Chapter 15
Killian
Killian slept well past sunrise. He was groggy when he rose, and his head pulsed at his temples. Slogging through his thoughts was like wading through mud. He sat on the edge of the single bed with his back to the window and waited for the fog in his mind to clear.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d slept so late.
Nearly every day of his adulthood had entailed waking at dawn, unless he had been up all night working on an investigation.
Or if he’d been out at a pub with Manny the night before.
Or when he’d gotten too drunk on magically enhanced ale that first night with Elyse at the Black Cat Tavern.
Her laugh—that was what he remembered about that night.
One side of his lips quirked up as he recalled how she’d thrown her head back and guffawed so loudly, so unabashedly.
It was the first time he’d made her laugh, the first glimpse he’d caught of her true self.
There’d been nothing ladylike about it, and nothing scheming or artificial.
It had been real, and it had changed everything.
And now he thought he’d never hear that sound again.
Ten minutes later, he was fully dressed in borrowed clothes and descending the stairs to the main room.
The tables were inhabited by strangers: mostly women, a mixture of girls Privya had taken in and those she was healing.
A few of them gave him wary looks as he crossed through the room.
He tried to offer them a smile, but it felt disingenuous.
He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and found his friends gathered around the counter.
Their conversation ceased and all eyes turned to him.
Manny stood beside Sera, both of them looking tired but better than they had the night before.
Privya, Corin, and Nina were there as well, standing across the counter from him.
They each seemed to visibly relax when they realized who he was.
He could guess who they’d been discussing in hushed voices before he entered.
“Good morning, Killian,” Privya called to him. She hadn’t yet braided her hair, and the loose black strands framed her thin face nicely. It humanized her in a way he’d never noticed before.
Nina came around the island and pulled Killian into a hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she breathed into his ear as she squeezed tight. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” When she pulled away, her eyes were swimming with worry, but she still smiled.
“You seem to be doing well,” Killian offered.
He meant it. Each time he saw her, she seemed more comfortable, more graceful.
She was growing into the woman she was meant to be.
“You cut your hair,” he remarked, reaching out to finger a light brown tress.
The sun had tinted it brighter than he remembered.
“It was too hot,” she remarked, running her fingers through hair that didn’t quite reach her shoulders. “This is much better.”
“It suits you,” Killian said.
“We made you a plate,” Corin cut in, indicating a plate of eggs and buttered bread. “And there’s tea if you like.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him, her freckles pinching together. It felt forced. In fact, the whole air in the room was tense, as if an unspoken truth hung around them.
“Do you have any black angelica?” Killian answered. He was craving something to help wake him up.
“I’ll have it ready for you in a few minutes,” Corin offered. She turned away and busied herself by rummaging in the cabinet.
Nina shoved the plate toward him in a wordless command, and Killian had no choice but to obey.
He sat on a stool at the edge of the counter—right in the very spot where he’d hoisted Elyse onto the ledge and…
Well, fucked her. That was not something he wanted to think about first thing in the morning. He needed tea—badly.
Killian spread a spoonful of preserves onto a slice of bread while everyone else in the room watched him silently. He let the quiet fester for a moment, seeing if anyone would break. When no one did, he asked, “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”
Manny and Sera exchanged concerned looks. Nina glanced down at her hands, studying her fingernails, and Corin moved very slowly, as if she could go unnoticed.
It was Manny who finally said, “You mean how Elyse looked right at us, decided we weren’t worth the effort to transport thirty yards, and left us to fend for ourselves?” He shrugged. “What’s there to talk about?”
Killian dropped his bread on the plate in a huff. Before he could speak, Sera chimed in.
“There’s nothing to be done. She’s not herself. We can’t reason with her or appeal to her emotions. She doesn’t have any.”
Killian’s brows pressed together as his gaze flickered between Sera and Manny. They sat with slumped shoulders and heavy eyes. They seemed unfazed by Elyse’s betrayal—willing to accept it, even. Was he the only one tortured by her new, unbearable personality?
“It’s unacceptable,” he ground out. He waved his hand at Sera. “She was your best friend and you—what? Tolerate this behavior? You could have died last night and she wouldn’t have shed a tear. You have no problem putting that aside?”
“I didn’t say I condone it,” Sera retorted, a bite to her voice. “This isn’t easy for me either. But it happened, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.”
“But we can change her,” Killian stressed, his voice rising. “We can reunite her with her soul. We can bring back the old Elyse.”
“How?” Manny asked. His voice was steady, the question calm. There was no judgment, just a single word, plain and simple.
“I don’t know, but there has to be a way.” Killian ran a hand over his stubbled chin—it had been a week now since he’d shaved and the itchiness was maddening.
Sera replied, “We don’t even know how to begin. And she’s not going to cooperate. She doesn’t want to go back to how she was.”
“You don’t know that,” Killian hurled back.
“Yes, we do,” Manny answered. “She has no remorse, no empathy, no understanding of why she needs her humanity back.” There was pity in his eyes as he regarded Killian. It was the same look he’d given him the last time they’d been in this kitchen together, when he’d found him with Elyse.
Killian threw up his hands. “So you’re giving up on her?”
“No,” Sera said. She sounded exhausted. “I’ll never give up on her. But I don’t see any solution right now, and I’m not surprised that she abandoned us last night. What do you want us to do? Put her in time-out like a child? Tell her she hurt my feelings?”
Anger rose inside Killian like the water steaming inside the kettle. “I don’t accept that.” He turned to Privya, who watched him with one brow arched. “Can’t you do something? Can’t you—”
“What, grow a new soul?” she asked, amusement coating the cynicism in her deep voice.
Killian opened his mouth to retort, but the door behind him swung open.
Elyse stood on the threshold, palm pressed flat against the door.
Her face was still pale, but she wore clean clothes and looked refreshed—except for the scowl that tainted her features.
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to.
That expression was like a predator’s claws, announcing her deadliness.
She made sure each of them had a chance to note her silent warning before stepping into the kitchen.
She seemed to have recovered well. Her gait was normal, if a bit slow.
The kettle over the hearth began to screech. A flustered Corin turned to it and snatched it from its hook, halting its shrill cry. She poured the steaming water into an awaiting mug.
Privya eyed Elyse with a wry smile. “How’s my favorite patient feeling?”
Instead of answering, Elyse strode to the counter. She waved her hand and beckoned the mug from Corin’s hand, which was now filled with hot water. Without spilling a drop, the mug landed in front of her on the counter. Corin looked displeased, but she made for the cabinet to retrieve a new mug.
Elyse looked toward Sera and asked, “Citronascia?”
Sera shook her head. “I don’t have any.”
Elyse huffed and moved toward the cabinet beside the hearth, where Killian knew a cache of various teas was stowed.
He hadn’t seen her drinking citronascia—the bitter tea that provided basic magical protections—but he had no doubt that she had taken it every morning.
He had even less doubt that she would be in a fearsome mood without her usual defenses.
Killian was about to open his mouth to confront Elyse about the previous night’s behavior when Manny said loudly, “I have a question, Elyse.”
Elyse glowered over her shoulder from where she rummaged through the box of teas. “And I have a statement: it’s idiotic to announce one’s question instead of simply asking it.” She went back to searching in the cabinet.
Manny shifted his weight. “Why didn’t Lazarus kill you last night?”
Admittedly, Killian had wondered the same thing. He momentarily put aside his desire to confront Elyse and traded it for curiosity.
When Elyse didn’t turn around, Manny continued. “He could easily kill you, couldn’t he? But he was pulling his punches.” He pivoted toward her, awaiting the answer. “And why bother with the birds? Why not just destroy the city altogether?”
Apparently having finally selected a tea, Elyse rotated to face the group.
She carried the small linen bag to where her mug sat waiting on the counter but didn’t meet any of their gazes.
She plunked the bag into the still-steaming water and dipped its string several times.
Eventually she asked, “You really don’t understand, do you? ”
Manny shrugged.