Chapter 31 - Garrett
My head hurt. It was doing that a lot recently. In fact, everything hurt. I felt stiff, an aching rigidity filling my bones.
I couldn’t open my eyes.
Somewhere, both distant and close at the same time, I heard a voice calling out. I thought that they might be talking to me, but I couldn’t be sure.
At first, the voice was familiar. Sweet and resonant and lovely. Her voice spoke my name not with tenderness, but with urgency and remorse. I couldn’t remember why she was sad.
Then, slowly, the voice changed. It shifted into something deeper, less urgent and more annoyed—authoritative and masculine.
"Ehi!"
Something hit my foot. It felt like a boot kicking me.
I still couldn’t open my eyes.
"Ehi! Signore! Si Svegli!" He was telling me to wake up, which made no sense, because I didn’t feel like I was sleeping.
I felt like I was dead.
The voice mumbled something, and another voice answered. "Magari parla inglese?" Maybe he speaks English.
Yes, I thought. That’s right.
But I couldn’t open my mouth to tell them.
Finally, I was able to pry my eyelids open, just a fraction.
"Inglese? Sir! You may not sleep here!"
How could I tell them that I didn’t want to be sleeping there? All I could see was their stiff blue pants tucked neatly into shiny black boots.
"Ha bisogno di aiuto? Sir, do you have need of help?"
Yes.
I opened my mouth to answer. My throat felt like it was made of sandpaper. "Where am I?" The words came out gritty, like I hadn’t had a drop to drink in days.
When I could finally look up, I saw them exchange incredulous glances.
"Sir," the first officer said. "Do you have need of help? May we bring you somewhere? The hospital, maybe?"
I shook my head. Sensation was returning slowly to my outer extremities, and I finally felt stable enough to force myself to stand.
They helped lift me, both of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere than dealing with what they perceived to be a drunk, nearly comatose American.
"I’m sorry," I said, trying to look around and take stock of where we were located. "I’m okay. Low blood sugar," I lied.
I wasn’t sure if they understood me, but they patted me on the shoulder and left, clearly relieved to be rid of me.
It was late. Or very early. The sky was dark, but I couldn’t hear the usual sounds of late-night revelers traveling from bar to bar.
I looked to my left and right and realized that I was on a side street near Piazza Centrale, not far from the central fountain…
And that’s when it all came rushing back to me.
Ordina.
The cave.
The witch.
Marella.
The sudden sensation of my blood hardening and stilling all at once left me petrified and trapped to watch as Marella and her sister fought the Stone Witch, watching as the witch crumbled to the ground at Ordina’s feet…
And then…
Nothing.
And then, I woke up here.
I started walking in the direction of the piazza, because I didn’t know where else to go, and something was calling me there.
As I approached, I heard voices. It wasn’t the usual banal chatter of tourists, but happy, excited exclamations. Laughter. Shock. Joy.
And rising above the rest was a voice I recognized instantly.
I stepped out of the side street into the open air of the piazza. The moon was bright, and the whole space was lit by silver light. There, by the fountain, was a small crowd of people. A tall man I didn’t recognize, but who seemed immediately familiar, and a small gaggle of women.
Lucas was there, supported by Marella’s sister and looking both uncomfortable and pained.
And there, at the center of it all, was Marella. Even from far away, I could see her green eyes shining. She looked happy to see her family, but also sad somehow. Like she was missing something.
As I watched, she began to slowly extricate herself from her family, letting them embrace and speak without her. Her face collapsed. She raised her eyes to look around the square, as if she were searching for answers in the stone walls.
At first, she looked right past me.
Then, her head whipped around. Her mouth fell open. The light from the moon reflected off her face, making her look like she was shining.
Finally, her expression transformed. Her lips, which had been pulled into a tight frown, rose to form the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
And that’s when we both started running.
Disregarding the stiffness and pain I still felt, I ran as fast as I could. I couldn’t move quickly enough. Even as I sprinted with every ounce of strength left in my body, I felt as though I was wading through sand.
But then our fingers met, and we crashed into one another, arms finding purchase, hands tangling in hair, and lips pressing to every available surface we could reach.
"You’re alive," she whispered into my neck, like she still couldn’t quite believe it. "How are you alive?"
I explained how I had watched her fight with the witch as I was trapped inside the stone, just as she’d watched the world go by for all those centuries. I told her how I’d simply woken up nearby after Ordina had dealt the killing blow.
I was as astounded as she was.
But it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that we were here.
We were alive.
We were free.
And we were together.
And there, under the light of the moon, I took her face in my hand and kissed her fully, no teeth, no hunger, and no curse between us.
Just the promise of a mortal lifespan.
Together.