Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Silence exploded and flourished in the room like smoke, expanding and sucking out all the air. Heat stomped down my spine, leaving beads of perspiration over my skin.
Warwick’s burning eyes stayed on me, his nose flaring.
“What do you mean you brought him back to life?” Ash cut through the tension, his tone eerily detached.
My eyes didn’t leave Warwick’s. His jaw gritted together, but he didn’t speak.
“You saw me there, didn’t you?” Every syllable was choppy and terrified.
He went still.
“Didn’t you?”
His head started moving back and forth, his throat darting up and down. “No,” he muttered so low I barely heard it. “No.” He turned away, his feet retreating from me. I automatically reached out for him in my head, projecting myself over to him, my hand pressing into his back.
Warwick jerked at my touch. He swung around, glaring at me. “Don’t.” I backed off, pulling back into myself, but my physical body took a step toward him.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
Warwick’s gaze darted all around, not landing on me.
“I said, look at me,” I ordered. As if he couldn’t ignore my request, his fury-filled eyes snapped onto me. “I was there that night, wasn’t I?”
“No.” He scoured his neck. “This can’t be possible. I dreamed it . . . a hallucination.”
“It wasn’t.” I had no idea where my assurance came from, but it sat in my gut, identical to truth.
“How is it possible? You weren’t even born yet.” Warwick tossed up an arm, his agitation rising.
Technically, I was, barely, but I got what he meant. I couldn’t have been there. My mother was at our home giving birth to me. I was nowhere near the war. And was a newborn.
“Wait . . . wait.” Ash held up his hands, strolling in the middle of us. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know, but when I was in the book, I wasn’t simply viewing events passively. I could feel the magic, smell the grass and blood, see the barrier between the world falling . . . felt it . . . like I was there.”
Ash jerked, his eyes opening wide.
“Is that not normal?”
“The book shows you what previously happened. You view it like a movie, history that has already passed. Yes, it can feel like you’re right there, but you aren’t. You can’t touch or smell anything and certainly can’t interact with it,” Ash said firmly.
My muscles constricted around my throat and lungs, making it hard for me to breathe.
I recalled how it felt when the dirt rained down on me, the taps on my skin, the mud and guts squishing between my toes. The feel of Warwick’s burnt skin against my fingers.
“When I asked you if you saw anything else, you lied.” Warwick’s rumble cut my attention to him like a magnet.
I nodded, my throat struggling to swallow.
“You saw me come back to life.” A nerve in his jaw jumped.
“And you saw me.”
He inhaled sharply, turning away.
I was right.
“Szent fasz!” Holy fuck! Ash whirled to Warwick. “This is sotét démonom?” Your dark demon.
“Dark demon?” I repeated it in English. The saying felt familiar, my brain rolling back trying to recall why it did.
A memory of the night we escaped from Halálház, hiding at Kitty’s, came back to me. He started to tell me a little about his past. He had uttered those very words.
“It was the night of the Fae War. Right before the final barrier fell, I was jumped by many enemies at once. A hunting party.” He stared out of the window, taking another drink.
“How is it possible?”
“Sotét démonom.”
My dark demon.
“How the fuck do you know about that?” Warwick’s chest puffed with fury, his shoulders rolling toward Ash.
“A few times when you were here healing after the war, you muttered about a dark demon saving you, her eyes and hair black as night.” Ash peered at me, stopping on those features, exactly the color of night. “I thought it was because you were fevered and imagining shit.”
“I was,” Warwick declared, but it fell flat, splatting on the floor, heavy with denial. He started to pace again. “I had just fuckin’ come back to life. I wasn’t exactly in a coherent state of mind.”
“Gods, listen to yourself.” Ash chuckled dryly. “You have no problem accepting you came back from the dead, like dead dead, but it’s too much to think that she was there?”
“And you can believe she was?”
“I’m not saying this isn’t all crazy as shit.
None of it should be possible. The only people who can bring people back from the dead are the highest-tier Druids dabbling in black magic, and necromancers.
And neither can bring someone truly back.
They are basically the walking dead. A shell of themselves, tortured and trapped—begging to die. ”
“Do I fuckin’ look or act like a zombie?” Warwick moved over by the fireplace, putting more distance between us.
“No, you act like a full living bastard,” Ash shot at him.
“Exactly!”
“Warwick.” I tucked hair behind my ear, my bare feet padding toward him. He shifted on his legs, his eyes darting all over again. I stopped in front of him, my neck craning back to look up at him.
“Warwick.”
His regard finally came to me, his eyes tracking mine for a long time before he uttered, “Dark. So black, they felt bottomless. Like they could save me and destroy me.”
“What was?”
“Her eyes.” His hand reached up, his thumb skating under my lashes. “Your eyes.”
The moment he touched me, energy crackled between us, and I once again saw that moment where I’d leaned over him, his figure jolting with life violently, our eyes connecting.
I saw myself through his eyes: The girl leaning over him, pale, with cuts and bruises on her face.
Her dark hair tangled and wild, only wearing a man’s dark green T-shirt.
Exactly what I was wearing now.
“Fuck.” Warwick lurched away as if he had been electrocuted, his chest heaving, and I knew he had seen the same thing. The dark demon who saved him twenty years ago was the exact girl in front of him now, down to the shirt I was wearing. Even though it was long ago, tonight, I had saved him.
We stared at each other for a long time. The sound of the clock ticking built up anxiety until it sounded like someone shouting.
“This can’t be possible,” Warwick blew out. But we both knew it was. “It was you.” His heavy gaze dragged down my body, taking in my shirt. “You were wearing that. How?”
I shook my head, having no clue.
“Wait.” Ash held up his hand, traveling to us. “What are you saying? What do you mean she was wearing that?” Ash pushed his palms into his head like it was going to explode. “Are you saying the vision you had twenty years ago was Brexley from tonight?”
Veins along Warwick’s neck throbbed and strained.
“That isn’t fucking possible!” Ash’s arms flew out, his voice bouncing off the walls. “The book records history; it doesn’t alter it.”
“I know,” Warwick snapped, his fingers skating back over the seam of the T-shirt, near my shoulder.
“But even this little hole . . . She was wearing this shirt.” Warwick’s fingers pinched at the shirt, tugging at the hole, his other hand moving to my face, his thumb sliding over my cheek.
“This bruise. The cut on her lip. I remember it all.”
A hiss of swear words came from Ash as he bent over his legs, taking deep breaths. “How the hell is this possible?”
“You tell me, tree fairy,” Warwick barked, backing away. “Fuck . . .”
I stood there. Numb.
“Fuck!” Warwick bellowed, whirling away from me. “This is . . . Fuck . . . I can’t . . .” He growled, pacing for a moment before striding for the exit.
“W-where are you going?”
Warwick didn’t respond as he stomped out, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving palpable silence in his wake.
I stared at where he exited, lost, scared, and overwhelmed.
It took several moments for Ash to stand up, centering himself.
“He needs a moment to calm down, gather his thoughts. He’ll be back.”
I nodded, slumping forward, feeling fatigued and heavy, plus extremely sweaty, dirty, and gross. My mind and emotions were a mess. This was all too much.
I could feel myself shutting down. I needed to do something so I wouldn’t lose it.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I said formally, no emotion in my voice. My head was overloaded, and my body was exhausted.
“Right now? Don’t you want to figure this out? I need every detai—
“No.” I held up my hand. “I need a moment.” I headed for the bathroom, hearing Opie and Ash mutter to each other. I stepped into the room, falling back against the door. My emotions went so many ways. I didn’t know if I was going to cry, scream, hyperventilate, or laugh.
Automatically, I reached out for Warwick, feeling a solid barrier there. I understood. This was a lot to take in. We hadn’t even gotten into the hows and whys.
What was I? How was it possible?
I had no idea of anything, except I had been there. I had brought Warwick to life. Some way, somehow. I was there.
Sotét démonom.
I was his dark demon.
The shower water cascaded gently down from the spout, tapping the stone floor, begging me to step under the stream. I itched to be clean, to wash everything away. Forget the world for a moment.
“Brexley?” A knock tapped at the door. “I have the clothes for you to change into. Plus, I want to wrap your side so it doesn’t get wet.”
“Oh, of course,” I replied. “Come in.”
The door glided open, Ash’s stunning face poking in like he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed. He moved in cautiously, smiling warmly at me.
“You probably want to soak for hours, but you need to keep it dry.” Ash set down the clothes Warwick brought me, strolling to me with a sheet of sticky film to cover my wounds. “I know this must be a lot right now.”
I snorted as he lifted up my shirt, covering the dry, clean bandages with the film, his touch tingling my skin. His sexual nature was always there, pulsating under the surface.
“We’ll figure it out.” His green eyes met mine with determination. “I promise. And you know fae don’t make promises unless they mean it.”