Chapter 53 #2
Instead of trying to understand the question, I just say, “Chiron?” and he nods and leaves through the smoke.
The other demon, his sword in hand, remains where he is.
He glares at me, clearly doubting my intent regardless of whatever the other said.
I wobble as I wait, focusing on not allowing my knees to buckle.
Somehow, I must still look dangerous because he doesn’t sheath the sword and seems poised to strike.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the other to come back with a demon I recognize as Chiron.
As he gets close, Chiron wrinkles his nose and says to me in strongly accented words, “You’re bleeding.”
It’s not a question, but I nod.
“You need healing?” he asks abruptly.
I nod again.
Without another word, he walks away. I glance at the guards, silently asking permission of the one with the drawn sword. He sheaths it in response, so I follow Chiron.
He leads me to a small room and begins to gather things from a large cabinet. “Strip,” he says, the accent still rough but his meaning clear.
I remove my clothing, leaning one hand against the wall for balance as needed.
When he turns around, his eyes start slowly at my face and trail down to my thighs, his face blank. “What…” he says, gesturing as though he wants to ask more but can’t think of the words. “How did this happen to you?” he asks without looking away from the makeshift bandage at my side.
I shake my head briefly without responding.
“Not going to tell me?” he asks. His accent makes it more difficult to understand the tone, but he sounds irritated.
I shake my head in agreement.
He seems to consider for a moment, but without pushing me further for an answer, he begins to tend to my injuries. Occasionally, he steadies me, and I gladly accept the support. After a bit, I let my mind wander, going somewhere else, away from the pain.
Eventually, he finishes, and I look down to see a neat bandage wrapped around my entire torso, along with bandages wrapped around the top of each of my arms and each of my legs. He’s cleaning up at a basin at the back of the room.
“Stitches don’t hold well there,” he grumbles.
“I noticed,” I say quietly.
When he finishes washing up, he hands me a small tin. “Leave the bandages on for three days. When you remove them, apply that daily for the next three days,” he says. He looks at me as though to check my understanding and then gestures to my clothes on the floor, silently telling me to get dressed.
I stay where I am and say, “I need something else.”
He says something in the guttural language that doesn’t sound kind.
I persevere.
“Malam is indisposed, but some work he began, which is important to me, remains unfinished,” I say to him evenly. I can tell that I have his attention.
“What work?” he asks.
“I have a few acquaintances who are attempting to learn weather magic in order to strike back against the angels. Malam has been guiding them.”
I watch as Chiron’s eyes narrow slightly. “Humans?” he growls.
“Yes.”
“How well do they speak our language?” he asks, and the unkindness is clear in his voice this time.
“I don’t believe they do.”
“Well then, there is nothing I can do. Those who might help them don’t speak their language, so we are at an impasse,” he says as he begins to turn away.
Some memory, likely one of Malam’s, pulls at me, and I respond to his back as he walks away, “But you speak the language and I suspect you know weather magic.” I modulate my tone carefully.
He freezes, and I see his body tense. A laugh that is certainly not kind bursts from his throat. “You are a crazy one if you think I will get involved with humans.”
I ignore the attempt at an insult and say, “Perhaps that’s how your people got to this point.”
He reels back like I slapped him, and glares at me.
I maintain eye contact, silently begging whatever deity is available at the moment for help with this.
Suddenly, as though someone literally speaks to him from above, he closes his eyes as a shudder runs through his body.
When he opens them, most of the anger and disgust is gone.
“You make a valid point,” he says more quietly.
He remains quiet for a few moments as he seems to consider.
“I will help, but I will not have them summoning me at all hours. If they are committed to doing this, it will be on a regular schedule. I will arrive promptly at ten each evening and stay for as long as I like. You will inform them of this.”
I nod, silently thanking the deity.
“Get dressed,” he says roughly.
I carefully and slowly pull on my clothes. Once I’m dressed, he walks out of the room and I follow. I hesitate when he continues past the path I remember, which leads to the lift.
Seeming to sense my hesitation, he says, “I’ll take you.”
I nod and continue after him.
As we walk into a small clearing, he stops and turns toward me while holding out his hand. I step forward and take it without pause. “Show me,” he says.
Without needing further instruction, I close my eyes and picture the street in front of the boys’ mansion. A moment later, I open my eyes to shadows and the sound of wings in flight wrapping around us, and then, just as suddenly, it fades and reveals the side of the boys’ mansion.
Chiron releases my hand and takes a step back. I look at him, and he meets my eyes. “Ten sharp, tomorrow evening,” he says and then disappears in a slithering cloud of shadow that is both like and unlike Malam’s.
With that, I turn and head into the mansion to my bed. It is well past time for me to get some rest.