Chapter 60
sixty
Gentry
She wasn’t sure how long she drifted between life and death, only that at times she wandered perilously close to the edge.
It felt akin to when the necromancer had ripped apart her bond to that witch.
She forgot how her brain worked with her body — she floated.
Other times, she was extremely in tune with every inch of her skin and she wished for nothing more than for death to take her rather than draw another burning breath.
Gentry fluctuated between floating and pain until it became routine. And boring.
Eventually, the cycles became less intense, which made it even more boring. Sometimes a doctor would pull her out of that state to prod at her, but it was never for more than a few hazy, bumbling minutes. Gradually those events lengthened, until they finally let her be awake.
Thankfully, she wasn’t in a hospital bed. That was the first thing she noticed and was grateful for; the bed was soft and comfortable, and the air didn’t smell disinfected and disingenuous. The lighting was natural, and didn’t hurt her extremely dry eyes.
She recognized it as a room very similar to the one she stayed in with the Weavers. It was elegant and had a spice of danger to it. Gentry liked it.
“Gentry, are you awake, baby?” a familiar, masculine voice asked.
A big smile broke across her face, and she turned to see Kit at her bedside. The tall, lean witch looked awful, his usually clean-shaven face scraggly with dark facial hair and deep shadows underneath his eyes.
“You look terrible,” she croaked, and she was a bit mortified that she had a shaky, pathetic coughing fit right after making her joke.
Kit didn’t laugh as his jaw tightened with emotion. He looked pissed. “You don’t get to make jokes after what you did. How could you do something so… verifiably insane? The Weavers are impressed with you, that’s how fucking out of touch you were.”
Gentry flinched. “That isn’t quite fair,” she began, “I mean technically I was at risk anyway, which is the only reason—”
“—Do not justify it. For the love of god, don’t. Just”—Kit placed his head in his hands—“don’t give me a heart attack again, please, and never risk your life for mine again. Your life is worth more than mine. If you hadn’t also saved Amelia, I think I’d have to get you committed again.”
This time Gentry laughed, which hurt an insane amount. “Now who’s making jokes?” She sobered a bit. “I’m so glad I’m alive,” she said earnestly, “I’m not quite sure how, but I’m so glad.”
Her man smiled at last. “Well, we’re going to have to write a shit ton of thank you notes is how.
It was two weeks of non-stop work. The healer brought you back with CPR and the Weavers got you the best cross-disciplinary team I’d ever seen.
When they weren’t pumping you full of drugs, they were using what magic your body could handle.
But then we noticed you weren’t getting better — it was because that bond to that dead fucking Netherton was dragging you down.
Wren spent hours excising his shitty soul out of you.
Now mind”—Kit held a finger up—“I don’t think we necessarily owe the Weavers a thank you note, but definitely to Wren and your doctors. ”
Gentry laughed again and stopped. Fuck, that hurt. Then she shut her eyes. She could already feel her energy depleting to nil. It was almost time for her first un-medicated sleep. But there was something she had to ask first. “Mom and Beckett, did you get a hold of them? Tell them I’m okay?”
Her witch smiled at her. “They’re in town as we speak. I only called them once we were sure you’d wake up.”
Tears stung her eyes at that. “Thank you, they’ve worried enough about me for a lifetime.
” From now until the day she died, she swore she’d find a way to make it up to them.
But that gave her one extra thought. “Kit, I’m not sure if the whole ‘me-almost-dying-for-you’ didn’t tell you this, but I love you too. ”
Kit swiped her tears away and kissed her so tenderly that Gentry never wanted it to stop.