Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Even at seventeen, there was still comfort in curling up in the center of her mom’s bed, wrapped in one of her towels.
The floral scent of her perfume clung to the fabric as it enveloped Lia, water dripping from her curls.
It was a familiar scene of years past, though no one said it—Lia instead of Marcus trembling on the bed from night terrors.
But these weren’t phantom wounds. These were real.
Minute, pink streams ran down the swell of her thigh, staining the gray terrycloth underneath. Better than the scarlet rivers that had roared down the drain. Lia traced the indents burrowed into her palm where she’d bitten down to stop herself from screaming. Marcus didn’t need to hear that again.
She pinched them anew as her mom doused the divots in her thigh with alcohol.
Lia didn’t even whimper. Granted, she had done it to herself twice already before her mom had rushed in, a maternal hurricane tempered only by the medical situation at hand.
With no questions asked, she’d dove right into action.
Into mending. Lia hadn’t resisted being ushered away from her destroyed bedroom down to where their mom slept.
Now, Mom dabbed at the gouges with a gauze pad. The nightmare’s teeth were larger than the gremlin’s had been, but shallow enough that butterfly bandages were enough to pull the gashes closed.
An uneasy Marcus hovered in the doorway, grocery bag in hand already half-filled with soiled supplies.
The joke on how at least they didn’t need another bag of fluids in the living room hung on Lia’s tongue, but exhaustion held it.
Weariness darkened soft circles beneath their mom’s eyes.
Lia was certain she had some of her own.
As her mom had taken inventory of the nicks and scratches, the bite wound in her thigh, the soreness of her back that would bruise by morning, Lia spoke softly of the nightmare. The snow-quiet forest. The horrid song. The creature that sang it. The fight Lia mustered.
The mistake she made. The pen-less Transcription.
It was the gremlin all over again. Except now Lia knew she wasn’t losing her mind. Now, it was much worse.
Only when finished wrapping the gauze around her leg did her mom sit back to regard her and speak. “This creature. Did it say anything to you?”
Lia stared at the comforter. Her mouth was cotton, her throat sand.
Never would she forget that voice. She swore she could hear it even now, as the wind whistled against the windowpane.
“It mentioned Malum,” she whispered, voice cracking.
She cleared her throat. “It kept referring to him as its father. That he was active, somewhere. That he would destroy the barriers and release the Emperium’s power so people could create here. ”
Mom balled her hand into a fist. “Those foolish Seekers want power, so what makes them think the Devourer wants more than utter destruction?”
“What if he doesn’t?” Marcus blurted out, joining them on the bed as they stared dumbly at him.
“If the barriers are destroyed, Seekers would be able to do whatever they wanted in reality. But they wouldn’t release the biggest bad of the multiverse if he was going to end everything.
It’s counterproductive. Malum wouldn’t simply devour everything; he’d remake it into what they want.
They could enslave humanity, and Malum would consume anyone or anything that stood in their way. ”
“How does that make sense?” Mom inquired. “That’s not what the legend says. He wants to consume all, destroy it.”
“That’s just it. ‘The legend says’. But what if what the Order has been telling the Flamehearts for centuries isn’t the full truth? Maybe it’s the victor’s version.”
Lia had promised to tell her brother all she knew. But now he was putting the pieces together faster than her.
“Why would he only want to destroy everything?” he repeated, looking at both of them expectantly. “Why would the Seekers want to free Malum only to watch him destroy everything, including them? Does that really make sense?”
It wasn’t the apprehensive ramble like when Marcus had first heard the Devourer’s name. It was cold clarity, a list of facts. A resignation beyond his years.
Every villain needs a sympathetic motive.
Lia’s jaw slackened. Papa’s knowing smile emerged on Marcus’s face as he watched the realization dawn. She thought back to the imagination story. What if it wasn’t only to let her know about her identity and the weakening barriers?
What if it was a clue about why Malum had done this in the first place?
Their mom reached out to smooth Marcus’s hair. “I see your point. But regardless of the whys, what matters is that it’s happening. And that creatures like Lia’s nightmare are only a glimpse at what would ruin this world if the barriers fall.”
A chill ran down Lia’s spine. She hated how there was no hiding from this. Hated the blood staining another one of Mom’s towels. Hated not being in control.
“I’m sorry.” The words squeezed out, her voice cracking once more.
Mom and Marcus frowned, their mom speaking first. “Whatever for?”
Disappointing you. Worrying you. Causing you to miss work on top of everything else we’re dealing with. Having abilities no other Flameheart has—ones that put a target on my back.
But Lia didn’t say any of those things. She shrugged, looking down at the bandage. She pulled the hem of her cotton shorts to cover it. “I didn’t mean to bring that thing here.”
Her mom’s face softened, and she reached for her arm. “You didn’t learn to ride a bike in a day, or drive a car. This ability you have, it’ll take time to master.” Tension chiseled new creases in her brow. “But time is not a luxury we have. Not anymore.”
Lia closed her eyes. Failure was nearly as suffocating as grief.
Because even though she’d held her own against that hellish creation, it ended in burdening those she loved. Something she pushed herself never to do. Despite the triumph, that failure had become a familiar, loathsome aftertaste burning the back of her mouth.
“It also mentioned the hunter is coming.” Lia recalled before opening her eyes. “Is that another name for Malum?”
Mom stiffened, the blood draining from her face. Silence filled the room for a moment before she finally spoke. “You need to train your mind, Lia,” she implored. “More than pen exercises.”
“What do you mean?” Lia sat straighter, anxiety the puppeteer to her strings.
Their mom stood, packing the first aid kit and collecting the bloodied rags. She didn’t speak, taking the trash bag from Marcus.
“Mom?” Lia’s heart pounded as she watched.
She hated the withdrawn silence, seeing Mom tunnel within herself as she no doubt worked through several thoughts simultaneously.
Leaving Lia and Marcus on the outside, with no chance of peering within.
Was it as tumultuous as the seas that raged in Lia, the squalls she was desperate to quell?
Finally, their mom stopped and turned to Lia.
“I’m sorry. I just—” She hesitated and took a deep breath.
“This is so much bigger than you realize. It seems you can access spheres that don’t belong to you when you sleep.
Even bring things back to the waking world.
You need to learn how to discipline your mind—before you find yourself in a situation you cannot escape from.
” She paused, taking Lia’s face in her hands.
“You have done so well with this. No one’s mad at you.
But I can’t bear the thought of something else coming here and hurting you. ”
Lia frowned, unable to reign in the sarcastic bite to her tone. “What’s bigger than I realize? Nightmares roaming the earth seems pretty big.”
Dropping her hands, their mom stared out the window. “There’s more I have to tell you. It’s important, but it can wait until you’ve mastered this gift.”
Irritation broke through the fog that fear and failure had clouded in Lia’s mind. Again with the secrets. She was already keeping this gift a secret from the Order. There was no control left in her to be quiet and accept this. “Just tell me—”
“Not yet!” The words were a bite into Lia’s resolve, her mom’s tone a slap that left her spinning. And in her mom’s eyes, a rawness Lia had never seen. They stared at each other, everything left spoken and unspoken to hang in the air.
And Lia saw. They were all fraying at the seams.
Lia pulled at her fingers, picking at the thin skin of her pinky. Her mom’s hands fisted, relaxed, fisted, relaxed…
And it was Lia who broke the fraught silence first, Marcus’s presence nearly pulling the air from her lungs. She nodded, looking away from her mom. She’d listen. She’d train her mind. She’d make it safe for them.
And her mom would tell her everything.
“Soon?” she managed.
“Soon,” came the whispered reply.
Shoulders bowing, their mom tossed the medical debris to the top of her dresser. She motioned for all of them to climb beneath the covers. Despite everything, it was the familiarity Lia needed to find comfort.
Their mom’s copper hair slipped free of its clip as she reached for the lamp. “The Devourer is where he belongs. It’s the Order’s duty to ensure of that.”
The reassurance was soft, as if their mom didn’t quite believe it; said it for the comfort of the room, though no goodnight murmuring could make it so. And from what Lia had seen of the Order, the legend they maintained, she struggled to have confidence in them also.
As their mom turned off the light, the crystal nib of her pen shone dully on the sheets.