Chapter 20
Twenty
- CYRUS -
Clenching my eyes shut, I slam my head back against the edge of the porcelain bathtub I’m lying in. “Get out,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
I can’t hear him. But his presence—like a shadow contorting through a thick fog—shifts ever closer.
My nails bite into my palms as I smash my head back again. Harder this time. To the point that pain explodes in my head, warning me that any harder and I might crack my own skull.
Through that suffocating fog, something creeps forward—an elongated, gnarled black hand ending in sharp claws.
Lurching up quick enough to slosh the bathwater out of the tub, my eyes flash open. My fingers grip the sides of the tub.
My fingers.
Working to steady the erratic slam of my heartbeat, I wipe the wet hair clinging to my temple off behind my ear.
The bathwater is cold. It was warm a minute ago when I first slipped in.
Or has it only been a minute?
I unplug the drain and rise, assessing my body. Not even a hint of scales marks my flesh.
It’s just the stress getting to you, I try to convince myself and push my worry away.
I step out of the bathtub and rub my body down with a towel, leaving my long hair last to tousle through. I snag a pair of loose dark pants from my closet, tug my legs into them, and secure them at my waist when I stop dead in front of the mirror.
There’s not a way to describe the sound of its sickening, curled smile. It’s like leather being stretched, only it gives me the chills as if someone dragged a cold blade up my spine.
“Cyrussss,” it hisses. Its slitted eyes have taken over mine in the mirror.
Rather than ducking away from my own reflection or scurrying out of the bathroom, I widen my stance. Not allowing myself to shift my eyes off the creature staring back at me in the mirror.
“I said get out,” I growl in warning.
Its hiss of a chuckle echoes around the room. My heart sinks when my serpent-eyed reflection moves on its own. Across the three massive mirrors perched atop the bathroom vanity.
A damning hint, if I know any better. By partnering with Lady Bethany and following her suggestions, I’ve been able to keep the beast at bay. But if it's here, stretching beyond the confines of my head…
We’re in far deeper than we’ve realized.
It stops at the farthest mirror, cocking its head to the side at an inhuman angle as it regards what’s there on the counter.
The handkerchief.
Spotted with blood.
Its eyes dilate rapidly, pupils quivering with feral anticipation.
I stride forward, swiping the handkerchief off the counter and shoving it into my pocket. “You are not welcome here. I will not tell you to leave again.”
It laughs, a sound deep and deranged, as my reflection grins back at me with razor-tipped teeth. “Without me, you’d be dead. And this is how you treat me?”
I turn my back to it, walking for the bathroom exit.
“Do not turn your back on me!” it roars, shaking the mirrors.
I freeze. The magic cooling the blood in my veins and slowly tugging me back to the mirrors. I follow the thread, and the beast’s eyes narrow.
“You will never be rid of me. Your little peasants might think they can save you, that they can cage me. But cages can be bent. Can be broken.”
I snap into action at the threat. Thundering across the room, as soon as I’m within range I pull back a fist and slam it into the mirror.
Shattering it into a web of slivers that collapse onto the bathroom counter, some sliding off onto the marbled floor.
Blood drips off my knuckles and I shake it off as my reflection appears in the mirror next to me.
This time, it’s more than just slitted eyes. Scales shifting black to gray have taken over the image of me, covering the jaw line, side of the throat, shoulders, and sides of the torso. It leans closer to the glass. “You cannot stop me, and you cannot run from me. I see them through your eyes.”
I squeeze my eyes shut at the reveal, haunted by the thought that not only have I put these women in danger with the trials…but there’s something even worse.
Me.
“Stop!” I snarl, flashing my eyes open to glare at my reflection.
The beast rolls its head back, pulling in a long inhale. When it drops its head, its eyes are completely enveloped in black. “I can smell them. All the women you’ve brought to me for reaping.”
I punch the mirror again, adamant to block the creature out. Partly worried it may be strong enough to break through the glass entirely.
Its laughter surrounds me. I glance around as the sound bounces around the room—the tub, the closet, the ceiling. Like it’s slithering there in some unseen dimension.
“I’ll take them one by one so you feel their pain, their fear,” it whispers sinisterly as it creeps onto the last mirror.
It raises a black, taloned hand. Tapping it on the mirror until the glass squeaks and the tiniest crack appears, it smiles. Revealing fangs. “But if you just cooperate with me? Let me loose for a night, Cyrus, and I’ll give you the most powerful kin this realm has ever seen.”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near them!” I scream as I shatter the last mirror. Pain splits through my fist as the glass rains down. As I lower my hand to my side, the room only filled with my heavy breathing, I scan the glass shards spilled out across the counter and floor.
It's quiet. Still.
Swallowing my breath, I turn my back to the mirror.
My bloody-knuckled hand contorts, fingers fighting to break free of the fist I have them in. Until I fold into myself as my fingers spring free, stretching into painfully long claws.
I clench my wrist with my free hand, squeezing like it’ll cut off the blood flow and stop the transformation. It slows, but…
I race out of the bathroom for my bedroom door, barely twisting the handle open as I fall to my knees with the pain bending my very veins.
“Call upon Lady Bethany!” I scream.
Several guards grab me by the arms as more race down the staircase, following our protocol. They drag me across the floor back to the farthest wall near my bed, my body contorting on its own as my clawed hand slips into my pocket.
Right to where that handkerchief is.
He’s getting stronger. Perhaps it's inevitable.
He pulls that stained handkerchief out, my arm shaking as I brace against him like the strongest swell of the ocean.
Every movement is jerky, like he rewires my entire body just to pull the fabric to my nose.
I snap my head away, forcing myself to remain still as my guards clamp the shackles around my ankles, then my wrists.
My hand contorts again. This time, shifting back to my own.
He’s no match for dragonfused shackles.
I feel him hissing in the corners of my mind. Feel how he slithers away, surrendering control. I sag back against the wall into the comforts of the chains. My breath is quick and my eyes flutter closed.
Almost out of breath, I hear Lady Bethany’s voice across the room. “My King?”
Drained beyond shaking my head with my eyes closed, I murmur, “It was here, Lady Bethany.”
There’s a moment of quiet before scattered footfalls enter the room. A warm hand cups my cheek. Followed by someone forcing my eyelid open. Lady Bethany is crouching in front of me, checking my eyes. Assessing.
Most of my guards leave the room and shut the bedroom door, while Devin stands back with other soldiers.
“It was in the mirror, this time. And…” I suck in a breath and look down at my bloody hand. “It spread to my hand.”
Lady Bethany drops her gaze to the rest of my body. “No scales, though?” When I shake my head, she prompts more. “No tail, horns, wings, nothing?”
“No. The reflection held more transformations than my body did.”
“He’s testing you, Cyrus. Checking for weak points where he might be able to break through—” she pauses. Then gingerly picks the handkerchief on my abdomen up by the corner, squinting at it. “What is this?”
“I can smell them. All the women you’ve brought to me for reaping.” The memory of his threat rolls over me with a chill.
“My handkerchief I used for Lyra’s bloody nose earlier tonight. He said he could smell them.”
She stands slowly, pocketing the handkerchief with knitted eyebrows. When she turns her attention back to me, her expression is deadly serious. “I can give you a temporary concoction so he can’t venture outside your mind. But it’s up to you to overpower and keep him there.”
“Whatever,” I rasp. “Whatever it takes to keep him away.”
Yet that lingering doubt comes to the forefront of my mind.
But what if you can’t?