Chapter 9 - Anton
Sitting in the car, I knew that this was going to be a very bad experience. I’ve never felt pain like that in my life, and it was clear that it was only the beginning of whatever they had poisoned me with.
I remember her being snappy and rude. I remember the car moving.
And I remember thinking, I’m lucky if she doesn’t leave me on the side of the road and drive away.
Then everything went black as agony engulfed every nerve ending in my body.
I had a brief moment, waking up to the sensation that someone had their entire hand inside my body, feeling around in the knife wound, trying to rip me open even more as acid burned my insides.
Through the haze of pain, I saw her leaning over me and tried to grab her wrist to stop her from killing me.
But stronger hands pinned me down, and the pain became too much.
Nightmares taunted me, dragging me into darkness like I have never seen before. And in my dreams, the pain never left me.
I could feel the skin melting from my body.
I could feel the acid eating away at my insides.
But then, sometimes, her voice would pierce the thick shroud of darkness, and I would lift my head and take a breath of fresh air.
“I’m right here with you.”
There is an echo to it. It moves and reverberates off the insides of my skull. A tiny little pixie flits in and out of my nightmares. She’s glowing. So tiny. So sweet. And so intensely bright that whenever she comes, she chases the darkness away—even for those brief moments.
Waiting for her to speak again is what carries me through the pain. My body wants to collapse in on itself, and then I hear her. And I’m almost okay.
Then I’m lost again.
Then she calls me back.
I don’t know how long this has been going on. It feels like I’ve been trapped in hell forever, but the sweetness of her voice keeps reminding me that it will end. She whispers and tells me I will make it through, that I’m going to be okay.
***
Sunshine pushes against my closed eyelids.
My vision swims with red as I wake up, reluctant to open my eyes.
My body is aching. It’s tender. I try to roll over onto my side and my skin feels bruised.
My eyes flicker open, blinking against the bright, piercing light.
I know Izabel was here last night. I felt her. I heard her. I know it.
But now, in the late morning light, I am alone.
Sighing, I lift my hand and rub my eyes, groaning loudly.
Of course, she took the chance and escaped.
Why wouldn’t she? I should just be grateful that she saved my life and not even try to chase her down.
Not that I could chase her down in the state I’m in.
My body feels like I got run over a truck.
Like it backed up and reversed over me again just to make sure the job was done properly.
“Yeah, fuck it. I need a coffee,” I grumble, forcing myself to sit up despite the pain that spikes through the knife wound in my hip.
“Fuckers. Using the Devil's Tongue on their fucking knives. How fucking low can you get?” I mutter to myself.
I have to hold onto the balustrade as I stagger down the stairs. Hey, I’ve been in worse situations and still managed to take care of myself. I didn’t need anyone then, and I don’t need anyone now.
I scoff. Yeah. No. The pain I felt last night was pretty much as bad as it has ever been. I wonder where she ran to. I wonder if they’ll come bashing down my door and drag me away?
I mutter to myself as I walk into the kitchen with my hand clasped over the bandages on my side. My entire body freezes in shock as I stare at Izabel.
She spins in fright, her hand on her heart to calm it, as she stares back at me.
“You’re…awake,” she mutters. “You don’t look like you should be up and about yet,” she insists, taking a step towards me.
I’m still in shock, and my reaction is probably not the best, but I blurt out, “What the hell are you still doing here?”
She pulls a face, glaring at me. “What kind of a thank-you is that?” she stammers.
I realize how it sounded and lean more heavily against the kitchen doorframe as I try to regather my thoughts. “Sorry,” I mumble. “That is not at all how I meant for that to sound. I just thought…I thought you would…”
Sighing, I give up and shrug.
She is ignoring me and my rudeness. I walk closer to see what she’s busy with, and the faint scent of ginger and lemon washes over me. My stomach grumbles hungrily.
“What is that?” I ask, eyeing the green powder she’s about to mix into the tea with suspicion.
She glances at me, still annoyed at my snappy comment. “It’s herbal tea. For the pain and for infection. And you should be back in bed.”
“I don’t have ginger in my pantry. Or whatever that green stuff is,” I remark curiously.
“No, you don’t. But Yaroslav did me a favor and went to get me a list of things I asked for.”
“Yaroslav?” I blurt out, surprised again.
She sighs and rolls her eyes, glaring at me in silent annoyance.
I study her face, and for the first time, I notice how dark the shadows under her eyes are and how red her normally bright eyes are.
She's about to turn back to the tea when I touch her arm and draw her attention back to me. “Wait…did you sleep at all?”
She shakes her head, sighing softly. “I was…no, I didn’t,” she huffs.
“You stayed up the whole night watching me, didn’t you?” I ask gently, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“I was worried. You were talking and having nightmares, and Yaroslav told me about Devil’s Tongue, and he said you were in hell, basically.”
My heart wants to collapse in on itself as I stare down at this beautiful creature who stayed at my side the entire time.
“I was,” I whisper. “I was in hell…but there was this sweet, beautiful voice that kept calling me back and pushing the darkness away.”
She bites her lip.
“That voice saved me last night. It would have been so much worse,” I tell her, cupping my hand beneath her chin.
Her cheeks begin to heat and turn a beautiful shade of pink as a delicate smile touches her lips.
“Yes, you did mutter something about a glowing pixie,” she giggles.
I can’t help laughing, but as soon as I do, my wound aches, and I groan.
She frowns and shakes her head. “You really shouldn’t be up. You need to stay in bed and get some proper sleep.”
“Oh, and you’re the doctor now?” I tease.
“Well, I’m the best one you have,” she sasses back at me. “Actually, that’s not true. Yaroslav told me what to do. He had to hold you down last night so we could clean the wound.”
I nod. “Yaroslav is a good man.”
“He is.”
I stare into her eyes, and a smile plays over my lips. “Thank you, little pixie. You saved my life.”
“I just cleaned up the wound and—”
“No. You got me to the car. You got me home. You very literally saved my life. That drug kicks in so quickly, I would never even have escaped those attackers. And even if I had, I would have bled to death in the car on the side of the road. You literally saved my life, Izabel.”
For a long moment, we are locked in each other’s gaze. My heart is moving and shifting and filled with her. Her beautiful face. Her voice, still in my dreams. Her soft warm eyes.
Izabel shyly steps away from me.
She clears her throat and brushes her hands over the front of her jeans as if she’s nervous about something. “Well, um, you should drink the tea while it’s still warm, because it tastes pretty bad when it gets cold,” she says gesturing to the tea.
“You’ve had it before?” I ask.
“Yes, I went through a phase and got into herbal remedies, and whenever I got a virus or sick or something, I would drink it.”
“And did it work?”
“Yes, I think it did. Maybe it’s all in the mind?” she shrugs.
“No, I think there is a lot of truth to plants and natural treatments. Thank you for this,” I say, picking up the tea and tasting it. To my surprise, it tastes mostly of ginger and lemon, quite pleasant. I was worried it was going to taste like whatever that green powder is.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I watch Izabel start putting away the tea ingredients.
“You really should go back to bed,” she says.
“No, I need to stand up and move around a bit. My blood needs to flow,” I smile.
She suddenly turns to face me with a frown on her beautiful face.
“You know, I might have saved your life, but you saved mine first. So, it…it was just the fair thing to do,” she says curtly. If I'm not mistaken, she’s being defensive about the fact that she saved me. Maybe even a little annoyed about it. I chuckle, musing over this thought.
“So, you only did it because it was the right thing to do?” I ask, an edge of amusement in my voice.
Her frown deepens and she lets out a tiny little puff of air. “Of course,” she stammers. “It’s not like….”
“It’s not like we’re friends?” I interrupt her.
“You kidnapped me,” she murmurs, hardly convincing herself.
After I’ve taken the last sip of tea, I set the mug down on the counter and step towards her. She hesitates, not knowing whether to move away or stay put and stand her ground as I get into her personal space.
My body is pressed against hers, and she reaches back to hold on to the edge of the kitchen counter as though it's a lifeline of sorts.
I lean closer until my face is hovering over hers. Our lips are close. She takes in a soft breath.
I move my face and gently kiss her cheek, letting my lips linger on her skin.
Then I step back.
“Thank you, little pixie. It doesn’t matter why you did it. And you didn’t owe me anything, even if I did get stabbed saving you from that guy. It’s irrelevant. I kidnapped you. I saved you. The two cancel each other out, and then you still saved my life.”
Her cheeks are bright pink, and she’s fidgeting with her hair, but still, the feisty sass is strong as she replies with a scoff, “You really think the two cancel each other out? Like I should now forgive you for kidnapping me?”
“Definitely!” I nod enthusiastically. “You don’t think so?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Not a chance!” she snaps.
I press my hand over my heart and feign shock and offense.
She giggles.
Such a beautiful sound.
It ripples through me like a warm breeze.
She’s still grinning when she rolls her eyes and asks, “Do you want bacon and eggs?”
“You read my mind!” I blurt out.
I hurry to the fridge to grab the bacon while she’s hauling out the cast-iron pan.
“I’ll do it, you rest.” She slaps my hand away from the kitchen drawer when I try to fetch a knife.
“I’m not incapacitated,” I argue.
“No, but you shouldn’t move around so much. I still need to check the wound this morning and possibly…ugh….” She pulls a face.
I crack up laughing. “Squeamish?” I grin.
“It was…uh…I had to pack it to stop the bleeding,” she says, trying to find the politest way to say it.
This has me laughing harder. Her face is hysterical. She looked halfway between throwing up and being furious at the pure audacity of what she had to do.
“I can do all that myself now, and if I can’t, I’m sure Yaroslav will assist,” I tell her, and she breathes a massive sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank goodness. I don’t mind changing bandages and stuff, but that was…gross.” Her nose is so scrunched, I’m laughing all over again. It hurts my side, but I can’t stop.
“Come on, hand me the knife so I can cut this up,” I say when I’ve caught my breath. She hands me the knife and goes to fetch the eggs.
It’s nice working in the kitchen with her. It feels comfortable, like it’s something I could very easily get used to.