33. Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
No person would ever venture near the physician’s home again after that—Lux felt sure of it. Her throat ached, raw from guttural screams, just as every muscle was now sore from keeping them locked in place. It had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done—going against instinct shouting at her to kick the physician in the nose with every twist and pull.
She hadn’t expected Shaw to be waiting for her when she shuffled into the street on her new-to-her crutches. The bulky and difficult to maneuver contraptions were certainly something she planned to toss at the first opportunity. She caught Shaw smother what looked suspiciously like concern as she wobbled past him.
Her chest burned over it, anger pooling before seeping through every part of her. She hated that she was indebted to him. Again. She hated that he’d deceived her. She hated him.
“Do you need a carriage called?”
She stared at him like he’d sprouted a third eye. “At this hour?”
He shifted his feet, flummoxed. “Right. I’d forgotten.” His attention left her to study the falling moon.
It was late. So late, it was nearly morning, and she didn’t want Riselda awake when she arrived home. Lux pitched forward, righting herself awkwardly before continuing down the street. Two long strides and Shaw was alongside her.
“What are you doing?”
His gaze didn’t leave the buildings. “Delivering you home. You’re injured, and the streets aren’t safe.”
She scoffed. “You’re the most dangerous person on these streets. I don’t need your help.”
He didn’t even acknowledge that she’d spoken, which somehow irked her more. She seethed silently as the click of her crutches over stone resounded against darkened buildings. She couldn’t fight him off as she had done the night before. She was helpless.
Physically helpless. “Does the mayor employ you? A hired assassin thriving on violence, coin and a promise in a share of lifeblood?” Lux didn’t actually believe that theory. More likely he was a greedy man who happened to possess a little skill with a blade, though what he did upon draining all those bodies he’d murdered was beyond her. His sister likely had a vial or two.
Shaw snorted. Still, he didn’t speak, but continued to match his pace to her much slower one. Like I am not even worth his energy. Her teeth ground against one another until an idea formed, bringing a wicked grin to her lips, hidden by the night.
She stuck out a crutch. And Shaw’s tall frame was his undoing as he tripped, sent sprawling against the stones.
He growled through gritted teeth. “What in the saint-forsaken hell. ” By slow, menacing measures, he pushed himself from the ground.
Lux passed him by, ignoring him as he had her. When he pulled on her crutch, she whipped it from his grasp. He barely dodged the aim she made for his groin.
“Don’t touch me.”
He scowled after her. “I didn’t touch you. Just your wooden attachment. Though, you didn’t seem all that bothered by it when I saved you from becoming a howler’s meal.”
Her embarrassment in just how much she wasn’t bothered by it twined inside her until it took a new form. One that was easier for her to accept. Anger. Always more anger. “I don’t need to be saved by you. Not then, not now.”
“What were you doing out there, anyway?”
Oh, now you want to talk?
“Your memory is abysmal. But I’m unsurprised.” When her glance revealed his bewildered expression, she huffed. “You told me you wanted to investigate the prison. I told you I wanted the same for the forest. For the phantom. Now I have done both without you. And survived both. Without you.”
His sudden grip on her arm was unyielding yet gentle. She supposed he didn’t want to send her stumbling after going through all the effort to get her fixed. “You snuck into the prison? How?”
“ Snuck is probably the wrong word. I’d use thrown, personally.”
If she didn’t hate him so much, she would have laughed at his shocked face. Until it darkened. “It was them who hurt you? Which Shield? Why? How did you get out?”
No questions about what she’d found. The idea of it gave her pause for all of a heartbeat before she shook herself free. “Quit pretending you care about my well-being, Shaw. You’ve been using me since the day you asked me to bring you to the mayor’s masquerade.”
“You have been using me too. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to you.”
Her laugh was harsh. “What you’ve kept hidden is unforgivable.”
“You won’t even be bothered to know why?”
“No!” Lux reigned her voice back. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the streets really weren’t safe for anyone anymore, let alone a broken girl. “Nobody has the right to drain another of their very essence . Be they criminals or innocent. How could you ?”
Shaw’s voice heated with passion. “Criminals deserve retribution, and they don’t deserve for you to bring them back simply to do it all again. Need I remind you, the people I’ve killed are not petty thieves. They are the worst Ghadra has to offer. Ones the Shield turn a blind eye to as they imprison those who oppose the mayor in any small way.”
Lux blocked the surfacing image of a tortured man upon a table, a menacing figure in white slicing deep behind his eyes. No . She could never condone what Shaw did, what he still continued to do, and her heart seemed hellbent on breaking all over again at the reminder.
Her street. At last. Her ankle throbbed with searing pain, and all she wanted was her bed.
They walked in silence the rest of the short distance, but Lux paused outside her door.
“How did you find me?”
Shaw opened his mouth only to close it again. She watched the war rage in his eyes by the lightening sky before they shuttered. “Chance, I suppose.” His gaze traveled her length, lingering on her wrapped ankle, and then her eyes. “Goodbye, Necromancer.”
She didn’t say anything as she watched him go, and he didn’t look back. As soon as he was out of sight, she tossed her crutches in the nearest alley before pulling open her freshly repaired, and thus silent, door to hobble down the steps.
Riselda was asleep, soft breaths puffing from the bed beside the coal-lit fireplace. Lux struggled against waking her, her good foot creaking down the stairs with its awkward added weight.
She crossed the floor, seriously contemplating entering her workroom to try her hand at Riselda’s potions for something to dull the pain, but in the end, she passed it by. She’d likely end up poisoning herself instead.
She winced, holding back a hissed oath as the rug brushed across her bandaged foot. Rumpled again. Her old one never had this problem. Lux glared down at the offending material.
She needed a bath badly, but it would have to wait until morning. As would the tale she needed to spin regarding how she obtained her injury. Her mind was sluggish with pain and exhaustion. The best she could think of right now was that she’d tripped.
At least the pitcher atop the washstand was filled. Lux scrubbed her face, neck, and hands as quickly and quietly as she could.
Stripping out of her clothes was tedious once entering her room, what with her new sense of balance fighting against the old. She’d nearly toppled more than once, but she couldn’t sleep covered in the black grime of the wood. The longest nightgown she owned just brushed the thick covering over her ankle and, victorious, Lux pulled back the pile of blankets.
A violent knock reverberated through the walls.
She shut her eyes. No, not tonight .
It pounded again, harder this time, insistent that she not even glance toward her welcoming pillow.
Lux tossed the blanket back onto the bed in fury, grabbing for her robe instead. Cinching it tight around her middle, she limped through her door to see Riselda opening another. Morana waltzed through, not a hair out of place, and two Shields bearing a collapsed body. Colden. Lux’s irritation swelled. This was her reason for not sleeping? Let him rot.
“I’m terribly sorry to wake you both. Something’s happened to dear Colden. Something horrible!”
Lux had an inkling it was the same horrible something that had claimed him last time.
She shuffled after the party into the workroom, watching as the body was laid out on the table. She hadn’t revived him in some time, but this must be at least the third. She’d been a child at his first, when such habits were unbeknownst to her.
Lux moved to the table as the rest of them stepped back. She sensed Riselda’s presence peering over them all from the corner of the room, but she didn’t look at her aunt. Instead, she pushed back the tip of Colden’s mottled nose.
White powder.
“Something horrible, indeed.”
She could feel Morana’s rage directed toward her. Lux didn’t care. Her cheek remembered the sting of her shadow’s strike. Instead, Lux gestured toward the crock at her back. Morana stomped forward with a scowl, tossing the coins within.
“Time since death?”
“Six hours, five minutes.”
Lux smiled to herself. Maybe Morana did care for someone other than the reflection in her mirror. “As you remember, I don’t permit anyone to watch. Out.” Her eyes met her aunt’s. “Please.”
Riselda gazed at her a moment longer than the rest before following in their wake. As soon as they disappeared from view, Lux got to work. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could sleep.
She yawned widely as she prepared the thick paste, distantly wishing she’d had the time to pull the canines from the dead howler’s jaws before she’d fled. At least this revival wouldn’t require one. She turned and, forgetting her injury, cried out as she put weight on her ankle. The bowl she carried fell to the table with a clatter, where she clutched the worn edges, breathing the pain away.
“Lucena?”
“Fine, Riselda.” Lux pushed herself to standing lest her aunt make an unwelcome appearance.
She should have made Morana undress him for her. Pulling off his clothing while balancing on one foot caused a sheen of sweat to form across her brow. With a final grunt of frustration, she pulled the fabric free, covering his still body with a white sheet in its wake.
Faint, round bruises peppered his neck. Another on his chest looked to be the result of teeth. Lux curled her lip. It may have been Morana, but she doubted it. Colden was never a faithful sort.
Not that she cared about either of them.
She painted the concoction over his body with quick, practiced strokes. She’d forgotten to use something to guard against the smell, but it was too late now and wouldn’t have been worth hobbling around on her ankle for anyway. She would just have to deal with it.
Lux breathed through her mouth the best she could, and pivoted, ready to turn back for The Risen . But as her hand reached, she thought of Riselda. Of her confidence in her brilliance. Lux’s fingers retracted, curling inward. The words were etched in her mind. She could picture the entire script down to the flourishes adorning the page. Effortless.
She didn’t need it.
Lux breathed in deep, her nose hardly wrinkling, and peeled back his eyelids, preparing to begin.
Her hands stilled.
Her stomach plummeted.
And her uninjured leg wobbled beneath her.
A perfect slit adorned each pupil, slicing through the iris, extending down to where the dark met light. Lux peered closer, and her shock gave way to intrigue. She had never seen it up close, and it was so slight. No wonder it took so long to drain such a small amount.
She told herself she’d planned on touching them anyway.
Lux pushed her finger against the precise incision, separating it, and sucked in through her teeth when the barest remnants of lifeblood shimmered on her fingertip. She brought it close, studying it in the flickering light.
It was smooth—like oil. Instead of absorbing into her skin, it spread, highlighting every groove in the pad of her finger. There it remained, silver and glimmering and impossible to replace.
“Morana!” Her call ricocheted back to her, hurting her own ears.
A blonde head flounced through the door a moment later. Her eyes, bright and ready to greet her departed husband, fell to shadow at his unmoved form.
She fixed a glare on Lux. “What?”
And as horrid as it might be, Lux decided to test a theory. She gestured Morana forward, to study her lost love from the opposite side of the table. The cry of rage that followed was all the evidence she needed.
Morana, too, knew the secret to harvesting lifeblood.
“ NO! Who did this? Why!” Her gaze raked over Lux. “YOU! You always hated me, hated him. Hated that he chose me again and again even though you tried to lead him astray. Straight to your filthy bed!” Morana climbed atop the table, no longer caring for the body beneath her. Her eyes were roving wild, her hair frizzing at its edges.
And Lux was so focused on the strangeness of it all, especially on such little sleep, that she didn’t react until much too late.
Her head cracked to the side as Morana’s hand met her cheek.
She tasted blood and spat on instinct before tottering back on her good heel. Words of fury, hurt and truth cut their way up her throat, her cheek stinging in imitation of that haunting day in the prison, and yet, they died before they passed her lips.
For Morana sat perched beside Colden, tears tumbling down her cheeks from eyes stained red. And if Lux struck at a grieving girl, however old she may truly be, she would be no better than Morana. No better than Morana ever was to her.
“I did nothing to him, and you very well know it. I’ll give you your privacy. Take him and leave.”
Lux hobbled out the door as choking sobs filled the room at her retreat.
Thankfully, Morana and the Shield left with Colden’s body sooner than anticipated. Though she watched them go, Morana never brought her eyes back up to meet Lux’s own. It wouldn’t have been a notable gesture, except that Lux had never seen them downcast before.
Even though it would have felt so good to air exactly what she thought of Morana and her treatment of her all those years ago, Lux had made the right choice in keeping silent. The mayor’s daughter was more broken now than Lux could have ever made her. Maybe once Morana began to heal, a few veins of compassion would grow throughout her newly knitted heart.
A murderous gaze sliced toward her as the door swung closed.
Then again, maybe not.
“She struck you?” Riselda’s stare rivaled that of Morana’s as she sat in the hard-backed chair.
The early morning sun struggled through the curtains, already dimmed by an overcast sky, and Lux yawned wide. “Yes.” She stepped toward her room, wincing against the pressure on her throbbing ankle.
Riselda’s burning gaze watched her go. “Mind the blood.”
Lux swiped at her mouth, wiping the sticky warmth on her robe without glancing at it. Riselda hadn’t asked about her other obvious injury, even though she’d glanced at it pointedly more than once. And when Lux had informed her about Colden’s irredeemable wounds, specifics withheld, she’d shrugged.
“I’m not sure why she was so shocked.”
Well Lux had been shocked. She still was. She’d come to think of the entire family as indestructible. And when they’d shattered the illusion by dying, she’d simply rebuilt it by bringing them back.
Lux collapsed into her bed, the throbbing in her newly aligned bones vibrating in her ears. It hurt miserably. She shifted, her teeth gritting against it.
Seconds stretched on indefinitely, and she soon entertained thoughts of downing whatever alcohol Riselda kept within the house, when her aunt knocked, tentative and slow.
“Come in.”
The door swung open, revealing Riselda and a small, smoking goblet. Lux’s eyes trailed the twining red wisps.
“I’ve brought you something for the pain. It’s been brewing for days and happened to cure tonight.”
Lux’s tongue ran over the cut of her lip, even as she knew it wasn’t to what her aunt referred. She eased herself up. “Thank you.”
Riselda smiled softly, pushing the goblet into her hands. “I’ve some things to see to.”
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Lux staring down into the cool mixture of deep red liquid. She should have asked exactly what it would do to her. Lux narrowed her eyes at it—until her ankle throbbed with an excruciating streak of heat up her calf.
She downed the contents in one swallow. Within so many heartbeats her bones began to tingle. Pins and needles prodded and poked, the sensation mounting in intensity as the pain remained unyielding.
“Ah! Devil’s own—” Without a care for the meticulous wrapping, she tore the thick bandages extending from her foot to her knee. Her skin crawled, but with the final toss of white fabric, the sensation dissipated. The pain ceased.
Lux breathed a sigh of relief that was caught as she took in the fading bruises, the evaporating swelling, and the painless twitch of her toes. Riselda hadn’t just taken away the pain. She’d healed the bones entirely.
Lux could only shake her head, staring at her foot as she moved the joint in a circular pattern. She huffed a laugh and fell back onto her pillows, then buried a wince as she remembered all she’d done to avoid Riselda’s questioning. Her dried hair crunched with grime beneath her.
It likely helped that she hadn’t been carried in, dripping an unknown black substance with a look of utter terror frozen upon her features in the dead of night. She couldn’t imagine an unquestioning Riselda then.