Dance of Wings (Curse of the Guardians #7)

37. Scarlet

Chapter 37

Scarlet

S carlet grunted, dropping the knife as she tried to stop herself from falling against Lucifer’s chest. His hand slipped from her neck, falling to his side before he began to convulse, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His horns knocked against wood, the clacking sound rumbling around her.

“Shit!” The drift had opened up many of his wounds, his skin slick with both sweat and blood. A strange sulphuric scent filled her nose, but she didn’t have time to give it much thought as she used her entire weight to pin him down.

What looked to be furs surrounded them, her knees pressed into the soft pelts each side of his hips.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she chanted, placing her hands on his chest with as much pressure as she could. Blood spurted between her fingers, the wound widening as he shuddered violently. Closing her eyes she concentrated on his heart, realising he was missing almost four pints of blood, his body weakening beneath the strain. Her fingertips tingled, her mind racing as she forced him to create new blood cells at a far faster rate. It was draining, and only when Lucifer calmed did she allow herself to really breathe.

“What the fuck?”

Scarlet jerked her head to the right, finding a tall man standing there. His red eyes snapped to Lucifer, then back to her in quick succession. His hair was thick, a dark brown that was long enough to brush his brows. A heavy band was tattooed around his throat, the same design on both of his wrists.

Grabbing the knife she’d dropped, she pointed it towards the stranger.

He blinked, red irises turning green. “Erm, hello?”

Her grip tightened on the knife, her arm shaking from exertion. “Who are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that?” His eyes settled on her. “I’m Kyle. Is there a reason you’re currently straddling a naked Lucifer?”

Kyle was definitely dangerous, despite his calm demeanour. His whole attitude seemed fake. It was too cool, too relaxed compared to the intelligence darkening his eyes. She was under no illusion he could hurt her if he wanted to.

So why didn’t he?

“Was he attacked?” he prompted when she remained silent. “It may explain why he subconsciously drifted here.”

Scarlet held her body protectively over Lucifer’s. “Where exactly is here?” she asked, glancing at the candles that were the only source of light. They looked black, but the wax once melted was a bright red. The far wall was covered in shelves, handmade if she went by the strange design. Each held an array of trinkets, jars, pearlescent bottles, books and scrolls.

“This is Hell.” Kyle stood inside a hole in the stone that separated the two rooms, his toe touching a pentagram that had been carved into the floor. “Specifically Lucifer’s corner of it.”

“Hell?” Scarlet began to laugh, the sound stopping short at Kyle’s expression. “Seriously?”

Kyle nodded, holding out his palms to show he was unarmed. It didn’t make her feel any more comfortable. “I can get you out, but Lucifer will need to recover before he goes through another drift.”

“You want me to just leave him?”

A large bell chimed, a single dong vibrated the room.

“You have about five minutes to decide before the realm’s shut down, and we’re all stuck here until it’s reset.” Kyle frowned, impatience making his tone short. “He won’t be left alone, I’ll come straight back and stay with him overnight.”

“I’m not leaving here without him.” And I’m definitely not leaving him with you, she mentally added.

Kyle took a step forward, and Scarlet tensed. “You want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can help.”

“Trust me, I’m feeling a little stabby right now. You don’t want to come any closer.” Her voice was calm, adrenaline pushing through her exhaustion.

“Okay, point made.” Kyle remained where he was. “What happened?”

“He was almost killed.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than whatever happened to kill Lucifer. The bastard’s as stubborn as they come.” His eyes dipped to the knife, lips pursed. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous he can be. There’s a reason other Daemons are terrified of him. Of what he could become.”

“I’m not leaving him, and seriously if you don’t back the fuck up your balls are going to be removed from your body.”

Kyle paused, brows coming together to study her. “Then you’ll need to strap him up before he wakes.” He nodded to the headboard, which was made from twisted wood and metal. “It may take him a minute to remember where he is, strapping him down is the only way he doesn’t immediately attack you.”

Disappearing through the hole in the stone, he reappeared seconds later holding some thickened pieces of leather.

“This is all there is. It won’t hold him for long, so make sure to double knot them. You’ll need those extra seconds for him to calm down.” He carefully tossed them to her, cautiously staying out of reach. “Look, I’ll go to the surface and let the Guardians know where he is. You don’t need to trust me, but you do need to decide right now. You can either stay with him, or I can take you with me.”

“I’m staying.” There was no hesitation, not when he was so vulnerable. She’d already failed him once, the least she could do was make sure he made it through the night.

Kyle looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting to Lucifer then back again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a nod he disappeared, and Scarlet finally released the knife. It clattered to the floor, the sound loud against the silence.

Lucifer grunted, face screwed up in pain. Reaching over she brushed the hair from his forehead, stroking her fingertips as gently as possible along his cheekbones.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, watching how he immediately relaxed.

His chest was still a mess, but at least the skin was attempting to heal before her eyes. He would survive, she’d make sure of it. Content he was okay for the moment she slipped off the bed, taking a moment to take everything in. She was surrounded by stone, the room askew as if the space had literally been hand-carved from the side of a mountain. The flames of the candles crackled, dancing shadows across the scratched walls. She touched a groove, finding thousands of the thin, even lines.

The rush of killing Kit was finally waning, leaving behind a suffocating guilt. He may be dead, but she would never be able to help her brother.

Lungs tight, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She would shed no more tears, at least not tonight.

“I don’t suppose these are your smut books?” she asked, hoping her voice soothed him. “Or are you going to make me count these grooves all night?”

Wandering over to the unsteady looking shelves, Scarlet picked up the first book that seemed haphazardly thrown on top. The cover was bound in leather and stitched together with thickened thread. The word ‘anima’ had been scratched to the surface, and as Scar opened it up to view the first page... the book screamed.

It jumped from her hands, landing page down on the floor with a thwack. The book continued to scream, more voices joining in with the first until she could hear eight distinctive cries. Scrambling to grab it she quickly snapped it closed, her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

The shrieks didn’t seem to affect Lucifer, who was lying exactly where she’d left him. If it wasn’t for the subtle movement of his chest, she’d have thought he was dead. Deciding she didn’t want to risk looking inside any of the various bottles, she carefully put the terrifying book back exactly where she found it.

“I’ll be back, okay?” she said, knowing it was unlikely he could hear her, but said it aloud anyway. Waiting just in case he responded, she stepped through the hole in the stone to find a crudely made kitchen.

Crooked cabinets, stone counters and a makeshift table with two chairs. A box of cereal was left open on the surface, and she suspected that was what Kyle had been eating before she’d interrupted. Food was found to be inside the cupboards, dried meats and fruits, more boxes of cereal and other long-life products. There was even a cupboard full of mis-matched cutlery and crockery.

A pipe hung over a stone bowl, and turning the little spindle, water wheezed out of it. She hadn’t found any other source of water, so cupping her hands she brought it to her lips, only to cough and splutter. It tasted like the air, which was so dry it was uncomfortable. Wrinkling her nose she washed her hands instead, thankful they were no longer covered in blood. The smears on her chest were next, the medical gown beyond help. If the fabric was white before, it wasn’t now. Pulling it off, she scrunched it up and used it to wash the rest of her body, and then her hair. The water was cold, but she didn’t care when she was built to fly at altitudes below freezing. It made her uncomfortable, her skin protesting the temperature. But at least she wouldn’t become sick from it.

Leaving the sodden fabric in the sink she found another hole in the stone, a smaller, rectangular bed and furs pinned snuggly in the small space. A pile of clothes were at the foot, and bending down she grabbed several large T-shirts.

A thick, chunky silver hand mirror fell from between the fabrics. “Shit,” she cursed, quickly picking it up to check whether it was damaged. The glass shimmered, almost pearlescent across the surface. Silas’s image appeared from the shoulders up, frowning at his surroundings.

She immediately knew he wasn’t lucid, his expression confused when he spotted her. Raising his hand to wave he groaned, his fingers tentatively touching his jaw.

“Don’t speak,” she said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “You’re okay.”

His frown deepened, and panic began to darken his eye.

“Hey, look at me!” She tapped the glass, drawing his attention back to her. “I love you, okay?” His brows drew together, and with a detached nod of his head she placed the mirror face down on the bed.

There was nothing she could do when he didn’t remember, and even if she took the time to explain there was a chance it would only distress him further.

Wanting to put space between herself and the mirror she stepped back into the kitchen, only to pause at a slight scratching sound. It scraped against the walls, followed by a distant howl that had her cursing beneath her breath.

Kyle hadn’t warned her of anything… well, other than Lucifer. There were no windows within the stone, and deciding not to peek behind the large wooden panel that looked to be a door, she returned quickly to Lucifer and grabbed the knife. She held it for the moment, the weight a comfort as she strained her ears.

The scratching had stopped, as had the howls.

There was nothing more other than the crackling of the candles, and the rattle of Lucifer’s lungs.

“I’m losing my mind,” she told him, wishing he would respond.

Waiting a second more to see whether the howling continued, she began slicing one of the T-shirts down the back, almost to the hem. It allowed her to slip it on, giving space for her wings and also covering her modesty as much as she could. The rest of the clothes she quickly cut into strips, hoping Kyle wasn’t particularly attached to any of them.

Unable to relax, she placed the knife and pile of makeshift bandages on the bed in close range, pulling the chair over to the edge before reaching for the first bandage.

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to die.”