Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
I blink slowly, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. And then, I blink again, afraid I'm seeing wrong.
A giant of a man is with his back to me, dressed in an all-black ensemble and wielding a marble-white sword as he faces the demon. But that's just the first startling detail. The second is that the demon is writhing in pain, muddy blood flowing from his severed arm.
And that severed arm...well, that's currently still attached to my bodice.
As my eyes dip to where his claws are tightly wrapped in the purple material, I let out a shrill scream, pulling with both hands on the grotesque arm in an attempt to dislodge it.
"Be quiet, human," the man in black states in a deadpan voice, not even bothering to look at me. All at once, I realize yet another thing. This isn't Cer—though his physique is similar. His voice is nothing like Cer's.
The rebuke instantly quiets me, and I frown at my odd acquiescence. My mouth opens and closes, but I can't find any reply—not when he might be my only chance of survival.
The stranger maneuvers his sword to the side, the white catching some of the light and reflecting it directly at the demon. There is a flash of foreign symbols on the sword that seem to be pulsating with life. The demon gives another loud yelp of pain before he disappears.
Just like before in the auditorium, he simply vanishes.
I stare at the empty spot, shocked that the demon would leave like that. Yet my shock only mounts when a hissing sound directs my attention to the severed arm currently lying by my side. Bubbles erupt to the surface, and like a corrosive acid, the arm dissolves until there's nothing left behind.
What the hell...
"Why are you not getting up?" the same harsh voice demands.
I whip my head up, my gaze instantly becoming belligerent at his tone and word choice.
He has cropped dark hair, a strong jaw and cheekbones, and the darkest irises I've ever seen. His eyes are big and round, framed by thick, black lashes that would make any woman envious. His expression is neutral as he stares down at me. With slow, deliberate movements, he stashes his sword away in the scabbard secured at his waist.
"And who are you?" I ask curiously.
He continues to stare at me. From this angle, there's something familiar about him.
"Do you know Cer and Thea, by any chance?" I inquire. Once more, I'm struck by an odd familiarity. His features are reminiscent of Cer's. Although their coloring might be different, the bone structure, eye shape, and even the nose are almost identical.
He regales me with a grunt, his eyes scanning my bloody neck and bodice with assured disinterest.
"Get up," he orders, and something about his tone irks me.
"You should say please," I shoot back in annoyance.
His expression doesn't change.
He merely blinks in a bored manner.
Pushing my palms to the ground, I attempt to stand up, only to fall back on my ass again, a low whimper of pain slipping past my lips.
I look up at him, expecting to see at least some compassion, maybe even offer a helping hand. Instead, he's sporting the same uninterested expression. No muscle in his body has moved. He's just staring at me.
"It's good manners to help a lady in need," I grumble when he makes no attempt to move.
I wonder if I sprained my ankle when I fell. It's a little tender to the touch and I can't put my weight on it. I might need to ice it up later...
"You're not a lady," he simply states, taking a step to move past me.
"W-what?" I sputter, my eyes widening in incredulity at his words.
He stops in his tracks right by my side, gazing down at me with that inscrutable expression of his.
"You do not hold a noble title. Therefore, you are not a lady."
I blink. Slowly. As slow as possible so I can properly digest his words.
"A noble title... You..." I take a deep breath. "I was speaking figuratively, not literally."
"I do not understand your words, human," he states blankly, still staring at me.
"It means you should be a gentleman and help a woman in need," I explain, exasperated.
"But I am not a gentle man," he replies evenly.
My lashes flutter at him, my brows creasing with confusion.
"Will you help me or not?" I huff out.
He surprisingly nods, leaning down toward me. I extend my arms, thinking he's going to help me get to my feet, but instead, he swoops me in his arms in one smooth movement.
"You should have said that was what you wanted from the beginning," he mentions as he carries me to the staircase.
What ? Another frown mars my forehead. Just what the hell is wrong with this man? I didn't think there could be someone out there with worse manners than Cer and Thea, but it seems I've barely scratched the surface.
I'm about to question how he's going to climb with me like this, but it seems I don't have to worry when he all but floats up, using only his feet to keep himself stable on the narrow steps.
We emerge through the wardrobe and into the dressing room. There's still no sign of Thea or Cer.
The stranger carries me to the center of the room, where he stops. His eyes are scanning around the room, his expression focused. But he doesn't let go of me. I open my mouth to tell him to put me down but close it when I realize that he might be sensing danger. Considering my ankle is not in the best shape, I won't take my chances. And he seems quite a proficient fighter.
To my surprise, he's not on the lookout for demons. His brows crease lightly as he moves to the vanity, picking up a bottle of pink glitter, likely left behind by one of the actresses. Keeping me in his arms with one hand, he uses the other to check its contents, looking thoroughly intrigued by it. With a nimbleness you wouldn't expect of someone using only one hand, he unscrews the cap, shaking the bottle and scattering the glitter all over the table. His gaze is intent as he stares at the glitter, almost like a child in a candy shop. Some fine particles of powder end up in the air, tickling my nose until my eyes tear up. I attempt to draw a breath in, but I ultimately cannot stop myself from sneezing. The power of my sneeze scatters the glitter even more, some of it ending up on the mirror and some of it on us.
My eyes widen in shock as I gaze down to find glitter all over my gown, with some of it sticking to my bloodied gashes. And as I slowly turn to the stranger, it's to find him too completely draped in pink glitter, the shade complementing his black ensemble.
He blinks slowly.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asks in a low, outraged voice.
"Maybe you shouldn't have messed with the bottle." I wrinkle my nose in discomfort.
"What is this magic, human? Explain," he barks out, still fiddling with the glitter bottle with his free hand. "And why is it this...cheery color?"
I stare at him open-mouthed.
"It's glitter. It's not magic."
"It sparkles ," he adds, the corners of his mouth curling in disgust.
"That's what it's made for." I roll my eyes. "To make things sparkle."
He frowns, and I think it's safe to say this might be his first experience with glitter. But he's not deterred as he continues to study the items on the table, picking up a perfume next. Instead of spraying it, however, he unscrews the entire cap until the liquid spills everywhere, the scent wafting in the air.
Well, I must say it is a nice change from the sulfurous smell of the demon—just a tad too pungent.
"I'm not sure what you're trying to do, but you should stop destroying the makeup," I add as he touches another container.
"Makeup?" he repeats, the word foreign in his tone.
"You know, the stuff you apply on your face and body."
"I know no such thing," he huffs. Ignoring me, he continues to check every item.
"Hey, you're ruining people's property," I rephrase my words, reaching out to grab his hand.
He turns his head toward me, giving me a deadly stare.
"Do not touch me without permission, human," he states, potentially forgetting that I was already touching him before since he still has not let go of me. If anything, considering I'm in his arms, I'd say he is touching me .
"Just stop whatever you're doing."
"I must check all these odd containers for any potential threat." The words flow out of his mouth. "I do not know what type of magic you humans dabble in."
Now it's my turn to simply stare at him.
I thought Thea was odd, but she certainly wasn't this level of crazy.
I attempt to get him to stop once more, but he ignores me and continues to check every single item on the vanity. Alas, after some time, he is done, and he moves away from that area. But I'm still in his arms!
"You can put me down, you know," I grumble.
He doesn't reply as he simply lets go of me.
Just. Like. That.
I yelp in pain as I fall down. Luckily, the carpet is fluffy enough to make it less painful, but the impact still jostles my bones.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I burst out, looking up at him belligerently.
He stares me down, his eyes narrowing.
"You asked me to put you down. I did."
"You dropped me," I point out.
"I put you down," he counters.
"Ugh!" I let out an annoyed huff. "You're not from around here, are you?"
His eyes narrow further.
"You're not from this place," I reiterate.
"I am not," he replies proudly, pushing his chin up.
His tone tells me he doesn't have the highest consideration for us humans .
"Why are you here anyway? And how did you get past the barrier?" I decide to change the subject since it's a chore to have a normal conversation with someone who cannot understand normal language—and who already sees me as a primitive human.
"I can get through any barrier," he immediately answers, a hint of indignation in his voice—as if he's insulted I'd even suggest otherwise.
"Right. Well, thank you for saving me from that demon," I reluctantly offer. No matter how odd his behavior might be, he did save my life.
"As you should," he replies smoothly.
I stare at him unblinkingly. He stares back, his expression puzzled. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes dipping from my face to my neck.
"You're bleeding," he states blankly.
Bringing my hand to my neck, I feel the wetness coat my fingers, together with particles of glitter. Although it doesn't hurt too much, there's quite a bit of blood.
He crouches in front of me, his shrewd eyes inspecting my wound. He looks at it from every angle, pursing his lips. Before I realize what he means to do, he pulls on the hem of my gown, ripping out two strips of material. Using the first one, he dabs at my neck, cleaning the wound. But he soon realizes that some of the glitter is not coming off, remaining stuck to my skin. The microparticles are abrasive enough that every time he wipes the fabric over my neck, I wince in pain.
"You're in pain," he observes, his tone clinical.
I force a smile. "It's the glitter. It's scratching my skin when you dab at it."
He considers my words for a moment before he nods to himself. Removing the fabric from my neck, he brings it to his lips and spits on it.
He...
My eyes are the size of two saucers as I watch in shock as he spits a couple more times on the cloth before he dabs it over my wounds again. The moisture from his saliva helps with the glitter particles, but I'm still processing the fact that he spat on it.
He works nimbly, cleaning my wound as best as he can before using the other strip of material to tie it around my neck in two layers.
Pleased with the result, he gets up, proceeding to ignore me.
I'm still frozen to the spot, staring at a blank spot while he's already curiously inspecting the rest of the room, as if he didn't just...
"You spat on me," I say in a low voice when my shock starts to wear off.
He half turns, raising an eyebrow at me.
"You spat on me," I repeat. "On my wound. You..."
"Yes. I am still awaiting your gratitude," he says smoothly.
My mouth hangs open. I didn't think I could be more shocked, but there it goes.
"You what?" My voice goes up in outrage.
"I shared my precious healing saliva with you, human. You should be more than grateful that I would deign to do so," he continues, and with every word, he manages to render me even more speechless than before. "Others would prostrate themselves at my feet for such an honor."
"Prostrate at your feet?" I repeat numbly. Just who the hell does he think he is? Yet even as I ask myself that, the previously pulsing pain stops. I reach for my ankle, feeling for the tender spot from before, only to find that there's nothing there.
Yet before I can say anything else, or before he can insult me some more, the door to the dressing room opens. Thea and Cer stride in, both looking perfectly fine. Thea is once more wearing the blue dress from before. But as they see the new guest, they both stop in their tracks, unable to hide their surprise. At least Thea, who gasps audibly. Cer is more subtle in his reaction.
"Ze!" Thea bursts out, dashing toward him. He immediately extends his arm to stop her just as Cer grabs her arm and drags her back.
"What are you doing here?" Cer asks, and somehow he doesn't seem too pleased about Ze's presence.
"I was in the vicinity and I realized you might need help," Ze haughtily professes.
"You can't be here, Ze. You know that," Cer says through gritted teeth. "Not when there's a war brewing."
War? What war?
I look from one side to the other, confused about their exchange.
"Aethon took over for me," Ze shrugs. "He can handle it until I come back."
"Excuse me? What's going on? Who's he?" I point at Ze.
It's at that moment that Thea notices my torn and bloodied gown, quickly rushing to my side.
"What happened, Luce? Are you all right?"
"She is, but not thanks to you," Ze adds pointedly, probably fishing for some more praise.
"I'm fine. He saved me from the demon," I admit reluctantly. He smirks, and God, I could swear he's preening. Arrogant ass!
"What? Oh, I'm so sorry, Luce. This was all my fault for eating that bacon. But it was so good..."
"Yes, it was your fault," Ze comments. "You left a defenseless human alone, Erithea, when you knew you should not," he adds with a strange glint in his eyes.
"Can you guys just explain what's happening and who this"—I wave my hand at him, unable to find a good or even neutral word to describe him—"thing is?" My eyes widen at my slip, as do everyone else's.
"Thing?" Ze sputters. "Thing? You puny little human." He takes a step closer, his eyes flashing at me.
"Well, I don't know who you are, do I?" I quickly make the excuse.
"Don't mind Ze too much, Luce. He's Cer's friend," Thea hurries to say.
"I am his superior," Ze adds smugly.
Cer rolls his eyes at that, but a smile pulls at his lips—one of the very few times he's smiled since I've known him.
"Superior in what?"
"Oh that," Thea stammers. "Remember I told you my brother fights demons. Ze fights them too."
My brows shoot up in surprise.
"Why is he here then? Is he taking part in the game too?"
"That's right. Are you part of the game, too, Z?" Cer asks, narrowing his eyes at him.
"You could say I am a late arrival. But now I will be on your team. You may rejoice," he says, entirely serious.
My God, but I don't think I've ever met someone as arrogant.
"Who invited you?" I grumble under my breath. His head whips to me, his eyes boring a hole in me.
"Your opinion is of no consequence, human."
"Human this, human that. I have a name, damn it," I burst out, shocking myself.
"I have not heard it," he replies, staring intently at me.