Chapter 38 Nyx #2
I desperately gasp for breath and cough violently on the ash and smoke, groaning when the movement jerks my broken arm.
My eyelids are pulled back as—
“Roth?”
“Wake up, pretty bird.”
“What—” He picks me up and holds me upright against the wall until the world stops spinning. “What are you—”
“You need to move. Time’s almost up.”
I frown in confusion as the fog clears from my mind and look into his black eyes, focusing on him to keep from falling over when he lets go. “But, why—”
“Concentrate. You’re running out of time.”
I rub my eyes, watching as blood and clear fluid leak from the healing puncture marks without a trace of scar. “You helped me?”
“Go.” He pushes me up the stairs, and somehow my leg manages not to buckle beneath my weight.
“I don’t—?”
“Go.” I take another step at his urging.
Another.
Every step is excruciating, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
When I reach the last step, gasping for breath, he’s still there. Still waiting. Still staring with those black eyes.
He shoos me away with his hand, and then I duck through the curtain of green leaves, entering the pitch-black tunnel, pushing myself along the rough, abrasive surface until the darkness begins to retreat, and then I taste sunlight again.
Someone announces my name amid scattered applause as my knees finally give out. Someone else catches me as I crumple, throwing my arm over their shoulder and supporting my weight.
“Let’s get her to the medical tent—” Between the sharp, throbbing ache in my arm and the sunlight stabbing my eyes, I have no choice but to trust whoever’s helping me limp to the medical tent. The pain barely lessens when we enter the cool shade of the tent, and I’m deposited on a squeaky cot.
“What hurts?” a woman’s voice asks as I hear the snap of exam gloves.
“Arm. Head. Everything,” I murmur.
Dr. Mercer, I now recognize, peels back my eyelid and runs through the same list of questions I remember—miraculously—from the first time I saw her.
“We really need to stop meeting like this, Ms. Bryke.”
It hurts to laugh. “No shit.”
“Your arm is definitely broken. No concussion this time, however.”
“What, no high score?”
“Then again—”
“No wait, I’ll shut up now.”
She palpates the area around the break and I clench my jaw as pain radiates down my fingers and up to my shoulder.
“I’m going to set the fracture—your blood has already started clotting around the break, but it’ll take about a week to heal fully once I give you a potion to accelerate the bones knitting back together.”
“This is going to fucking hurt, isn’t it?” I turn to her and crack my eye open.
She holds up a syringe. “Want me to take the edge off?”
“Duh.”
She laughs under her breath and doses me up.
Almost immediately my arm begins to go numb, and whatever’s in that cocktail finally eases the tension in my body for the first time since that fucking plant shanked me with poisonous thorns as she sets the bones.
I close my eyes and let her work, trying to process the last hour.
Because what the actual fuck.
The plant.
Then Roth fucking… rescuing me? Like some knight in demented armor?
How did he even know I needed help? I don’t bother asking myself why he saved me—I can only imagine he’d miss torturing me if I were dead.
He certainly seemed to enjoy toying with me last night on the beach.
And this morning. And every day in class.
Just then, the tent door opens just as Dr. Mercer is wrapping my arm to keep the bones stable, and Vivica appears in an elegant black pantsuit.
“Nyx—what happened?” She asks with a concerned frown, sitting on the cot opposite Dr. Mercer.
I don’t know what about her makes the alarm bells in my head go off, but in no uncertain terms am I ever going to tell her the truth. “I tripped and my arm broke my fall. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.” That much is true, at least.
“As am I.” She smiles warmly. Fake warmly. Like a spray tan instead of a hard-earned solar radiation burn.
Fuck, maybe I do have a concussion.
“Let me be the first to congratulate you. Well done,” she reaches out to pat my arm, and I have to swallow the bile that threatens to rise.
“Thank you, Councilwoman,” I say stiffly.
“Oh please, I think we’re past formalities at this point.
Call me Vivica.” I nod, which she takes as permission to keep talking my fucking ear off.
“I came in to check on you, and also share some news.” She waits for Dr. Mercer to finish with my arm, and nods when she leaves.
Once she’s out of earshot, Vivica continues.
“While there aren’t any leads yet on the grimoire I mentioned, I’ve found someone who can teach you bloodmagic.
” Her face lights up, but there’s an edge to her excitement that I can’t. ..
“Wait. I thought I was the only one—”
“The only Bloodwitch, yes. Your new teacher is a vampire.”
I blink, trying to understand the words she just strung together in what I’m pretty sure is a brand new sentence.
“A… vampire.”
“Yes, he came highly recommended, and I’ve been quite pleased with his work so far. I think he’ll be a good resource for you.”
“How—? I don’t understand.”
“Ah. You’re wondering how a vampire can have bloodmagic?” I nod. “It’s a byproduct of how they were created with bloodmagic in the first place. There’s no way to determine prior to turning whether someone will have any bloodmagic, so they’re highly sought after when they do.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Really. What the fuck does someone say to being told they’re going to be taught bloodmagic by a vampire. What is my life right now?
“No need to say thanks.” She tilts her head and smiles, “I only want what’s best for you.”
I think I might throw up.
Just then, Tori saves me from her mother when she blows into the tent like a hurricane. “Nyx! Mom! Hi—oh my God, I heard you got hurt but no one said—what happened?”
“I broke my arm. But Mercer gave me the good shit,” I grin, or maybe grimace, as I sit up and accept her hug. Somewhere between the two.
“I’m glad you’re okay. And that you passed!
I’ve never heard of anyone skipping grades like you did and still passing, I’m so proud of you.
” She hugs me again, and I’m not prepared for the onslaught of validation that makes my eyes burn with the threat of tears.
When she pulls away, I clear my throat while she hugs her mom.
“Brynne and Milo should be coming out any minute, so I’m going to wait for them.
I’ll come get you for the graduation ceremony later, okay? ”
“Okay. I think I need to rest anyway,” I say, desperately hoping Vivica takes the hint.
Tori barely takes a breath while telling Vivica all about how she crossed the river as they leave, and I lay down again.
Now that my magic’s no longer suppressed—or whatever the fuck happened back there—my wounds have healed, but the combination of adrenaline wearing off and pain medication has sapped me of any remaining energy.
I’m just so fucking tired. I want to sleep for two days.
I want a fat, juicy burger with greasy fries, and a chocolate milkshake, and—
Not having to face Killian right now, for fuck’s sake.
“Nyx.” He sits down on the cot across from me.
Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, he’ll go away.
“I know you’re awake.”
“No I’m not.”
“Roth told me what happened. Are you okay?”
“Fucking peachy.”
He laughs softly. “Will you look at me, pretty girl?”
No. I’m not going to just go along and pretend—
“Please?”
Motherfucker.
“What, Killian. What more could you possibly want from me?” I hate the way my voice wavers when I finally meet his eyes.
“I wanted to check on you.”
“Why, Killian.”
“Because… I fucking—I can’t stop thinking about—”
“How you left before your cum stopped dripping out of me?” He looks down at his hands.
“How you took care of me when—” My throat burns as I choke on the memories of that night, strangled by the words that pour out.
“How you said you would stay. And then thanked me for a good fuck. ‘Stress relief’, you said. ‘Nothing serious’.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then nods and says softly, “Yeah, Nyx. That.” He looks up at me then, eyes full of some unnamed emotion I don’t care enough to figure out. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
I scoff at this fucking farce of an apology and sit up, cradling my broken arm. “It took you three weeks to come up with that? Jesus Christ.”
He brushes his hair back and straightens with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Nyx. I couldn’t—I wasn’t—fuck,” he hisses out. “I had to figure some shit out, okay? And hearing how you almost fucking died,” He gestures outside the tent, “…put things in perspective. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Yeah? What’d you figure out, Killian, enlighten me.”
“I told you that night—I told you it meant nothing. It didn’t.” He says quietly, then more forcefully, “it doesn’t.”
“Use your big boy words and spit it the fuck out, Killian. What do you want?”
He looks at me like he actually cares. “I want to show you how serious I am about you meaning something to me.”
My jaw drops at his admission, the heavy silence between us falling down, down, down into a chasm that can’t be crossed.
“Please, baby.”
He looks so hopeful.
“Say something, pretty girl.”
So eager.
But I’m not going to make that mistake again.
Not with him.
Not with Ramsey.
Not with any of them.
The light in his eyes dims as that chasm between us only deepens.
“I’m not your pretty girl, Killian. I’m not your baby girl. I’m not your anything.”
He shakes his head, as if he could stop my rejection if he just tried hard enough. “Nyx, please...”
My heart bleeds at his pleading, but I’ve bled enough from my own stupidity, letting them get close enough to hurt me like they have. I’m not going to hand him the knife so he can finish the job.
“I’m nothing.”
He swallows thickly, struggling to compose himself. With one last desperate, searching glance, his eyes harden, his jaw clenches, and he leaves without another word.
I promise myself then, the tears that fall as I lay back down are the last ones I’ll ever shed for him.
For any of them.