Chapter 31
thirty-one
CIELO
There is something in my chest that aches. A feeling that was hidden behind profound relief that Luca was alive and would not perish from his wounds. A feeling hidden behind Dante’s grief at losing his brother, and his anger at everything that happened.
And it is a feeling—an emotion—I am not used to. It burns like fury, but it is not fury. It’s tender like grief, but it is not that either.
I would ask my Dante, but he is speaking to his family about his brother, repeating the lie he spent the rest of the night trying to create. A story he can tell them that they will believe and not go searching for Luca.
And I know that he also wishes to take comfort in knowing that Everest will be on Erethar from time to time and can ensure that Luca is safe and happy, but he cannot. Not fully.
I could feel from him that he is angry at Everest for Zane’s actions. He is angry that Everest would still defend the man who participated in nearly killing his brother.
And I…
I am angry, too.
No. It really isn’t anger. It’s this other unknown thing that I have never experienced before. When I think about Everest, the feeling is the same as when I think about Zane, just not as powerful.
Sitting on the ground of my room, I let Niaus crawl into my lap. It is still the middle of the day, so she is sleepy, but she is growing bigger. My first thought is to take a photo and show Zane.
Because he helped find her.
Because he was my friend.
And ah…that feeling gets stronger.
“Betrayal,” comes a voice in my head. It is not my own. It is my Dante from far away. “The feeling is betrayal, and I’m sorry.”
“I love you,” I tell him, because his pain is greater.
He sends me a nearly overwhelming wave of affection, and I nearly lose my breath from it. “I can’t wait to be home.”
The feeling of Dante fades, though it is never gone now that I have tasted his blood and he is mine. My VySytheh. But in the moment, I realize I need this quiet.
I stroke my clawless fingers over Niaus’s little back as she nestles into the side of my neck, and I stand up once more, letting my claws scrape along the floor as I begin to pace.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hangs from the closet door, and I freeze. Most Vyastil do not have these. They are not unheard of, but I was several dozen moon cycles old before I saw myself in my reflection, and that was only to observe my adornments.
There was never any need for vanity back then. Never a need to know what I looked like. I could see myself a little in my brothers at the village, and that was enough.
One of them would braid my hair, and I would do the same for them. We ensured we each looked as we should.
It’s different now.
The coat hangs off my shoulders, and I put the panties on after Dante left. The feeling of the lace against my skin is an odd comfort. I look like myself—at least, I have not changed much.
The places where I was once pierced still feel far too empty, but with how content I am here, it hardly matters.
All the same, I run a claw over my earlobes. I was forcibly given zitha so the holes would heal, and now there’s nothing more than a tiny, thick scar as I squeeze it.
I turn my face away. There is no need to mourn something like that. I will be re-pierced by my Dante, but it feels unfair to burden him with such a thing right now.
Suddenly, my phone begins to make a noise when someone wishes me to see their face and speak to them. Walking across the room, I pick it up from the side table and see Everest’s name on the screen.
Anger strikes me for a moment, but it does not last. This is Everest. My first friend. The human who saved me. The human who has risked so much to keep me and my brothers safe.
I let that eclipse the pain I’m feeling and tap the screen to answer.
“Cielo,” he breathes out. His face is splotchy—the peachy tan mottled with deep pink. His hair is messy, the skin around his eyes is puffy, and the whites are tinted red. “I wasn’t sure you were going to answer. I know everyone is pissed at me.”
I take a breath. Once more, I wish that the cum allowed me to speak more clearly. I have a much better grasp on the language now, but even my brothers who did not understand English at all are better than me.
“Zane,” I tell him, and he winces.
“I know. I…please don’t think I’m letting him off the hook, okay?”
I do not know this phrase, letting him off the hook. But I can infer it means some kind of absolution.
“I’m so fucking angry at him. I knew he was kind of an idiot about all this Vyastil stuff, and I knew his parents were filling his head with garbage. But I thought…” His voice cracks and his chin wobbles. “I thought he was getting better. He’s working for Quilliyn, and you two are friends—”
“Not,” I snap before I’m able to stop myself. “Not friends.”
We were friends. I think. Or something like it. And ah—there is the grief. It’s heavy on my chest, not because I lost him, but because I never really had him in the first place.
I cannot allow myself to believe that Zane ever cared for me. He was using me to obtain the portal key, which is still missing. It is in the hands of the human rebellion, and while they cannot use it yet, Eissa believes they will eventually learn how if we do not stop them first.
Which means they are a threat to my people.
And Zane forced me to become part of that plot. He forced my hand in hurting those I love.
I swallow against a hot, thick throat.
“I’m sorry,” Everest whispers. “I shouldn’t have believed him. I should have realized that he was full of shit when he woke up one day and decided he was fine with Rath and me, and with Quilliyn, and with you.”
I bow my head and shake it. “No.”
“Cielo—”
I look up at him. “No sorry. Everest,” I tell him, taking the greatest care with my words. “Not your…faullllt.”
He winces. “I know him better than anyone. I know how stubborn he is. His random change of heart made no sense, but I was so fucking desperate for him to be happy for me—for him to understand that everything his parents taught him was bullshit. I thought if he just got to know you, he’d see the truth. ”
I understand what he means. There are so many things that I must learn, but there are so many things I must also unlearn. And the same should be true for Zane.
I also understand loving someone so much that I could be willingly blind to their faults. If this were Dante, I would not want to accept the truth.
“Listen,” Everest says, “Eissa got a house for us, a place that isn’t being monitored by the human or Vyastil government. It’s a place we can all meet up and talk. Your brothers, too.”
At that, I perk up, and the ache I feel over what Zane did softens.
Everest manages something like a smile. “I think you’ll love it. It overlooks Lake Michigan. There’s a huge deck, and a path to the beach.”
I let out a small, happy trill. The lake was the first time Dante told me he loved me. The first time I felt that I was truly where I was meant to be.
I wish to experience that again, but with my friends and my brothers.
“Saaafe?” I ask. “For my broooothers?”
“Yes,” Everest assures me quickly. “Eissa says he has news about that, but he won’t be able to come back for a little while since he’s getting Luca settled.”
At the sound of his name, Everest and I both wince.
Then he takes a breath. “Anyway, I sent a text to Dante. We ah…we have a surprise for you, so we’re going to meet this weekend, okay? And everyone will have a key to the house so we can all come and go any time we need to get away.”
This is a human concept, the need to get away. Vacations. Taking time off. But it is also a concept that more Vyastil should get to know. It took me so much time to allow myself moments during the day when I do nothing.
The urge to work, to be useful, to not be a drain is overwhelming sometimes. But I am allowing myself to understand and embrace peace.
And quiet.
In the distance, I hear the front door open. “Dante,” I tell Everest.
He nods. “Yeah. Go see him. He’s going to need you right now, and I’ll see you Saturday.”
I nod, then hit the button to end the call. Walking to the corner where Niaus has her favorite little hammock, I drop her in it and wait for her to curl up against her small, animal-shaped stuffed toy.
Her eyes stay closed, so I flick the light off, then find Dante sitting on the edge of the couch with his hands over his face. He is not crying, but I can feel the pain radiating off him in waves.
It takes me no time at all to close the distance and curl my arms around him. He stiffens, but only for a moment, and then he curls up against me. In my arms, I adjust us both so I’m lying across the cushions, and he presses his ear to my chest, listening to the steady beats of my hearts.
“I don’t think they bought it,” he eventually says.
I wish I could see his face, but I know he is taking comfort in me as he rubs his nose along my sternum.
“I think they know something’s up, and Gia’s suspicious.
If we can’t fix this soon, I’m going to have to tell her the truth.
They won’t stop until they feel sure they have every detail. ”
I let out a distressed hum. That would put them in danger, but I know Dante understands this. I can feel through our bond that he is torn between protecting them and his fear of losing them.
“They will never abandon you,” I send him.
He lets out a shaking breath, then turns his face and props his chin up. It digs into my nipple, making the scar there twinge from where my piercings once were.
I feel the urge to dip my hand past his shirt and touch his nipples. I want to pierce them, too—to see that mark on his body. To let the world know that he is everything to me.
But I do not know if he would understand the significance of that ritual.