Chapter 5 #3
Flinching, I nodded, trying to breathe through the agony, both inside and outside.
I never got that moment of complete serenity in the bits of sleep I had.
The screams and losses were always there, cracking more of my soul into pieces.
I couldn’t forget for a moment what had been lost last night.
So many deaths. Killian hung on my heart like cement.
A sob lodged between my ribs. It seemed impossible. Not him . . .
But loss came in all varieties, and one penetrated so deep, I stopped breathing every time my mind brushed over it. Him. The loss felt worse than death. I shoved the memory of him walking out of this room into a box I locked away.
Compartmentalized.
“Special smell or not, you are still our family, Fishy. You always have us.”
The lump grew in my throat, peering down at the sincere brown eyes gazing up at me.
“Right, Bitzy?” He looked at her, jerking his head toward me.
Bitzy rolled her huge eyes to the side, her mouth flattening.
“Riiiight?” Opie’s voice strained.
Chirp. Bored, she flung her middle fingers at me like a solemn teenager, making a true smile hint on my lips.
“Thank you,” I croaked.
“Just a warning, the food here is bad and dreadfully limited. I mean, they didn’t even have tea biscuits or extra sugar packets. What kind of place doesn’t have tea biscuits?” He threw his hands up. “Like we’re back in prison.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Snorting, I stood up. My head spun as my frame tipped. I grabbed onto the wall, my skull pounding harder.
“Think you need tea biscuits too, Fishy,” Opie added. I was extremely dehydrated and lacking nutrients, though the thought of food sounded revolting. Even the idea of taking a shower seemed too much. My body hurt, my heart cried, and my soul was screaming.
Inhaling deeply, I re-centered myself, limping as I made my way to the door. Pausing, I looked back at my friends, the question coming out before I even realized I had thought of it.
“Is it gone?” I whispered hoarsely. “My fishiness?”
Opie tipped his head, sorrow filling his eyes, understanding exactly what I was asking. He let out a heavy sigh.
My teeth crunched together, tears burning the back of my lids. I never realized I had this gift until it was gone, and now it was a void in my soul.
“For good?”
“I don’t know, Fishy.”
I knew he wouldn’t, but I felt desperate. Aching for someone to tell me it was going to be okay. That I would feel whole again. Not able to talk, I nodded my head and went out the door, needing to run, craving something—someone—and it sent me reeling in circles.
Duty first, Brex.
It was my only escape from the pain. Focus on action, doing something, and fighting. Because what was out there, barreling toward us, was a lot bigger than me.
It was between survival and death.
The main areas had quieted down and cleared out, though it still bustled with activity.
People were setting up the command room, taking supplies to and from the new clinic space, which was filled with the most people.
Healers were working mostly in the dark, with few beds and not enough supplies.
Small groups sat in a mess hall with a handful of tables and chairs and a single fold-out table holding limited food and drink.
The place hadn’t been ready to move into. The water hookup, wiring, and lighting still not fully functional in some areas. It seemed all those who were capable were trying to help get this place operational.
For our safety, the command/computer room was the first priority. It was where I found my uncle, helping Ling get her station up and running.
Neither one of them had changed or gotten a chance to clean up; they might not even have slept yet. I had no idea what time it was.
“Brexley.” Andris’s eyes softened at seeing me, though a flicker of worry twitched in his eye. “You’re hurt.”
Peering down at the various wounds decorating my frame, still oozing and stinging, they felt like a taunt to all that was lost. And what I no longer was.
“I’m fine.” My throat was thick. How blind I had been before, how easily I had healed, how confident I had been about my skills. Untouchable.
The fall was brutal and hard.
He stepped closer to me, hand touching my cheek, his thick brows meeting together.
“What?” I rasped.
“I don’t know. Something feels different.”
My chest surged, my jaw locking down. I couldn’t get my tongue to move, fear tangling my vocals.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, but when I drifted off . . .” Confusion pinned his mouth together. “I kept seeing you. Your eyes . . . And I would burst awake.” His subconscious knew and was trying to tell him about what he probably considered impossible, even for me.
I had been the one to save his life.
“We need to talk.” I swallowed.
He nodded, dropping his hand away from me and turning to Ling.
“Sweetheart, you good here? I’m gonna go talk with Brexley.”
Ling’s eyes went to me, watchful, insightful. From the day I met her in Halálház, I felt as if she could see right through me. The words she spoke to me there still rang true.
“Danger and violence want you. They hover around you. And you welcome them.”
Her gaze softened on him, and she gave a curt nod before going back to her workstation.
Andris showed me to his small office area. Nothing here besides a desk and two chairs.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to one, settling himself behind his desk. He leaned back, scouring at his face. He looked exhausted. He had bloodshot eyes and dark circles, but not one scratch donned his skin.
Not one.
The man had been crushed under cement.
I watched him with reverence, knowing he was my one good thing yesterday. If I hadn’t done what I had, I would not be looking at him now. I would be mourning his death. But the man I considered my uncle all my life, the last of my childhood family, sat across from me.
Alive.
I gripped that small gift with all my might, letting myself feel the joy for a second. A tear streamed down my face.
“Drágám.” My dear. He reached his hand out for me, and I laid mine in his. “Are you okay?”
“I still have you.” Another tear fell down my cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“You didn’t. I’m here.” He squeezed my fingers to reassure me, hiccupping another cry up my throat. “I’m fine, drágám. Besides being a little tired, surprisingly, I feel great. Maddox and Wesley keep telling me they swore I was dead, but I guess my time wasn’t up yet. I still have things to do.”
“Your time wasn’t up with me.” I extracted my hands from his, wiping at my cheeks and nose. “I wasn’t willing to let you go.”
“What do you mean?” He cocked his head, shifting in his seat like he could feel something in my tone. Something he already knew deep down.
“I found the nectar last night.”
Andris’s eyes went wide, his head jerking back. “What?”
“It’s been hidden up at the High Castle for a long time.”
“You found the nectar?” He lurched from his chair, not able to sit still, his mouth hanging open. “You sure?” My head nodded at his inquiry. “I mean, how? How has it not been discovered until now?”
“It was being guarded.” I paused, my eyes meeting his. “By a group of necromancers.”
“Necromancers?” Andris blinked at me in total shock.
“Yeah, but that’s not all.” I licked my lip. “The necromancers guarding the nectar,” the declaration rode up my tongue, the secret I was about to reveal humming in the air. “Are my mother and her clan.”
Andris went still. Not a breath or twitch. He stared at me, unresponsive. Aloof. Although, I could sense the turmoil of my statement erupting inside his mind, spilling and flipping as it soaked in.
A full thirty seconds passed before he breathed out. “Your mother?” He still didn’t move, shock locking him in place. “You must be mistaken. I met her briefly. She was full of life . . . human. No, it can’t be.”
“She kept the truth from dad. He never knew she was Wiccan. Her whole family—my family—are witches.”
“But—”
“She said necromancers weren’t a race, but a curse. The night of the fae war, she was there, on the battlefield.”
Andris’s head jerked again at the claim. He and my father had both been somewhere on the field that night too. And little did they know, not far from where they fought against the Seelie Queen, my mother was fighting for her and giving birth to me.
“The entire clan died that night and became necromancers.”
Andris’s eyes ping-ponged around while he started to pace. “I still don’t understand. You aren’t a necromancer.” He motioned to me.
“No.” I still didn’t know what I was—or what I had been. “But I might have some of their abilities.”
“Necromancers aren’t really alive. They don’t even talk or think like people do. They rob graves and reanimate skeletons. They feed on souls and are pitiless creatures.”
“No, they’re not!” I stood up, rage weaving through me. “They are people who used to have lives, who loved, and cared. They communicate through a link, one I used to have too.
“Brexley.” Andris said my name with concern and alarm. “They aren’t people anymore.”
“But they are now.”
Andris’s brow crunched again.
“You know how you saw me bring back Aggie?”
Andris’s chest clenched, his head moving slightly in acknowledgment, recalling Rita’s cat.
“I brought them back like her.” I swallowed, lifting my chin to him. “Just like I brought you back.”