Chapter Eight
The Damson God didn’t visit me that night.
Dreams failed to take hold—I couldn’t sleep.
My shoulder was on fire, and the painkillers the nurse had prescribed didn’t seem to be hitting the mark.
As the hours trundled by, the pain intensified, engulfing my arm, my shoulder, my chest. I was frozen in agony, burning in an inferno of hell.
An ice pack helped numb the area enough to catch an hour of sleep, but when I woke, drenched in a mix of melted ice and sweat, nausea swamped me.
I tried to rest the following day, but regardless of the throbbing in my shoulder, my head was full of quandaries, concerned for Torz.
The steady trickle of anxiety pouring across our bond did nothing to soothe my own.
He was suffering, and I didn’t know how to help.
What could I do? The ordeal was between him and Governor Zuli… and Nikos Russo. And now Chaz—
Gods, I’d killed three of his men.
But what I couldn’t figure out was why Chaz’s men had involved themselves in an assassination attempt.
Yes, okay, they’d obviously heard about Zuli and her cabinet’s deplorable bigotry, but Chaz’s team were renowned for staying undercover, never allowing themselves to be at the forefront of political protest and a brewing rebellion.
Their aim was to bring aid to their people, not hinder it.
I peered at my comms: 14:19 hours. I could’ve sworn time was ticking backwards.
Consumed by a clash of despair, boredom, and unbearable pain, I clutched my shoulder, forcing myself from the couch, and headed to my bedroom.
Removing my pyjamas and re-dressing in my work uniform was exhausting.
And after taking another dose of painkillers—hoping they would take effect this time—I staggered out of my apartment.
I barely registered where my feet were taking me.
With every footstep, a torturous pang of stabbing fire afflicted my body, resonating from the depths of my damn shoulder wound.
By the time I turned towards the guarded doors of Delta Ring’s Command Centre, I was sweating, balling my fists, and breathing heavily through gritted teeth.
The guard took one glance at me, noted the black Argentum uniform and a familiar face, then opened the door. I was glad he saw nothing beyond that.
As I crossed the threshold, meeting the usual hubbub of voices filling the vast, circular room, I sucked in a huge intake of air, attempting to cease my panting breaths.
Gods, why am I so out of breath?
The doors hissed shut behind me, and I leaned back against the bulkhead as dizziness tried to drive me to my knees. But I continued to breathe deeply, denying my incapacitated body the chance to succumb to defeat.
Wiping the sweat beading at my temples, I glanced about the room.
Dozens of administrators, air-traffic controllers, and department heads busied themselves at their workstations, oblivious to my struggle.
Through the line of computer desks, Torz’s official office stood on the far side.
Its glass walls were set to clear; the blinds open.
And in his chair sat Marla Hyde with her fiery-red hair bouncing around her slender, silk shoulders. With a smile full of delightful tease, she looked up at Torz who stood beside her, offering her a handheld screen.
My heart convulsed at the sight, jarring with every feverish thud. It worsened when Torz laughed at something she said, his eyes creasing at the corners with genuine amusement. And the fierce flames in my shoulder were suddenly overshadowed by a frosty sting of…was that jealousy?
No. No. Stop it! I chastised myself. Torz was aiding Marla with her enquiries, nothing more. Zuli had ordered him to provide Marla with any information she needed, otherwise there would be condemning consequences. Clearly, he was monitoring what she accessed, personally…nothing more!
“Remi.” A hand waved vigorously in front of my face, and I flinched, sending another agonising flare through my left shoulder. Grimacing, I looked up and found Saul standing beside me, his dark eyebrows pinched together. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Saul. You really know how to make a girl feel good.”
“I’m being serious, Remi. You’re paler than a festering quamberry…and you’re sweating…a lot.”
I wiped my forehead with my jacket sleeve. Shit, my arm was shaking. And as the nausea crept upwards again, I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing through the urge to topple over.
Saul’s large hand softly cupped my good elbow, and I peered up at him, his brown gaze pressing solemnly into mine.
“Why are you here?” he asked gently. “You can’t possibly think you can work in this state.”
“I can’t relax, Saul. My shoulder fucking hurts.” Even talking was adding to the affliction.
“The nurse gave you pain meds—”
“They’re not working!”
“Then go and ask for better ones.”
I threw him a scolding glare. There wasn’t a chance in hell a medical professional would prescribe me stronger drugs, but Saul didn’t know that. Nobody knew that other than Torz…and my medical records.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to the med centre.” Saul repositioned my hand under his arm, then guided me out the door. I had no energy to argue. Perhaps someone at the med centre could do something to help—something other than prescribe drugs…hopefully.
Whilst my scrambled mind trifled through viable possibilities, and before the doors closed behind us, I glanced back to Torz’s office.
My commander was frowning in our direction, and as I met his gaze, Torz lifted his hand to gesture a wave, a look of worry etched across his face.
It left me wondering if he could sense my agony… or my jealousy.
* * *
The burly nurse threw me a pitiful look, twisting my stomach into knots. “I’m sorry, Ms Harthwaite, I can’t give you anything containing Q. Your records—”
“I know what my records say,” I said with far more venom than intended. The twenty minutes I’d waited to be seen had felt like an age, and it left me grouchy and beyond the point of sane composure. “I’ve been clean for five years!”
“Five years or thirty years; it makes no difference. Once an addict, reintroduction to Q of any strength causes ninety-nine-point-nine percent of re-abuse.”
Holding in a frustrated breath, I could’ve throttled Torz for—all those years ago—insisting my Q addiction was documented in my medical records.
Albeit confidential from prying, governmental eyes, it flashed up prominently on the medical professional’s screen every time I visited.
I wasn’t sure if the sympathetic nurses were worse than the scrutinising ones, but either way, I was always denied products containing the magical drug, no matter my condition.
And right now, I was drowning in liquid fire.
“I can offer you mild sleeping tablets to take with the painkillers you already have.” The nurse tapped at her handheld computer and swiped. My comms pinged a second later with the new prescription. “They’ll make you drowsy, so avoid operating machinery and weaponry.”
Drowsy or not, I doubted I could bear another day alone in my apartment.
“So, no help with healing then?” I gestured to my shoulder, failing to flatten my angry tone.
“Unfortunately not.” She smiled at me—fucking smiled, as if that would make everything better.
“You can take protein supplements, but make sure you increase your fluid intake. If the intense pain doesn’t subside in forty-eight hours, come back to see me.
But for now, you’ll have to grin and bear it. ”
Grin and bear it.
Biting my tongue, I held back the snarl threatening to break free.
I don’t think I even thanked her when I left. My mind was consumed with frustration and anger, mainly at myself for being an utter ass all those years ago, when I was suddenly void of love and crashing against the deepest, darkest rocks of depression.
I’d always hated being an only child who didn’t know her father.
I might as well have been an orphan when my mum died.
My sweet aunt had taken me in, but she wasn’t much older than I was, and Aunt Maddie certainly wasn’t my mum.
No one could’ve replaced her. Without her, I’d become lost—completely and hopelessly lost. She’d been my best friend, my guidance, my security, my happiness.
With her gone, I was no longer rooted—I still wasn’t.
I floated about like a lost star in a cluster of galaxies, and the only way I found reprieve from the grieving despair was to become numb.
It wasn’t my fault they put the magical, addictive drug harvested on Quoram in hundreds of prescribed medicines.
But its healing ability was phenomenal, its numbing sensation intoxicating.
If I’d been given a dose today, my shoulder would’ve been fully healed in a matter of days, and I would’ve slept like a log.
But my past stupidity left me grappling for respite from the immense pain.
Q had dictated my life for four years following my mum’s death.
It had been my saviour and my demon. I’d both loved and hated it.
But without it, I wasn’t sure I would’ve survived those long, lonely years.
Torz had disappeared from my life during that time.
It was only by chance I’d been transferred from Beta Ring security and fallen under Torz’s command.
It had been a miracle that he’d chosen to help me fight the addiction rather than condemn me for it. It still baffled me how he’d found out.
Lifting my glassy gaze to the metal door before me, I had no idea how long I’d been standing outside my apartment.
I couldn’t remember getting here. Somehow, I’d walked past the pharmacy a few intersections back.
I doubted mild sleeping tablets would’ve helped, anyway.
And if they did, I would be forced to spend more gruelling hours with the Damson God and his insistent questions.
After fumbling to open and close the door, I dragged my feet over to the couch and slumped face down into the cushions.
I need food.
I should try another ice pack.
I wish I’d just fall asleep. Maybe I should get those pills.
It didn’t matter what my brain told me to do—I laid there in a pain-induced paralysis, drowning further in my own self-pity and sorrow.