Chapter 20 The Present
“What the fuck do you mean that half-existent bitch is coming for Cassian’s mother?” Talon flails his hands as he gathers the daggers from the floor.
“Talon…” I say, my heart pounding. “I meant exactly what I said. She’s coming for her.”
I turn to look at Cassian.
His fists are clenched, sweat trailing down his forehead.
He doesn’t look good.
And I can’t fucking blame him.
This man has been teetering on the edge for years. Grieving, blaming himself, never truly free since his sister died. Even if he hasn’t been close to his mother, the care he has for her is carved into him. Guilt couldn’t erase it.
“Yeah, alright,” Talon mutters, picking up the last dagger and running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look much better. He’s been slammed into the wall by the wraith twice in the last twenty minutes.
“But since when can a wraith hunt the living? What the fuck changed?” he asks, his tone sharpening. “She’s supposed to be stuck in limbo, between realms. She’s not supposed to touch regular humans.”
“No shit,” I snap. I walk over to the teenager, who looks just as wrecked, and extend a hand. For whatever reason, I can actually touch him when he takes it. I help him up and turn back to Talon.
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you three started locking the souls of twisted people inside forgotten Skystones. I didn’t even know that was possible. Turns out they can get trapped, and if they’re malicious enough, escape. Turn into a wraith. Hunt the living.”
I stare at him.
He doesn’t have a comeback.
“We need to go,” I say. “Now.”
He hesitates for just a second, then bolts to the cabinets, grabbing supplies at a ridiculous speed, cursing under his breath.
Meanwhile, my brain is racing through our options.
Getting in a car and driving to wherever Cassian’s mother lives feels like a terrible idea. It would take too long. Someone would have to drive. We’d be exposed. Being on the move is risky, just like last time. And last time ended in a crash, with Cassian nearly dying.
We need to teleport, if that’s even still possible.
Maybe I can manage that weird supercharged shumpo again, the one I pulled off during the wraith fight. But I don’t feel like I did then. There’s a gaping wound in my abdomen, and I don’t even know how I’m still on my feet.
But saving Cassian’s mother…
I have to do it.
One look at Cassian’s eyes is all it takes.
“Alright,” I say, clearing my throat. “I think we should—”
Before I can explain, the teenager cuts in.
“You can’t use that much power,” he says. “Don’t even think about it.”
My mouth falls open.
“What… how did you…?”
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he says quickly. “I’m telling you, you can’t do it. Do you understand?”
His eyebrows are drawn together. He looks weak, even paler than before. His eyes lock with mine, and before he speaks again, I already know what he’s going to say.
“If you use that much power just to teleport, there won’t be anything left in you to fight her.”
And somehow, I know he’s right. Deep down, in the marrow of me, I can feel it.
I freeze. Mid-step, mid-thought, mid-plan.
What other options do we even have?
“Fight her?” Nathaniel cuts in. There’s a scowl on his face, too. “Skye’s barely holding on. She’s not in any shape to fight again. I say we retreat and figure this out later.”
“Later?” I repeat. “This is Cassian’s mother’s life we’re talking about.”
“And I’d say it’s your life too,” he snaps. “And probably more lives, if this goes wrong.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I had her. I almost finished her. I…”
I try to say more. I try to make them understand how close I was. That if I did it once, I can do it again. And now is the time, while the wraith is still weakened.
But I can’t.
The strength drains from me. My vision blurs and darkens. Before I realize it, I’m collapsing. The pain in my abdomen flares, drowning out everything else.
“Skye!” someone shouts. Maybe more than one voice. I can’t tell.
Then I’m being cradled on the floor.
“Fuck,” someone says. “What should we do? Same as last time?”
“No,” another answers. Nathaniel, I think. “This isn’t metaphysical. She’s bleeding.”
Chaos. Worry. That’s what I hear in their voices.
And somewhere, in that soul-threaded place I could use to reach Cassian, I feel more now. All three of them, trembling for me. Fear and urgency wrapped tight around me.
Then, something else. A fourth presence steps in.
The kid.
“Let me through,” he says. “I need to touch her.”
“What are you going to do?” someone asks. The distrust is obvious. Cassian? No, still Nathaniel, I think.
“I’m going to help her. Move the fuck away.”
Silence follows. Just for a moment. Then, a few agonizing seconds later, the pain in my stomach begins to fade. It retreats slowly, like balm being rubbed into a wound, until it’s nearly gone.
My vision returns. Sounds sharpen. I can feel again.
“How the fuck…” someone mutters. I open my eyes and see Talon, holding his head, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at my stomach. I follow his gaze and see the boy’s hands glowing with silvery-blue light, the wound on my abdomen vanishing beneath them.
“This... you...” I manage.
I’ve never seen anything like it. And yeah, I should probably stop saying that, but it’s true. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, the world proves me wrong.
The glow from the boy’s hands flickers out as he pulls back. My skin is sealed. The blood is gone. The pain is just an echo now, more memory than sensation.
I inhale, sharp, grateful, and try to sit up.
“Easy,” Nathaniel says, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t push it.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and it’s not really a lie. My body feels like it was stitched back together with a rusty needle, but stitched regardless. “We’re wasting time.”
The boy slumps slightly, pulling away. That glow, whatever it was, clearly drained him. His cheeks are even more hollow now, dark shadows blooming under his eyes.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
He nods once. “Doesn’t matter. Just don’t waste it.”
I nod back. We’ll talk later, him and I. There is a lot we should discuss. But right now, time is slipping through our fingers. Talking will have to wait.
Talon is pacing, muttering curses as he grabs weapons and buckles on holsters again. Cassian hasn’t moved.
“Cassian?” I push myself upright again, ignoring the dizziness that tries to drag me back down. “Say something.”
He blinks. Once. Then again. And whatever he saw in his mind, it burns away.
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
Isn’t it obvious? I want to save his mother. Doesn’t he?
But from the look in his eyes, it’s not so clear. For some reason, he’s letting me decide.
“I want to fight,” I say.
Talon freezes mid-step like someone hit pause. Nathaniel doesn’t speak. Silence settles over us, broken only by the boy’s shaky inhale and the hum of the hospital light overhead. Then something shifts. Talon swears under his breath and slams a dagger into his boot with more force than necessary.
“I don’t know what Skye thinks she’s about to pull off, but not everything can be handled with magic. We’ve got legs. We’ve got weapons. And we’ve got more rage than even Death can deal with.”
He stands tall, every line of his body tight, his energy sharp and volatile.
“We won’t make it in time,” I say, cutting through his frustration with my own. “If she’s already moving toward Cassian’s mother, then the chances are—”
“I don’t give a damn about the chances,” he snaps. “Let’s go.”
Cassian’s nostrils flare. He exhales sharply and springs into action.
“Skye and I will take the bike,” he growls. “You two take the car. I can cut the travel time in half if we skip the freeway.”
“You’re not going in alone,” Nathaniel starts, but Cassian doesn’t let the thought breathe.
“Our best shot is getting Skye there as fast as possible. The bike’s our only real option.”
There’s no room to argue with that tone.
Talon exhales. “Alright, Rambo. We’ll push the gas. Turn on your ping so we can track you.”
Cassian pulls a small GPS locator from his pocket, switches it on, and nods.
“Let’s go,” Talon says.
A breath later, we’re already moving.
We burst out of the hospital like we’re on fire. The moment we hit the outside air, damp wind cuts against the sweat on my skin. Cassian veers left, glancing over his shoulder to check if I’m keeping up. He’s fast, and I’m tired, though I’m not sure I’m more tired than him.
Blood is seeping through his clothes from his wounds. Yet he moves like he doesn’t feel a thing.
As I catch up, he stops abruptly and catches me off guard. One arm hooks under my knees, the other around my ribs. Before I can react, he’s picked me up and started running again, carrying me like a bride.
“What—what are you doing?” I gasp, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
“Saving time.”
“I can run, you know.”
“You’re slow,” he snaps. “And I don’t want you passing out halfway there. I don’t know what that kid did to you, but it didn’t look strong.”
My body still hurts. Walking hurts more. But still...
“I wouldn’t faint—” I start.
“Skye,” he cuts in, voice low and sharp. “Don’t argue with me. Not now.”
And just like that, I stop. Because this awful, stabby, soul-fractured serial killer suddenly just looks like a man.A very stressed, bleeding man who is about to try and save his mother, a woman I didn’t even know existed until, like, a moment ago.
What am I supposed to do with that?
If a monster shows you the cracks of something soft and pretty underneath, something warm and tired and weirdly noble; how the hell are you supposed to keep pretending it’s just a monster?