Chapter 26 This Always Ends with You Dead And Intertwined
This Always Ends with You
Dead And Intertwined
Lucian
E
dward’s body deteriorates rapidly. I anoint it with a balm Wendy made, meant to preserve him long enough for her to bring him back. His skin is loose and cold beneath my hands, and I struggle to believe she can give him life again—let alone Azaire.
When the door cracks open, I throw a blanket over Edward—as though it will hide the stench. It’s Desdemona who steps into the room, and I clutch the end of the blanket tighter in case she chooses to tear it away.
“Need help?” she asks, eyes on the blanket.
Without a word, I hand her a jar of the balm.
She accepts it, anointing Edward without a word—or a grimace.
I think of her journals. She dreamt of murder repeatedly until she actually committed it.
I might have been the one to take care of the body.
I’m still unsure if that’s true or not, or the extent of the journals.
Yet there are plenty of ways to find out.
“You were raised septic,” I say, and she glances up sharply.
I can almost hear her racing heart. Although she says nothing, her eyes—wide and scared—tell me it’s not a lie. Everything I read and saw myself in was true.
I set the balm down, keeping my voice low. “Tell me.”
Desdemona shakes her head, looking away. “The last time I did, you told the entire school. People were hunting me.”
It’s no surprise, though what startles me is that I said a word about it, especially knowing what I know about her now, after reading her journal. We are kindred spirits, perhaps in the worst of ways.
Nothing good will come of us. There’s no reason to get close, intertwined, with an Arcane whom I have to kill. Yet I fear it’s already happening. She’s seeping into me, my very blood, staining me in her shade. From the first moment I looked at her, I saw something more than I wanted.
Is that the trick? The danger? Kindred spirit or enemy, I once thought, but when I look at her now, I see both.
Goddess of beauty, goddess of war. A dangerous and deadly thing I can’t stay away from.
A poison I can’t help but crave. She is my born enemy, yet I lap her up like a thirsty animal.
That’s how I want her, as well—something deep and carnal. Beyond logic—beyond better thought.
She’s the trap, and I’m ensnared. She’s the cage, and I’m gilding it.
“You were hunted because of me?” I ask.
She glances at me, finally, her eyes sharp. “Your words.”
“Why not admit it now?”
“You’re still a prince.”
“And you’re an Arcane,” I say, focusing on the task at hand as I spread balm over Edward’s loose skin. “If you wanted, I’d be dead.”
“That’d ruin the rest of my life,” Desdemona says with a small shrug. “Which is forever, by the way. Why would I do that?”
Softly, I say, “Why would I harm you?”
“Is that a joke?” she asks, running her index finger along the edge of the balm jar. “Half the time you’re hurting me.”
“Only half?” I ask, deflecting. “I can correct that.”
Desdemona barks out a laugh. “You’re sick in the head.”
She doesn’t know how right she is about that.
“For you,” I say, meeting her gaze, “clearly.”
She scowls. “Maybe I should kill you.”
“If you use your hands, I won’t stop you.”
Her brows lower as she looks me up and down. “Look,” she says, “we’re allies for the time being. But anything beyond this… you know as well as I do.” Desdemona frowns, stepping back. “We’re nothing.”
I force myself to nod, to agree with her.
We will never work. We aren’t made to. Yet I would gladly wear shackles, gladly lock myself away, for the mere possibility of trying.
For the simple idea of her, I would damn myself—and I already am.
When this ends, I’ll remember her for the rest of my life… and I will have never had her.
“Duly noted,” I say. “We’re nothing.”
I wish she would say it again, just so I could feel the pain. If hurt is all we share, I’ll drink it dry.
?
Again—and again and again and again—I open the journal, a flicker snatching my mind. I reach into my pocket to spin my wolf—
That’s what’s flashing in my mind.
With my hand in my empty pocket, I see her—a woman beneath me—orange hair, closed eyes. It has to be Desdemona. I’m afraid for her. There’s a wound somewhere vital, I know that, though I can’t see it. I wrap the wound with my shirt—
My door creaks open, the image gone. In a heartbeat, I’m on my feet, seizing a boy by the nape of his neck before he can bolt. As I force him to face me, I gasp. “Jermoine?”
I haven’t seen him in ages—not since he lost his arms in a fight at the academy and was promptly sent away.
I’m unsure why he’d be back.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough and unexpectedly high. I glance down, his arms gone. For a moment, I remember how it happened. A fire, I think. The memory flickers out.
“What are you doing back?” I ask. Last I’d heard he was in intense therapy.
“I’m Yuki’s new roommate. I wanted to say hello.” Jermoine looks down, magic flickering across his face. A glamour, I believe. As I take him in, I realize it isn’t just his face. It cloaks his entire body. “Couldn’t stay in my old room, not after Breck.”
I release his neck, uncertainty creeping in. This could be Jermoine, or someone wearing his body, though I try to push past the glamour.
His eyes flare, irises glowing violet.
I clear my throat and look away.
“How are you doing?” I ask, gauging whether or not this is truly Jermoine. “With Breck’s…”
“I don’t know.” Jermoine shrugs, the motion heavy. “Death is rampant, especially for those in power.” He exhales, shaking his head. “How are you? I heard about Zaire.”
I take a deep breath. Jermoine or not, I never know how to answer properly.
Am I supposed to bare my soul for all to see?
Tell them every step hurts more than the last?
That I don’t believe time will heal this wound?
How can I admit I’m prepared to break every single universal law in the hope I can hear his voice one last time?
There’s no way to describe the feeling of having the person you loved most completely erased from existence.
“It gets better,” I tell him, watching his shoulders ease and his expression soften. I can’t tell if it’s relief at hearing me speak of the friend he lost, or if whoever is hiding believes they’ve escaped my notice. “If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”
“Sure, man.”
?
Stepping into Yuki’s room, I sit on Azaire’s bed, my gaze settling on the desk where I’ve watched him work countless times. The very desk he would be seated at now, were he still alive.
“What are you going to do with Zaire’s things?” I ask. I’ve never asked before.
“Leave them where they are,” Yuki answers. “This is his room, too.”
“What about Jermoine’s belongings?”
“Jermoine?” Yuki’s voice raises a pitch. “He’s coming back?”
My head tilts. “He’s already here,” I say.
Yuki frowns, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him.”
“Huh,” I mutter, zoning out on Azaire’s desk. Could someone else be hidden beneath the glamour?
“I know it’s messed up to say… but I didn’t think the academy would let him back.” I glance at Yuki, who just shrugs. “He was a mentalist, and they have hundreds of those, with arms, too.”
“He could still—”
Yuki raises his hands. “I don’t agree. But I’m here to serve. That’s just how these things go, and I’ve seen it firsthand. Besides, you and I both know they wouldn’t let a Drae room with a Folk.”
You’re more than a Drae, I want to say. You’re my advisor. Though I don’t know what good being my advisor does him anymore. There’s a reason Azaire and Yuki were roommates—a Nepenthe and a Drae.
“I had another question.” I clear my throat, the words catching.
“Yeah?”
“The thing missing in my mind…” I meet his gaze. “I’m seeing her in bits.”
I think of the image I saw earlier—Desdemona beneath me, bleeding.
“I need to reach it,” I finish.
I need to know.
Draes are mental beings, capable not only of reading minds but also of stealing the abilities of other magic-wielders. Yuki is the most adept at uncovering my buried memories, where Cynthia had failed.
His purple irises glow as he stares at me, already willing to help. “Your wards are up again,” he says.
“Push past them.” I close my eyes. “I won’t fight you.”
Not only do I not fight, but I picture Desdemona. She’s the one who’s fractured me—torn down my wards and let others in. She’s the only thing that can break me.
I see her. Not just her, but her asleep in my bed. Smiling when she looks at me and asking what I’m looking at. I want to see that smile again—it’s treacherous to think I never will.
I let her tear down my defenses, the cracks in my mind she shattered crumbling.
Yuki winces, and I open my eyes. He’s clutching his temples.
“There’s something there,” he breathes. “But it’s blocked.”
“Try again,” I say. “Try something else.”
Anything else.
Yuki sighs, and I close my eyes again. This time I see Desdemona beneath Leiana.
I’m telling her to run, but she stays and fights with me.
Fights for me. These are my own memories—as if the old ones don’t matter.
As if, in time, she will come to mean to me exactly as she once had.
Like we are inevitable. Destined. Doomed to repeat past mistakes.
Yuki shouts.
When I look at him, his eyes are bloodshot. He shakes his head, baring his teeth. “You need a Lyrian.”
“I already tried with Cynthia,” I say, heart racing, desperate. “If I can push it to the surface, you can see it. Use the Folks’ memory power.”
“It’s not my power that’s stopping me,” Yuki hisses. “It’s yours. It’s protecting you.”
“My power has no idea what safety means.” I clench my jaw and close my eyes. “When I say.”
I see blood, skin, red hot fire—it’s all there, waiting to be reached for. A girl in danger. My fear for her. For Desdemona.
“Go.”
The Lunar Lake glimmers in front of me, and a dead man lies beside it. Something sharp grazes my throat. Skin again, but the feeling of this skin—it’s like power. I can’t contain it. There’s a deep desire to hold on forever.
“Fuck!” Yuki shouts.
“Did you get it?” I ask instantly, opening my eyes.
“No!” Yuki raises his hands, shaking as if unsure what to do with them. He slaps the wall beside him. “Kind of. Just bits and pieces… like a mosaic.”
“What was it?”
“There was a wound.” Yuki shrugs. “Like a seriously ghastly one. All burnt and everything. You held whoever was bleeding.”
That’s what I was seeing—the fear I was feeling. “Do it one more time,” I say. “I can pinpoint it.”
“Dude,” Yuki sighs. “It hurts. Like melting my brain.”
“One more,” I beg.
He breathes heavily. “I can’t.”
“Just try—”
“I can’t, Lucian!” Yuki screams louder than I’ve ever heard him.