Chapter 23 #2
He slits open her delicate flesh. She hardly makes a sound. Jonquil's grip on her arm keeps the girl upright as dark blood wells up.
Joyce takes my own wrist, retrieves the knife, and the next second, I also have a deep slash in my arm.
Pain burns through my whole body, but I can’t flinch.
Father and Joyce begin an incantation like nothing I’ve heard before. As they chant, a deep red mist swirls out of the little girl’s slashed wrist. Writhing like snakes, it heads directly for my open wound.
My mind screams.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My thoughts turn to Donovan and Wes; Gods, please don’t let me hurt them.
And what about Aurora? Whatever I’m being turned into, keep her safe.
The mist is almost entering my body as my brain flashes up images of the little dud; crying on her knees, fighting my commands, rubbing oil on my back, covered in lilac sparkles, looking at me with a strange tenderness.
Sorry, Theodora. I don’t know why I was such a cunt to you.
The mist hits my skin.
It feels like ice.
It feels like death.
My body fills with the vapor, and against my will, sucks on it deeply, drinking down every drop. What do you want, Cosmo?
Power and glory…
A pain so deep it feels my soul is being shredded consumes me.
Then I know no more.
◆◆◆
Oh, shit.
I’m back in Avalon. How the fuck did that happen?
I’m on the dusty floor by Amirene’s feet. I scramble backwards until I can see the whole of the statue-guardian thing. “What the fuck?”
—Oh, Dragon—
The voice in my head sounds so, so sad.
—Can you fight, Dragon? Do you have enough in you to fight?—
In me?
To fight what?
—I wish I had more to give. I wish you’d allowed yourself her gifts—
As the statue sighs, one tiny lilac sparkle floats in the air from her exhale.
I watch as it drifts towards me, like a glowing piece of thistledown.
It smells like her. Lilac and rain. Theodora.
It’s mesmerizing, and for some unknown reason, I open my mouth and swallow the glittering atom.
It burns going down—not like fire, but like hope.
Blink.
◆◆◆
Pain.
My head is on fire. Someone help me. Put out the fire.
I can’t breathe.
No, I can breathe. I gasp in a lungful of air.
“Cos? What the fuck, man, what happened?” A muffled voice is shouting at me. “Talk to me, bro. This is freaking me the fuck out.”
Can I speak? I open my mouth. “I-I-I…” I can’t get any words out.
What the fuck happened? It’s as though I’m at the bottom of a mine shaft, looking up at a tiny window of light.
“Cosmo, come back. It’s OK, you’re safe.”
Suddenly, I’m sitting in the backseat of the Range Rover. Dono is beside me, his hand gripping my shoulder.
“Drive, Wes,” he yells at his brother.
“Where to?”
“Just fucking drive away from that building!”
I blink, the world spinning. “How... how did I get here?”
“You walked out,” Donovan says, his voice shaky. “You walked right past us like a zombie.” He puts his hands on my face, turning me towards him. Over his shoulder, the city speeds by. “You went to see your father, remember?”
Right.
I clear my throat several times, then finally find my voice. “Yes. Father, I saw him.”
Fuck, my head.
It’s impossible to think with this pain. “Can you find a healer clinic?” I croak. What happened? I met with Father, and now everything else is blank.
“Belénus Hills?” Wes asks. “Shall I go there?”
I can’t answer. The Rover races past designer stores until we get to a modern glass building with a green cross floating above it. Thank Gods.
The receptionist looks up, takes in the cut of my suit, and switches on a welcoming smile. It gets wider when I produce my black Bank of Havengard credit card, though it falters when she sees the name on it.
“Oh, er, Mr. Drakeward. I’ll get the healer to see you immediately, this way.”
Each step is agony, the vibrations of my footfalls reverberating through my agonized skull. I’m led into a clean white room and, almost blindly, sink into the nearest armchair.
“Mr. Drakeward?”
I peel open a lid to see a middle-aged female healer hovering over me. “Head. Pain.” I grunt.
“Ah, I see. Please allow me.” She sets to work, first pulling a vial from a drawer and releasing the contents under my nose. “Inhale please…”
I do as she commands, but the pounding continues.
Next, she starts doing the real healer shit that involves incantations and casting. The air moves around my scalp, and an icy chill settles into the room.
“Hmm,” she murmurs after a couple of minutes. “Interesting.”
I don’t know what her next move is, but the room gets even colder, and every inch of my skin is goose-fleshed. “I’m going to touch you now,” she tells me, as her fingers touch my brow. “Oh!”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure, a blockage. I’ll try to work around it. Definitely an obstruction of the aura. Take a deep breath.” I wince as she trails her fingers across my forehead.
Finally, the thumping headache begins to ease. Not completely, but enough to be bearable. “That’s all I can attain today, Mr. Drakeward. I’m quite unfamiliar with the pattern of your pain. Er, have you been traveling abroad?”
“Yes.” I guess one could say I’ve been out of the country.
“Then I’d recommend a rare ailments specialist,” she tells me, writing down a name and number and passing me the details. “Your, er, psychic congestion should really be looked at.”
Opening and shutting a cabinet, she then hands me another small vial. “Inhale this in two hours. It will prolong the effects of the healing.”
I can move without agony now, but it’s still rough.
After settling up, Dono and Wes escort me out. “Dude, are you better? You still look seriously messed up.”
“I’m OK,” I tell Donovan as he peers at my face.
The truth is, I’m absolutely wiped. It’s hard to keep my eyes open.
“Can you remember what happened?” he asks.
“Not really,” I tell him. “It’s a blur, I’m hoping it’ll come back soon. I have this feeling there’s something I really need to remember.”
“What do you mean?”
I don't get the chance to answer. Darkness takes me before I can speak.