Chapter Forty-Five
B efore transportation arrived for the rest of us, Emilia got herself together and dragged me over to an area that concealed our private conversation.
“That light coming from your hands, was that the first time?” she inquired.
After everything that had happened tonight, all she cared about was the light from my hands? Was she not sobbing hysterically for Cillian possibly being dead moments ago? I had no desire for this conversation. All I wanted was to get the hell out of here and go see Josh in the infirmary. But judging by her stern expression, she wasn’t going to let this go. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Never?” she echoed.
I sighed, frustrated. “No, never. I’m assuming the others are aware since I blasted the light in front of them.”
“Some are, but I already threatened them not to say anything.”
I backpedaled. “Uh, why?”
“We may work for the Lord, but we don’t trust everyone involved.”
“Then what’s the point? Why even bother fighting the same battle if you can’t even trust the ones who are supposed to have your back?”
Emilia shook her head. “It wasn’t always like that. Just recently, I’ve noticed a shift in the Order. Right now, try to lay low and don’t tell anyone.”
“Or what? They’re going to shun me for having power?”
“For too much power. They will use you as a weapon. They will push aside your feelings and who you are as a person just to exhaust your power, even if it kills you.”
The lights in the infirmary were harsh, causing uncomfortable specks in my vision as I tried to adjust. Recovering from a concussion wasn’t an easy feat.
Josh rested with tubes and needles that either penetrated his skin or were shoved up his nose, keeping him stable as he healed. I had no recollection of time. All that mattered from the moment I went to bed to the time I awoke the next day was monitoring Josh. A few times, I left to see Heather, explaining to deaf ears what happened, crying nearly to the point of making myself sick. Nurse Amelia had to escort me out, forcing me to drink water and eat saltine crackers. But I had no appetite when my guardian hadn’t opened his eyes in days, anxiety stealing my sleep and hunger.
I could use a shot of my dad’s whiskey right about now.
Sometimes, Baron and Chloe stopped by to keep me company, and even Collin visited, stating Father Benedict encouraged him to read me some of Juniper’s history while we sat, but I couldn’t process any of the words he spoke. Not when Josh slept, afraid I might miss a twinge or a jerk of a finger.
Cillian was transported to a special infirmary, his injuries much more complex. Emilia left shortly after and would remain wherever her guardian resided until he made a full recovery.
No word if he was awake yet.
Captain Harrison was updated on the events, stating he could’ve sworn our coordinates weren’t his doing and wanted a full investigation. Thatcher nearly killed him. Dean Poverly had to come between them before her right hook connected to his face. Chloe gave me all the details, claiming at one point, Thatcher had Captain Harrison by the collar, almost choking him out.
Debriefings resumed, training commenced, but I didn’t dare move from my spot, stroking Josh’s hand, wishing for him to open his eyes.
October arrived shortly after, and autumn leaves started to show in Central Park.
I’d been dodging Nickie’s calls. From how constantly I’d been receiving them, along with lengthy texts asking if I’d heard from or seen him was nothing short of worry seeping through my phone. Any excuse I could think of for Josh’s absence fell short, and it was better to ignore than rather deal now.
Thatcher visited me, sitting on the opposite side, only to inform me that if I didn’t resume my training, I would fall behind.
I almost told her to fuck off, but fighting wouldn’t do me any good. And I hated to admit it, but she was right. Josh would have my head on a platter if he knew I stopped my training just to wither away while he healed.
Maybe a quick run on the treadmill would help ease some of the tension and might even give me a better night’s sleep instead of staring wide awake at the ceiling for hours.
At least the nightmares had stayed away.
I pushed a few locks of Josh’s hair away from his forehead and kissed his cheek, hoping my time away would speed up his recovery.
Making my way through the ground floor, I tried to theorize what had happened when the golden light shot out of my hands. Of course, no other incident had occurred, but to shoot actual golden light from my hands, to incinerate every Azroneg in its path? Everyone involved, or who had seen the light from my hands, kept quiet, fibbing the report enough to show everyone did their part in slaying the demons.
Emilia wasn’t kidding that she’d threatened them. I guess being the highest-ranking Scarlet in history had its perks, especially knowing one personally. Plus, she was fucking scary.
I tried unsuccessfully to recreate the feeling leading up to those moments in my dorm room, just to see if a faint glow would appear, and so far, nothing worked. Maybe it was a one-time thing. Maybe the Lord himself granted me a single ounce of holy power to save everyone and then took it away.
Or maybe I’d gone insane.
Desperate for answers, I made a pit stop by the library, combing through the shelves, hoping to find anything on God-like power or Scarlets having otherworldly abilities.
I scoured books upon books about different weapons, demons, and even bloodlines, and yet I found nothing remotely close to powers.
Giving up and deciding to get my ass into gear and train again, I spotted Father Benedict at one end of the room reading a book, whispering as he held his white rosary beads to his chest.
We hadn’t spoken in a couple of weeks or even discussed the prophecy. Everything was put on the back burner, and I wondered if he was still searching for answers—better yet, for Father Abraham.
I approached, and he looked up and smiled. “Remi, how are you?”
“Okay, I guess. It’s been a while since we crossed paths,” I commented, noticing facial hair had begun to grow around his mouth.
“Yes, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I know Josh will recover.”
His confidence was enough for both of us. “Have you gotten word from Father Abraham?”
He closed his book, returning it to the shelf. “No. It concerns me greatly, and I have reached out to other priests, hoping they spoke to him before his disappearance.”
“I’m guessing no word on those either?”
He shook his head, pulling out another thick text. “I’m afraid his end was near, and it took him before anyone could know.”
A heavy weight of sadness sank into my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“The Lord takes when he knows it’s time.”
But he could also give…? Do I risk asking? Emilia made it clear to lay low, but what if Father knew of a Scarlet who had the same ability as me? It might help to understand better what ancestor’s blood ran through my veins. “Father, were there any known Scarlets to have… powers?”
“Powers?”
“Specifically golden light shooting from their palms?”
Father Benedict looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “Records show no sign of such. Do you know of someone who has?”
I gazed down at my palms, wondering how much I should reveal, if anything at all. How could I explain that for just a couple of seconds, warm, golden light fired from my hands, killing everything in its path? I chose the latter. “I always wondered if Scarlets had more than what was Blessed to them.”
He considered my words and lightly touched my shoulder. “I believe some are chosen to fight a greater evil, more so than what others constantly face.”
“What a burden to carry,” I mumbled.
“But what a Blessing it can be.”