Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Isat bolt upright panting, my body drenched in cold sweat.
Donovan. He was in the Under, getting swamped by his own nightmares.
My heart pounded so hard I felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I had to save him. I was getting the fuck out of here.
My vision wobbled; the curse pulled me back in, back onto the cold wet lawn in bare feet. Peter loomed behind me—he could always run much faster than me. I was helpless, hopeless. Locked up, locked up…
I gritted my teeth and whirled around to face him. “You know what?” I spat out through clenched teeth.
Peter stopped in his tracks.
“You know what?” I said again. “I don't care.”
He tilted his head, looking at me. He held a syringe in his hand. You’re never getting out of here…
“I don’t care!” I screamed in his face. The only thing I cared about was saving Donovan from the Under. I had to rescue him from his own nightmares.
Peter turned to ash and drifted away.
Desperately, I wrenched myself out of my nightmare and back into reality. It was easier than I expected, and I knew why.
Donovan had cut the curse-tie. He’d done exactly what he meant to do.
He’d journeyed to the human Under, found the curse-tie that Connor had put on me, and severed it.
Only a fragment of it remained, and he couldn’t sever that, not from the Under.
Only I could do it, here, in the Over. I had to face my fears to be free of it.
But now, I had a new worst fear to face. Donovan was in trouble.
I panted, trying to calm my pulse. My eyes flicked left and right. The bed was the same. The door had a handle. I was still in St. Francis. I pushed off the covers, moving gingerly; I’d been still for far too long. I was wearing a hospital gown and underwear. Just like at the psych hospital.
The nightmare pricked at me from the edges of my psyche, threatening to plunge me back in again. I clenched my teeth and beat it back. I got out of bed, moving cautiously.
My whole body was covered in bruises. Good God, I was a mess.
Striker really did a number on me when he arrested me.
Or maybe when he beat me with his baton.
Or, when he tased me. I looked down at my body, really seeing it for the first time in a long time, and felt an outraged determination poke my core to life.
My magic burst into flame, set to a rolling boil, and chased away the dark edges of my vision, silencing the screaming phantoms in my head. He hadn’t won. Not yet. I clenched my fists.
I knew what I needed to do.
Connor was right; Donovan couldn’t fully break this curse. The only person who could break this curse was me.
And I knew exactly how I had to do it.
Susan Moore always knew what to do.
I took a deep breath and crept over to the door, peeking through the little window.
The corridor was empty. I opened the door and snuck out, keeping my senses on high alert.
At the edge of the corridor, the nurse’s station buzzed with activity.
Men and women in scrubs bustled around, tapping on tablets, chatting with each other briskly and with breezy confidence.
Orderlies wheeled equipment back and forth with purpose.
Monitors beeped. Visitors wandered, wide-eyed and grim.
Thank goodness for staffing shortages. As long as I wasn’t begging for attention, nobody was going to notice me.
I kept my head up—not looking left or right—limped right past the station, heading towards the emergency exit, and tiptoed down the steps.
There. The exit was right there. I dragged myself one step, then another, just had to get out the door, across the street, and?—
A heartbreaking sound pierced my focus—a mournful howl.
Right to the left of the hospital entrance, a large gold Labrador in a service vest sat on the concrete, sobbing wildly.
I limped over. “Cecil?”
He paused mid-howl. His head tipped sideways. “Chosen?”
“What are you doing here?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
“Uh…”
“You’re meant to be inside in a coma, magically cursed and fighting off imaginary demons for all eternity.”
My equilibrium wobbled, and blackness crept into the edges of my vision.
No.
I fixed Donovan’s face in my mind's eye. I had to save him. I had to break the last of this goddamned curse-tie. While it was still intact, it lingered like a specter over me, threatening to plunge me into madness whenever I was triggered. “I’m still a little cursed, Cecil.”
He stared at me for a second. “What, so you’re suddenly okay now?
You thought you’d go for a little walk outside?
Chosen, do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?
I’ve been sitting out here, howling in misery for hours!
Everyone else is back at home with Violet—who, incidentally, is losing her mind too, because she keeps opening up holes in the floor and throwing Cress outside.
Eryk won’t stop crying. Nate is so scared he can’t even form words.
They’re all freaking out. They’re trying to come up with a plan to save Prince Donovan from what is essentially eternal damnation. ”
Locked up, locked up.
I clenched my fists, forcing the phantoms back.
“Do you understand how serious this all is?” Cecil shook himself.
“Our Chosen One is incapacitated, our prince is lost in the Underworld, Cress is wearing the most hideous outfit I’ve ever seen in my life, and our spies tell us that Connor has gone to Faerie to announce that his brother is dead, and he will be claiming the heirdom from his mother in less than six hours’ time.
His supporters are rejoicing. Some of the more timid Middle World creatures have started to make plans to go into hiding.
” He glared at me. “And now I find you wandering around the hospital entrance, bright eyed and bushy tailed? Were you just being dramatic? Did I beat studs into my gorgeous hide for nothing?”
“No, you idiot. Being overly dramatic is your thing, not mine.”
He sniffed. “There’s no need to be mean about it.”
“Why are you here, Cecil? Why aren’t you helping the others?”
“I’m keeping vigil, you fool. It’s called ‘pining for my mistress.’ They won’t let me inside the hospital, so I did it out here.
” His little furry face creased up. “Why didn’t you summon me when you were in jail, Chosen?
You could have called me. I would have come to help you.
” Tears welled up in his eyes. Despite being as sassy as ever, he was genuinely distraught.
I bent down and stroked his head, and he leaned into my palm.
“You know why. I won’t take away your autonomy, Cecil.
Besides,” I admitted. “I forgot that you could come when I called. Listen…” I went to kneel but thought better of it.
Goddamn it, I’d been beaten black and blue.
“Cecil, I need your help. I think I know what I have to do to finish breaking this curse.”
“What? Tell me, Chosen, because I have to redeem myself. My little flogging session only stalled His Highness from killing me for failing you. Luckily, I managed to hide my giant erection from him while I was wailing on myself.”
Okay, I was going to pretend he hadn’t said that.
“I need to face my fears. This curse… it keeps plunging me into my worst nightmare. My worst nightmare is getting locked up in an institution with no hope of ever getting out.” That was happening to Donovan, right now, and even though it was my fear, the thought of it happening to him scared me even more.
I could feel the curse pulling at me, trying to drag me under again, but he’d severed the worst of it.
While my fear was focused on Donovan, the curse was almost easy to keep at bay.
“I need to get over there,” I said, jerking a thumb towards the psych ward across the road. “My instincts are telling me I have to get myself locked into a padded room.”
“Are you being serious?”
“I am. I don't know how to explain it. I think it has to do with the magic I was gifted from the brethren stone. Frustration is a useful emotion; it helps you highlight exactly what you don’t want, so you can focus on what you do want. I really really don't want to be cursed anymore, and… I feel like I’m being pushed towards the thing that will help me break it. And it makes sense,” I added, clenching my fists.
“Like Bronwyn says, you gotta feel your feelings. All this time I’ve been cursed, I’ve been terrified of the thought of being locked up forever, and I’ve been trying to run from that fear.
So, maybe, if I do get locked up, I’ll be able to face that fear. ”
“That sounds insane. But then again, you are quite crazy.”
For the first time, his words didn’t send me spiraling. Thank you, Donovan.
Cecil stood, his tail wagging. “You don’t have to explain it, Chosen, I don’t really care either way. As long as I don’t have to look at Cress’s hideous outfit or beat myself with a paddle anymore, I’m on board. So, we need to sneak you into a psychiatric facility?”
“Yeah. It’s that building just there,” I said, pointing.
“Okay…” He eyed me critically. “Come with me.” He trotted away, disappearing around the corner; I followed, limping as fast as I could. We ducked into a dark corner in a service lane, checked for cameras, and then Cecil faced me. “Jeepers, those bruises really are something.”
“Can you do anything about them?”
“I can cover them in concealer, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, I mean, can you heal me? Like Nate does with his glowing hands?”
“I’m a show pony, Chosen, not a medmage. Although,” he said, looking thoughtful. “If you need a pick-me-up, I’ve still got a couple of grams of coke in here somewhere?—”
I waved a hand. “No, no, that’s okay, Cecil.”
“Are you sure?” He pawed at his service jacket. “It might help.”
“It won’t,” I said firmly.
“It will help me.”