice was small and unsteady. “I freaked out and dragged you in.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I was overwriting you,” Dan said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You needed to. I was out of control, it’s not your fault.”

Dan nodded, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. She knew he had something to say but was afraid to say it. She shut her eyes and cried. Dan didn’t speak, he only set his hand over hers and let her cry it out. She was a snuffling mess. He handed her a tissue. She bobbed her head in thanks and blew her nose.

“I’m not upset with you at all,” he said. She stared at him blearily, wishing she could believe him.

“It was stronger today than before,” Dan said after a long pause. She nodded, urging him on. “It keeps getting stronger, lasting longer. If we keep going this way, I think it’s going to erase us. There won’t be a you or me anymore. We’ll be more. Something new.”

The words hung in the close air of the car as the heater roared. He chose his words as carefully as if he were stepping on rocks in the rapids. Something new not inhuman. More not monsters. She still felt the intensity of the vision, those awful eyes closing in on her. It was so far from the lofty thoughts they’d shared last night. Freya braced for impact, certain it was all about to come apart.

“It feels permanent. And I’m not sure of what happens if we get there. What if we’re United and can’t be together? I don’t even like to have you out of my sight. When we were apart on the trail I felt so left behind and alone. It was awful.”

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” Freya said. Why had she left him? It was such a selfish thing to do. She remembered how frustrated she’d been with him and felt unworthy.

“It’s not a big deal. I mean, you didn’t know Unity was about to happen. When it started, I had to get closer to you. I didn’t have a choice. Even right now, I can feel you aren’t there. It’s like I’m missing something vital. Not an arm or a leg, but like an organ, something I absolutely need to be alive.”

Freya was stunned by Dan’s words. She held his hand and stared into his eyes, feeling like she was rolling in the surf.

“What happens if we unite completely and one of us dies?” Dan asked.

“The other dies, too,” Freya said immediately.

They were stung by her sudden certainty. A tremor shot through Dan like she’d struck him, and she felt his hand twitch.

“Do you—” she sobbed mid-sentence, her eyes blurry with tears all over again. “Do you want out?”

“No!” Dan squeezed her hand intently. “This is the greatest, you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I never want to be apart from you. But how do we live like that? We have to go to different classes. I have to go to work. What about college? What are our parents going to say? Like, we can’t hide this from people forever. They’ll figure out something is happening. Everyone already thinks we’re acting weird.”

“I don’t know,” Freya said. They were exactly the questions she’d been pushing away, all the things she couldn’t answer. Two hundred miles away from home, holed up in the fancy hotel, there was still no escape. She gave him a pleading look, wishing she knew what to say.

Dan leaned over and kissed her. It wasn’t an answer, but it was something.

“Well, we have a long time to figure it out. Traffic is going to be horrible,” Dan said, rolling his head in the direction of the highway. Freya had let herself forget they had to go back, hoping when the time came it would be easier to face. But it wasn’t. Dan put the car in reverse and backed up.

“Let’s just stay,” Freya said, too quiet. She thought he hadn’t heard, but he was only concentrating.

“That would be amazing. Wish we didn’t have school,” Dan said. He thought she was only kidding. He slowly navigated through the parking lot, wary of skidding out.

“I’m serious. Let’s go back to the hotel for another night. It’ll be much easier to drive tomorrow. We can miss one day.”

The car coasted to a stop, and Dan turned from the wheel to look at her. He took her hand again and gave her an apologetic look.

“Freya, I can’t. My mom would flip out.”

“Just tell her the car won’t start,” Freya offered.

“I couldn’t do that. I never lie to her.”

“Never?” Freya squinted with disbelief. She didn’t know much about Dan’s relationship with his mother, Samantha, other than she’d never heard him say a bad word about her. It was a stark opposite to the way Freya talked about Lassa.

“Not since the thing with the pills. That was a Garbuglio suggestion. It’s actually way easier. In therapy, I found out she usually knew when I was lying anyway. I felt so shitty about it. I just level with her now, and she’s usually pretty cool.”

“I can’t even imagine that with Lassa,” Freya admitted. The forbidden thoughts of Unity with her mother slithered at the back of her mind, and she pushed them away. She hadn’t meant to get sidetracked like this.

Dan’s eyes tracked her with concern. He shrugged as if to say it wasn’t that important, but she felt the weight. She lied to her mother all the time. She’d frozen Lassa out, driven her away, and she wasn’t even that upset now that she was gone.

No wonder he’d rejected her.

Freya took her hand back from Dan. She turned away, looking out the window, and there was the little choked sound of something he wanted to say but couldn’t. It didn’t matter. Gravel and snow crunched beneath the tires, clouds closing overhead, stealing the sun. She’d gotten so close, but it was over now.

Freya felt colder already. The long drive was yawning before her like a crack in the earth. The Toyota would inch forward, just a segment in the long earthworm of brake lights, and the silence between them would grow wider with every lurch. There would be hours of sitting in this seat, yearning for Unity she didn’t deserve.

Her fingers and toes would throb as the heater labored in vain. When they finally got to her house, the lights would be on, Lassa’s car would be in the driveway, planted there like a gravestone on everything she wanted. Dan would abandon her there, pretending he wasn’t happy to be rid of her. Her hand slipped into her pocket.

Just turn me off, Freya willed the Starball. I can’t do this anymore.

They made it to the main road, and Dan pulled his phone out his pocket. He was saying something, but she’d sunken so deep the words rolled over top of her. She saw his finger was on his contacts.

“What?” Freya asked, trying to snap out of it.

“I’m going to call my mom and ask if we can stay, okay?”

She had an impulse to tell him not to bother. Of course, the answer was no. But he waited for her to respond, and she felt hope burning through the murk.

“Don’t ask,” Freya said, and his face was drawn with confusion. She stared at him, composing what she wanted to say next. It had to be exactly right.

“Before you call her. Do you really want to stay with me tonight?” Freya asked.

“I do,” Dan replied too quickly. Freya held up a palm to stop him and caught him with her eyes.

“If we go this way, we can’t come back from it,” Freya said, feeling that same immediate certainty she’d felt when she said if one of them died the other would follow. “It can’t be a coin flip of you asking your mom if it’s okay. It has to be your decision.”

Dan lowered the hand with the phone, and he opened his mouth, then decided not to say whatever he was thinking. He struggled to process it all. She felt a nauseous certainty she’d overplayed her hand and pushed him too far.

“You’re right. I should make my own choice,” Dan decided.

“We can talk about it more and figure things out,” Freya offered, aware as soon as she spoke it was too late to backtrack from her ultimatum. She’d forced Dan into a position where he might destroy her completely.

“I don’t need to,” Dan said. He tapped his phone, and Freya held her breath, hope singing in her chest.

Samantha Gregulus picked up after two rings. They exchanged greetings, and even with the heater drowning out the tinny sound from the phone’s speaker, Freya heard worry in her voice. She immediately launched into a string of questions about the roads and the car, wanting to know when he expected to arrive home.

“Hey, Ma, listen—” Dan had to fight to get a word in, “I’m not going to make it home tonight.”

Dan had been right about his mother’s reaction. She was furious. Freya held Dan’s free hand as he weathered the storm. This was all her fault, getting Dan in trouble, making his mother worry, but the guilt couldn’t touch her adulation.

She had been chosen.