Lucille
Chapter
Forty-Five
My door squeaked open, and uneven steps thudded toward me.
I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t move. I only blinked away the crud from my lashes.
Shaking arms scooped me up and cradled me to a chest. He sat us on my bed and rested his head atop mine.
My face pressed against his soft sweater, the smell of fresh rain grounding me.
“I think I threw my back out picking you up, never mind my clubbed foot,” Oliver mumbled. He paused, then added, “Ronen let me in.”
I rubbed my chest.
“Okay, let might’ve been the wrong way to phrase it. He more or less bulldozed into the healers’ wing and demanded that Aspen or I come to you. I chose me.”
Oliver tapped the top of my head. “Anyone in there? He didn’t look good, Luce. And neither do you.”
I snorted.
“Huh.” Oliver pulled me in tighter. “Well, I’m more than happy to sit here gazing at the pretty wallpaper for the rest of the day and through the night if you want. Or…” He hesitated. “We could bear our pain together.”
I shut my eyes, and Oliver settled us deeper into the pillows like he already had his answer. I opened my mouth, about to tell him, but the lump in my throat grew.
Ronen wasn’t just some guy. I had feelings for him. Big, crazy, unnamable feelings. And I didn’t know how to separate them from the pain.
Oliver ran a hand through my hair, his fingers rough, as if since he couldn’t stress-scrub his own head, he’d use mine instead and disguise it as a semi-sweet gesture.
I caught his hand on the next pass, taking it in mine and rubbing circles into his palm. “I’m sorry about your sister, Oli.”
“I’m starting to think the only sister I’ve ever had and needed is you.”
We were both quiet for a moment.
“Ronen admitted he knew my powers were killing my mom. And my father knew too.”
His arms cinched around me. There wasn’t anything he could say. The only person who could fix this was me. And only if I ever figured out how to change the past.
“You know… if you wanted to win the emotional trauma contest, I would’ve given you the crown.”
“I don’t know. I think searching ninety-five years for your adopted sister only to learn she’s a witch who possesses and eats people’s souls while building an army of the Damned might win.”
“Damn…” he mused. “I think you might be right.”
I laughed softly. “I love you, Oliver.”
“I know. But do you love me enough to scoot off me? Your bony ass is cutting off circulation to my foot.”
“I suppose,” I teased half-heartedly, moving onto the mattress beside him.
A somber silence settled over us like a thick blanket.
“I need to dream-walk to Miriam,” I told him. “And for some reason, I just know it’ll be another blow. Not sure how much more I can take.”
Oliver knocked my chin upward. “A lot”
I gave him a small, tight smile.
“I’ll be brave for you, if you’ll be brave for me.”
“Will you be strong for me too?” I asked.
He lifted his arm and slapped his bicep. “They may shake and quake, but you can count on them.”
“You’ll stay with me until I’m done?”
Oliver settled back into his old spot. “Yes.”
I closed my eyes and thought of the list the cloaked female had given me.
But this time, I didn’t think of them as Miriam’s attributes.
I imagined them as Aspen might have when he was a little boy.
I used the images from the dream-walk of her death to sink into her presence, into a life I tried desperately to imagine.
The dream-walk started with darkness.
Then the body I invaded opened their eyes.
I would’ve screamed if I could. A male with massive black horns and blood-red eyes locked onto us, unblinking. His wavy brown hair framed gray skin rough as stone.
“Are you okay, my love?” the male asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
No, she was not. Everything hurt and throbbed, and her clothes were soaked through with sweat.
“What happened?” she said instead.
Her voice didn’t sound familiar to my ears, but I’d only heard Miriam once, and that was in Oliver’s head right before she died.
“You passed out from the pain.”
She turned her head toward the bedside table.
Hana?
The half-breed healer who had saved me in Elora stood beside the bed, appearing as short as I remembered, with the same scaly green skin and graying red hair. Though maybe fewer gray hairs. She held a small bundle in her arms.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes,” the male replied, running a cold hand down Miriam’s head and cupping her cheek tenderly. “You did well.”
Undeniable warmth and love filled us as she gazed at the male and reached up to place her hand over his. His red eyes crinkled, and I saw the love he had for her. She must’ve too, because her feelings flooded her, easing some of her pain.
“Do you want to hold him, Miriam?” Hana asked.
Him?
“Yes.”
Hana brought over the bundle of blankets, placing the warm, squirming weight in Miriam’s awaiting arms.
It was Aspen.
And the male standing beside us was not only Aspen’s father, but Miriam’s lover.
When my mother said Miriam used a greater demon to create Aspen, I had imagined a vile creature and a horrific scene of Miriam forcing herself on something grotesque.
I had not expected an adoring male who shared Aspen’s bone structure and the same hair.
“Look at him, Az. Look at what we created,” she whispered, completely enamored.
All the pain we felt before didn’t even touch the adoration and healing this baby gave Miriam.
Az smiled at us, then took hold of Aspen’s tiny hand. “I’m glad he’ll receive your eyes and not mine.”
She brushed her fingers against Az’s temple. “Even if they were red, I’d love them as much as I love yours.”
He gave us a small smile before returning his gaze to Aspen in wonder.
Aspen didn’t make a sound. He only stared up at us.
“She’ll come for him now.” Worry filled Hana’s voice.
“She will.” Miriam smoothed back the dark, wet curls on Aspen’s head. “You remember what I told you needs to be said, Az?”
“Yes.”
“Word for word. You can’t mix any of it up, or the future will change.”
“I know, my love. In five years, I’ll tell Lilith exactly what you told me to.”
Five years? He couldn’t mean—no. Did Miriam plan her death?
But as Miriam peered into his face, and I nearly drowned in the intensity of her sudden regret, I had a horrifying feeling my assumption was right.
She held out her hand. “Then give me my feather and bring her in.”
Azazahl pulled out a white feather with a black quill and handed it to her, while Hana opened the bedroom door.
“She’s ready for you,” Hana said to someone outside.
Miriam unwrapped Aspen and moved him so he rested on her chest. Once he was settled, Miriam lifted our gaze, and my heart stopped.
What the Heavenly Hell was going on?
It was her. The female from my head in the flesh, in the past. She wore the same billowing cloak, covering her head and features, swallowing her body in fabric.
“Are you prepared for what’s to come?” Miriam asked.
The cloaked female laughed, her same cocky tone grating on my ears.
Not Miriam’s, though. She felt… sad. More than sad.
Anguished. The moment the cloaked female walked through the door, it was like a switch had flipped.
All the happiness and love seeped out of her, replaced by a cold, horrifying realization. But of what?
“You know the answer to that, Miriam. You know the answer to… a lot. Things you could say that—”
“Careful,” Miriam warned. “I know what you’re doing. Don’t shake the foundation yet.”
The female sighed, holding out her wrist. “I will forever hate how convoluted and touchy time is. Let’s hurry this along—there are things I need to change.”
Azazahl stepped toward her and dragged a claw across her wrist, slicing her skin. Fisting her hand, she let her blood pool, then offered it to Miriam. Miriam dipped her feather into it.
The smallest seed of regret made her hand hesitate. But it was nothing compared to her determination and fierce motherly protectiveness. She placed the feather behind Aspen’s ear and carved.
Aspen wailed, big tears rolling down his plump cheeks. Yet she didn’t stop. Her blood-tipped feather scraped across his skin, connecting scrolling lines. After the final line, she drew back, and the rune mocked me with its familiar shape.
It was the Severance Rune the Doors of Moirai depicted. Half of Aspen’s power was hidden—blocked.
A blue light flared from the bloody rune, then vanished, taking the Severance Rune with it.
She carved the second rune, and time seemed to stop.
She waited in silence as an answer I never expected stared back at me from Aspen’s skin.
Azazahl, Hana, and the cloaked female watched Aspen’s back, expecting something to happen.
Aspen’s cries quieted. Time wound my nerves tighter.
Then the rune moved. It gathered, eliminating its defining edges until it became nothing more than a splotch of ink on his skin. The ink slid down his neck, and the moment it reached his spine, it bled into a familiar design.
Navy wings spread across baby Aspen’s back, visible for one second before fading like they had never been there at all.
Miriam put the guardian bond on Aspen using that female’s blood? Why? Who the hell was she?
“He will be bound until it’s time. We will never speak of this.
” Miriam gave a severe look to Azazahl and Hana.
Then she leveled an even harsher one at the female.
“Remember why you’re doing this. Because if you let your impatience win, it’ll all be for nothing, and you’ll live with what you’ve got. Understood?”
“Understood,” the female breathed. Bone-weary exhaustion weighed heavily in that single word. An emotion I’d never heard from her before.
“Will it work?” Azazahl asked.
“Unfortunately.”
You can tell her, yes, Lucille.
I startled. It was just like when I dream-walked into Oliver’s body and Miriam spoke into his mind. My brain hurt trying to understand the mechanics of it.
You have your answers.
Then, somehow, I was pushed from her head and into the darkness of mine—where she stood in all her cloaked, smug glory next to a flickering ball of purple and white flame.