Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Madness adapts faster than you do.
MALACH
There are two spikes embedded in my skull, one on each side, drilling in excruciating tandem.
I open my mouth and reach for Celine, then list to the side.
The room tilts.
Her brown eyes widen, fingers grazing mine.
Then I fall, crashing into something on the way down.
I hear furniture break—more sharp pressure against my throbbing head—then Celine is leaning over me, hands on my cheeks, worry in her eyes.
Her lips move, but I can’t hear her over the roaring in my head.
Agony sears my hip, and I clench my jaw tight to keep from crying out. Angry. So angry. I press my fingers to the spot, desperate for relief, but there’s none to be had.
Hands touch me again, gentle but frantic. They grope at the buttons on my shirt. No, I can’t let her take it off. I link her fingers with mine and drag them to my temples. “Hurts,” I whisper.
Others join us. Someone waves their arms. Luca, maybe? Someone else shines a light in my eyes. Their conversation is too garbled for me to make out. It might as well be in a language I’ve never heard before. How did this happen?
I followed Celine into the bedroom to check on her. She was upset about Luca’s reaction to bonding with her. My plan was to listen, and I think I did that, so what happened? When I try to remember, I only find more layers of pain.
Someone places a cool, damp piece of fabric on my forehead, then Celine slides a finger between my pursed lips, opening my mouth enough to pour in a pungent liquid.
I swallow instinctively, although I’m doubtful that a witch-made potion can cure what’s wrong with me. It provides one small mercy, though, making my thoughts slow and dull enough for drowsiness to steal the bite from the pain.
I drift off with Celine’s hand in mine, dark vines dragging me into unconsciousness. The last thing I hear before everything fades away is a deep voice, whispering, “Shhhhhh.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“Honest to gods, he looked possessed.”
“Be quiet! He needs to rest.”
“But why? He slept last night. He’s eaten today. No injuries to heal from—”
“I know, but it doesn’t change what happened.”
“What were you talking about before he fell?”
“I’m not even sure. I was upset. He asked if I was okay.”
“In what language?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know if it does. I’m just asking questions.”
“Ask fewer questions for a few minutes. That scared me to death.”
“No shit! His head spun around in a full circle, hot wings.”
“It did not. Don’t exaggerate.”
“I don’t want to minimize anything, but people get headaches,” Luca says. “That’s pretty normal. Maybe he didn’t drink enough water.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Celine sighs. “I’ve never seen an angel get a headache like that.”
It takes time, but eventually I become aware of my body beyond their hushed conversation.
I’m lying down on something soft. Someone must have put me on the bed.
There’s no glow pressing against my eyelids, so they must have turned the magical lights off.
The cloth on my forehead is the same temperature as my skin.
I’ve been here for a while, but they haven’t left me alone. They care. I want to bask in the knowledge, but reality won’t let me. How can I explain this?
Celine’s fingers cup my cheek, and her thumb strokes the corner of my mouth. “Malach, are you awake?”
I kiss her fingertip and beg my eyes to open.
“He’s fine.” Ciprian sighs. “See? He’s flirting.”
“Did you learn to whisper in a football stadium?” Luca asks. “Seriously, Ciprian, I’ve never heard anyone talk so loud.”
Ciprian dares Luca to bite him, and a scuffle breaks out.
My eyes crack open in time to see Alistair herding them out of the room. He shoves them both out and closes the door. “Figure something out for food,” he tells them, before turning to stare at me.
His brow is furrowed, two deep lines etched above his nose. My stomach churns. Ciprian and Luca may have been loud, but I could use the distraction. Alistair looks determined.
“Are you okay?” Celine asks.
I focus on her and force a smile. “Headaches are terrible.” It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth. If I tried to tell her—I wince as another wave of pain rolls through me.
“Malach, that was bad,” Celine says. “Has this been happening often?” Her brown eyes are sincere, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
I glance away, unintentionally falling into Alistair’s gaze like an animal caught in a trap. “I haven’t had any water today,” I say.
Celine stands. “I’ll go get you some. You’ve got to take better care of yourself, okay? That was scary.”
I nod, embracing the wave of pain the movement causes. I deserve to hurt. Gods, I deserve ten times worse. I open my mouth, desperate, then choke on my own spit.
Ali rushes to my side and helps me sit up. “Do you wish her harm?” he asks.
My head snaps up, and I frown, shaking my head violently. “Never.”
He nods slowly as Celine returns with the water, blue eyes trailing over me, searching for cracks or clues or gods know what. As I drink the water, his stare never falters. I brace for accusations. Alistair suspects something, but he keeps his mouth closed.
This is torture. I should never have come for her.
I tell her to leave me, that I’ll feel better after a nap. She frowns, but listens, and soon I’m alone in the room and drowning in regret.
My miscalculation will hurt Celine, but it will destroy me. There’s no comfort to be had. I drink my water and curse myself for my arrogance. My truth, my word, our betrothal vows—I believed we could defeat any evil if we worked together.
I thought our magic would be enough. But I was wrong. Hopelessly na?ve. He was right all along, and I’ll never even get a chance to make it up to her.