Chapter 32
Everything is cold. Mind-numbingly cold and completely void of light. I don’t remember what happened, or even how I got here. But I remember this place. This half world I find myself slipping into time and time again. Not fully gone, but not quite living either. And always so incredibly cold.
I can sense them, just on the edge of whatever this place is. Their voices are muffled, but I can feel their concern, their movement around me like floating orbs of energy. I want to reach out and touch them, want to ask them what happened. But I can’t get my body to move.
Something acidic suddenly dances across my tongue, something taunting and tempting. It almost feels familiar, but there’s something different about it this time that I can’t quite figure out. And despite its enticing facade, I recoil at its presence.
It doesn’t like that. The foreign substance grows, turning on me and possessing my body with a ferocity that terrifies me. And then I’m running, screaming, looking for an escape. Any escape. I pound on the walls of the obsidian cage, begging for them to let me out. Begging for them to listen to me.
I can feel distant parts of myself fighting to expel it, reject it.
But the poison is too strong, and before I know what’s happening I’m sinking into the abyss, losing a part of me I never even knew existed.
I claw after it, not ready to let it go.
Not when I haven't even had the opportunity to experience it fully.
Laurel’s voice breaks through my panic and suddenly I’m looking all around, chasing after its source. Perhaps if I follow it, I can find my way out of this hell. I can’t decipher what she’s saying, her words too murky to make sense of.
I cry out to her, asking for her to repeat them. To come find me. But there is no reply. I sink to my knees, curling in on myself as the cold reaches a new low. My fingers go numb, my lips quivering uncontrollably.
Come back, I think. Or maybe I scream it. I can’t tell anymore. Everything feels so distant, so blurry. Even in the pitch black. If I could feel my face I’m sure there’d be tears running down my cheeks. But the warmth of her voice is gone. The never-ending, bone-chilling cold consumes me.
I fade, wanting nothing more than reprieve from the pain like ice burning me alive. And it’s not my father’s name or Tamiel’s on my lips. It’s not Sterling or Quinn’s radiating through my mind as I slowly disappear. Not even Laurel’s, nor Zeke’s.
It’s Aamon I summon, pleading for him to find me. To save me. And I don’t have the capacity to understand why. But his dark, severe eyes are all that I picture as I fully sink into the darkness snuffing me out.
I open my eyes, and there he is, staring down at me. His face is hardened, his skin paler than normal. Raven strands stick to the sweat on his brow.
“Aamon.” The word catches in my throat, making my voice sound wrong.
I blink, and notice the way everything around me feels sharper, more pronounced.
My gaze drifts from his eyes to those of Quinn’s behind him, knit with concern.
And then I realize my hand is being held by someone and I turn to find a distraught Sterling on the ground beside me.
I swallow a few times, trying to get my bearings as my eyes land once again on Aamon.
“You’re straddling me,” I state. His full weight is nearly crushing, but I find myself missing it as he slides off the bed.
“Nothing gets past you, Angel." He laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound. I sit up a little and all three of them lunge at the movement.
“I’m okay,” I reassure them, lifting my hands to show that there’s nothing to fuss over.
And it’s true. I feel fine. Good, even. I settle back against the pillows behind me.
But something about the change in position makes me notice the metallic tang staining my mouth.
I lift my fingers to my lips, pulling them away to reveal bright streaks of red.
“I—I’m sorry.” I stumble over the words, looking frantically for a towel to clean up the blood.
“You’re apologizing?” Aamon asks, incredulously.
Laurel comes from somewhere behind the boys, a towel in hand. She perches beside the bed, dabbing my fingers and helping clean me up. I nod in answer to Aamon’s question. “I didn’t know I was bleeding. I don’t—I don’t remember what happened.”
I run my tongue over my lips, suddenly so thirsty that I can’t think of anything else besides the little bit of blood still staining them. The sharp tips of my teeth push against my tongue, and I freeze.
Fangs. Fangs that shouldn’t be there, because my father has taken every precaution to keep them well hidden over the years. My eyes go wide, my body switching into fight or flight as I scramble backwards to put space between me and the boys who have surely discovered my secret.
“It’s okay,” Quinn reassures me in a slow, level tone. His hand is raised as if he’s trying to calm a frightened animal. Which doesn’t feel far off base. “We know you’re touched by the Arcane. You’re safe with us.”
I shake my head, trying hard to focus on Quinn and what he’s saying. But I can feel Aamon’s eyes piercing me from where he’s standing at the foot of my bed and can’t help but feel there’s a threatening intent behind them. He was so angry with me before, so sure I was hiding something. And I was.
“I don’t understand,” I say, trying to make sense of the million different thoughts racing through my head.
“We were in the garage,” Quinn reminds me, stepping up to the bed and kneeling beside me. “Aamon had something for you. Do you remember any of that?”
I furrow my brow, trying to make myself concentrate. Memories work their way through my mind like fog over water. “The wraith,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I . . . attacked him.”
Quinn nods. “Rightfully so. But when you did, there was a shift that happened. Your Arcane magic coming to the surface, we assume. It . . .”
“It took you under,” Sterling finishes for him, his voice breaking. “You’ve been out for a couple days now. We were trying to figure out how to help you come out of it.”
“Days?” I gasp in disbelief.
The room goes quiet. Even Laurel.
“So, how did you do it?” I ask trepidatiously, looking to Laurel's averted gaze. There’s an energy I don’t quite understand between the four of them. But as hard as I try to concentrate on it, there’s only one thing on my mind. Hunger.
“Let’s give them a minute,” Laurel finally says, standing to her feet and motioning for Sterling and Quinn to follow her out of the room. I watch them go, each of their faces more apologetic and downcast than the last. Sterling is the last out the door, practically shaking as he goes.
I can’t make sense of it. Whatever they did, it worked. I had accepted my fate. Was convinced this was the end for me. But they'd found me. They’d led me back to the light and now I’m here—alive. How could that be a bad thing?
The soft click of the door closing behind Sterling snaps my attention back to Aamon. He's still standing at the end of my bed, his eyes hyperfocused on me.
“Care to explain what’s going on?” I ask.
I fold my arms over my chest, noticing the cut up dress that’s barely clinging to me and the myriad of wires hanging off my skin.
I rip them away, hating their familiar feel.
I’ve spent so much of my life under similar circumstances and I need them off of me.
“Don’t,” Aamon starts, then stops.
“Why? What was all of this for?” I gesture to the machine beside me, then look down to see the IV in my arm, and rip that out too.
“Would you just fucking stop for a minute?” His lips are tight, his words forced. As if he’s trying to control his anger.
“Why don’t you worry a little less about what I’m doing and a little more about giving me some answers,” I shoot back. And despite how grateful I am to him for saving me, I can’t help the annoyance working its way into my tone.
There’s a fire between us, always burning, always igniting that urge to fight. And it feels wrong to try and suppress it.
He sighs, walking over to the dresser beside the bed and leaning against it so his back is to me. “You had Sterling worried sick, you know. Quinn too.”
I hum, amused that he’s not including himself on that list. Judging by how tense his body is, he wasn’t any better off than the rest of them.
“I’m serious,” he barks, as if he can read my thoughts.
“You exploded in the garage, your power was so strong. Your hands shifted into black claws, your eyes shone brighter. You were pure animal instinct, Evangeline. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
And you didn’t think to tell us something like that may happen? ”
“I was trying to hold it back,” I say cautiously. “And I was doing a pretty good job, considering I’d gone so long without any treatment. The last thing I expected was to see . . . that wraith again.” I wince at the memory. “Who I thought was dead. I didn’t foresee it being an issue.”
He lets out a deep sigh, dropping his head into his hand leaning against the dresser.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I’d meant it to be a kind gesture.
After all the trouble that fucking wraith had caused, I figured you’d want your revenge.
” He pauses for a minute, chewing on his words.
“I should have been more delicate about how I handled it.”
I mull over my response. “He deserved what he got,” I say at last. The last thing I saw was one of them ripping the wraith’s head from his shoulders.
“But as you now know, it wasn’t just his actions that brought me here.
My father banished me for exposing my power to those in the city.
I attacked the wraith in self-defense, blacking out as I made my way home through the city and revealing my true form to anyone who saw me.
” I shake my head, letting it fall into my hands.