Chapter 18 #2
I blink, and suddenly I’m standing in a field I’ve never seen before. No longer surrounded by sparse trees and dying plants. Instead, wisteria flowers brush against my arms where they hang at my sides. They stretch as far as I can see, rolling hills bathed in indigo moonlight.
I’m cautious to move, afraid I’ll fall straight through the ground and into whatever had just been trying to pull me under.
Then, without warning, a glowing purple and golden string appears in front of me. I reach for it. It isn’t just one—it’s two—and they coil together. They wind around my index finger and loop up my wrist, tightening as though…
The thin thread morphs, and fingers now grip where they had been.
“Mom!”
I blink rapidly at the sound of Amarah’s voice.
Turning toward the soft tug on my wrist, I catch sight of a young girl with white hair running toward a woman. Her face is hidden behind thick, dark strands as she bends to greet the child.
“You did it, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
The girl giggles and twirls once, her dress flaring outward, pushing the wisteria aside as though she’d summoned a breeze to keep the petals from brushing the fabric. Her eyes open, and she spots me. Her tiny shoulders square instantly.
“Mommy, who’s that?”
“I’m sure one day you’ll know.”
I look at the woman. She lifts her head, but I’m still only capable of seeing half of her face; from the nose up, a dark shadow swallows her features.
“No one can come here unless you and Vendra allow it.”
The girl’s voice is small, confused. “But… I only brought you.”
The woman smiles, and a harsh yank on my wrist rips me from the place I’d fallen into.
A crushing weight slams onto my chest, knocking the air out of me. The ground digs into my back, and when I force open my eyelids that feel stitched together, I’m met with bright, indigo eyes and a spill of white hair hovering over me.
Amarah.
She’s breathing hard, arms trembling as her fists clutch my shirt. Sweat drips down her temple—but what hits my cheek isn’t sweat.
She’s crying.
I lift my hands toward her waist, but before I can touch her, she raises her hand and slaps me. Hard. My head snaps to the side, and I know some external force fueled that hit because Vayl above, it hurts.
“I take back what I said! You are fucking stupid!” Her voice breaks, raw. She swings again, but I catch her forearm before she can land it. “Y-You moron! Why would you do that?!”
She tries to tear free of my grip, but I hold on tight.
“I don’t understand what just happened, Amarah.”
“DON’T SAY MY NAME!”
Her scream detonates between us, quite literally shaking the ground. She throws everything into it, and the force rocks through me like a physical blow.
“I told you to stop! You—you shoved me out of the way, you fucking asshole!”
I don’t remember any of that.
“You were nearly dragged into the Beyond, Butcher. Do you understand what that means?!” Her breath hitches, breaking apart. “You wouldn’t have gone in willingly. Y-You would’ve…” Her voice fractures completely, and she starts hyperventilating. “Y-You fucking prick! Y-You can’t die! You can’t—”
She screams again—loud, guttural—and her fist slams into my chest.
“I hate you! I hate you! I told you this was stupid! Gods, I told you how stupid this was!”
“Calm down.”
“Fuck you, asshole. Don’t tell me to calm down!”
I grab her other arm and haul myself upright. She collapses into my lap, thrashing, and even though I pin both her wrists to the side, she pulls so hard I swear she’d break her own bones just to get away from me.
I look over her shoulder to see the gate is gone. Nothing left but the scorched markings we saw the first time.
“I had to take you home…”
Her whisper drags my attention back to her. Her head hangs low, inches from my chest, shoulders trembling violently. I come dangerously close to wrapping her in my arms just to stop the shaking.
“Damn you,” she breathes.
“Look at me.”
She fights harder—hips twisting, heels digging into the dirt, trying to wrench away. That’s not happening. She’s not going anywhere.
“Amarah.”
“S-Stop, just…”
“Look at me now!” I snap, putting more force behind it.
Her head whips up, defiance and fury carved into every sharp line of her face. The red swirls in her eyes aren’t softened by tears—only raw, blistering anger burns there, so intense that for a moment, I almost wish she’d hit me again instead.
“I’m sorry.”
The words spill out of me with a sincerity I don’t even try to hide. Because fuck, I am sorry.
If she hadn’t dragged me back… would I really have died? Did she actually save my life?
She releases a broken, pained whimper. “I hate you. I hate you so godsdamn much.”
“I know. I know.”
I let go of her arms and lift my hands in surrender. She drops her own to her sides, shoulders tense, eyes locked on mine.
Without thinking, I reach out to her. My thumb grazes the curve of her trembling chin, my fingers trailing along her jaw. I feel the uneven skin of the scars there, and fucking Beyond. Heat shoots from the point of contact straight into my gut.
Her chest rises sharply at the edge of my vision, and just as her lips part to speak, I hear the rustle of leaves. Then, of course—because the Gods love to teach me lessons the hard way—I hear: “Butcher?! Amarah?!”
Her hand snaps up, swatting mine away so fast it stings. She’s on her feet in an instant, already distancing herself from me by the time Atlas stumbles into view.
“I feel like such a useless tool,” he pants, bent over slightly. “I heard screaming… so… I came… running.”
I glance toward Amarah, but she’s already moving. Heading straight for where the gate once stood.
“You good, Butcher?” Atlas stands over me, extending a hand. His gaze drops to my lap, and I know exactly what he sees—my cock could rival how hard-headed Amarah is. “You look a little—”
“Don’t finish that statement.” I grab his hand and get to my feet. “I’m fine.”
Amarah tuts under her breath but doesn’t comment.
“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well,” he says.
This time, it isn’t me who answers.
“I fear we have a problem…” she says softly.
Atlas groans, throwing his head back. “What else is new. More roughing it for Gods knows how long, I presume.”
“No,” she sighs. “We can sleep in real beds tonight. I need to think about how to proceed.”
“Uh… what happened? What’s the problem?”
“Nothing happened,” she replies firmly. “But it will kill Butcher if he goes through a gate that’s opened from the Beyond. Which means I’ll have to open one from our side.”
Atlas hums. “And how are you going to do that when you can’t channel reliably?”
She straightens and starts heading back toward camp. I guess she’s not going to want me to carry her this time.
“I need sleep,” she says. “We can discuss it tomorrow.”
I meet Atlas’s bright green eyes just as he flashes me a devious smile. He doesn’t need to know what happened here, and even if he deserved to, I’m not about to talk about it.
The last thing I’m willing to admit out loud is that I may not hate that little slayer nearly as much as I wish I did.