Raven #2
A long while had passed since I’d last eaten, but still, my stomach roiled, threatening to expel what little I had left in my system.
I shoved my electric lantern into my pocket and called out for Aoes before I pushed the sliding shelf free of the hidden entrance. By the time I set foot in the pub’s storage space, Aoes shoved through the door and past supplies to get to me.
“What is it?” He reached out and grabbed my elbow, helped support me upright. “Where’s Winter?”
“He’s at the bottom of the stairs. He’s—”
My throat closed up. I didn’t want to admit to the fact that Winter had been afflicted…and it was my fault for dragging him down there.
I swallowed hard, attempting to wet my throat and mouth. “He needs help. We’ll need to carry him.”
Aoes’s eyes widened, and his face blanched. “By the gods. What happened?”
In the doorway behind him, Earl shuffled into view, his glossy stare swinging past me to the opening at my back and the stairs descending into the tunnel.
Without acknowledging his presence, I turned to climb back down the stairs.
I grabbed Aoes’s arm, dragging him with me. “Come on. You and I can carry him up to a room.”
We needed to get Winter into a bed and get someone to attend to him. I could rest after he healed. I made that promise to myself, even if my body fought the desire to collapse right here on the steps.
Aoes tightened his grip on my arm and hauled me to a stop.
I glowered at him. I needed to go, needed to get to Winter, and yet, in my exhaustion, Aoes’s hold easily delayed me.
He shook his head. “You’re in no shape to help carry anything, much less a man of Winter’s stature. Let us handle the lifting, and you take a breather.” He glanced over his shoulder to Earl. “Get us some discreet muscle, Earl.”
Earl’s head bobbed, and he disappeared into the pub.
“Come on.” With a gentle tug on my elbow, Aoes directed me to sit on one of the barrels shoved against the adjacent shelving.
Even though my inner drive pushed me to keep going for Winter’s sake, my body ached everywhere and wanted to rest, so I allowed him to steer me to a seat.
Grabbing an old, discarded mug someone had left in the room, he blew dust from its interior and filled it with honey ale from one of the nearby tapped barrels. Unashamed of how dirty or used the mug might have been, he offered me the drink.
“Did you drag him here all by yourself?” he asked.
I nodded and accepted the drink, my muscles shaking. I needed water, not ale, but I’d presently welcome any liquid.
“How far?”
How far had I dragged Winter?
I didn’t have a good response to that question. The distance had been far enough—more than far enough. But I hadn’t taken the time to measure the steps or the lengths of the tunnels.
I shrugged.
“Okay.” He peered at the open passage then back to me, giving me one sweeping gaze. “Far.”
Two large men poured in through the pub’s connecting door, Earl in tow.
“What’s up?” one of them asked.
“We have a fallen brother in need of assistance.” Aoes stepped toward the passage, motioning the men to follow. He glanced to Earl at the last moment. “Help Raven up to her room. She needs a wash, plenty of fluids, and rest.”
Earl nodded and shuffled toward me as the three men descended the stairs with mumbled conversation about hidden staircases and the many secrets Aoes kept.
I stood and trudged from the room with slow and labored movements, which matched well with Earl’s no-rush shuffle. By the time I reached my room, the men were carrying Winter down the hall to one of the unclaimed accommodations.
His skin looked whiter, less gray. Frosted, I realized with a slight startle. His elemental magic took claim of his body. Would it freeze his blood? Stop the flow within his arteries?
I turned and followed them down the hall.
“Raven, rest,” Earl mumbled at my back.
Aoes threw open a door and jabbed a point to the bed within, signaling the men where to go.
Then he peeled away from the group and turned his gaze firmly on me. “You need to rest. You look ready to drop.”
I moved to follow Winter into the room, and Aoes stepped into my path, raising his hands to stop my forward motion.
“I need to help him,” I protested.
“You’re no good to anyone in your current condition,” he countered.
A sigh dragged through my body and released through my nose. I was tired, yes, but…
“I just need to splash some water on my face, and I’ll be good.”
“I doubt a little water is all you need.” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me to face my room and the washroom at the end of the hall. “Rest. Wash up. One or both, but go take care of yourself. The healer has already been summoned and should be on his way.”
He shoved me forward, and my feet responded, dragging me three awkward steps. By the time I turned back around, Aoes had slipped into Winter’s room. He closed and locked the door, likely to deter me from following.
He didn’t believe I could help, even after his mild excitement—practically worship—over the healing I had bestowed upon that afflicted woman.
How, after that occurrence, could he doubt me?
Did I really look that bad? That weak? And why would he trust the care of his best friend to a healer, when a healer had done nothing to better Earl’s state? Or Aldine’s?
Aldine had only improved because of the Killian.
The Killian.
My eyes widened at the thought. I would summon the Killian and convince him to help Winter. Only I had no idea how to summon the Killian.
Maybe Aldine…
I knocked on his door. No light shone from the crack beneath, and no one answered. Still out searching for Chace.
“Bath,” Earl said from down the hall. He stood beside the open door to the washroom and gestured to the small space beyond. “Bath.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Earl.” I dragged myself into the open room and closed the door behind me.
Earl had filled the tub with water, set a few candles to burn, and imbued the small room with a pleasing lavender aroma.
An idea to summon the Killian started to bloom. I’d drown myself. I didn’t really want to die, or self-harm, but if I could bring myself close enough to death, maybe, just maybe, I could get him to show up, and then I could plead my case.
Could he even help a non-reaper? I’d find out soon. Hopefully.
Gripping the edge of the tub, I crouched and sucked in a deep breath.
You can do this, I told myself. It’s not that big of a deal.
Only it was. It was a huge deal.
“There’s no other way,” I murmured.
I wasn’t even sure I could drown. But maybe in my weakened state…
My skin still simmered with heat—and stink—from the tunnels and the exertion of dragging Winter.
I slipped my hands along the side of the tub, down into the water. Lukewarm liquid lapped at my sizzling skin―the sensation a glorious release. I wanted to step into the water, clothing and all.
But Winter, a tiny voice nagged at me.
The water around my hands churned and bubbled. Surely, what I saw was a figment of my imagination. In my current state―still healing and now exhausted―I wouldn’t survive boiling temperatures. It could possibly bring my death, and the Killian would come to collect my soul.
But that’s what I wanted, right? The Killian to make an appearance.
“Just do it,” I whispered to myself. “For Winter.”
I yanked the notebook discovered in the tunnel from my pocket, tossed it to a water-free zone, then plunged forward, dunking my head and shoulders into the filled tub.
Bubbles tantalized my skin, and boiling burbles filled my ears, leaching away any external sound. It calmed my burning flesh and maddened mind. I held my breath and waited.
For the Killian. For Death himself.
I waited. And wanted. Wanted for air. For life. Wanted to drag myself free of the water.
My body became frantic with the need. I fought against the desire to yank myself out and breathe the air deep into my lungs before I summoned the Killian or Death.
Before I could fold to a forfeiting desire, I slammed my head forward with all the strength I could muster, smacking hard against the tub floor. A throb sure to leave an ugly lump thundered through my skull. My vision blurred and blackened.
My fight vanished, and water slipped down my throat, bringing with it convulsions…and violent images of what was and what could still be.
Me, a death-seeking wraith, wild with crimson energy. The energies of life and death, of soul-summoning control. A reaper taking ownership of who and what I was.
My heart thrashed, and my body jolted.
Maybe I could have come into such power and become a strong reaper worthy of the family name. But that no longer mattered. I was drowning. Dying to save Winter, and it was all for nothing. The Killian had yet to show.
My body jolted again, choking on the unwanted water flooding my system.