Chapter 26
Henry drifted between delirium and sleep. Vibrant images came to mind: standing on the beach with his feet in the gentle, cold sea; Mother laughing as she chased Rhys around the garden; the toothless smile on Lottie’s little face as she took her first step; his first kiss with a duke’s daughter; the moment he fell in love with Eva as they sat before the fire at Bondieux House, listening to music.
A pang of trepidation surged through him. The emotion pinned him to the bed, enveloping him in a searing heat.
A hand slid beneath his neck, propping up his heavy head.
He did not have to open his eyes to know it was Eva. Her presence was in the air, electrifying it with every breath and movement.
She held a glass to his lips, and he drank the cool water. A wet cloth wiped the sweat from his brow, neck and back. His shirt was changed. The blankets replaced. When he fell back against the pillow, a hand brushed back his damp hair.
His eyelids fluttered open.
Apart from the lone candle on his bedside table, his bedchamber was dark. Next to him was Eva. She peered at him, a frown marking her lips.
Beautiful even when grimacing.
She placed her hands either side of his face and cocked her head.
“You’re finally awake,” she whispered.
His eyes threatened to shut again, and he fought the urge. Was he awake? Or was this a dream? He touched her wrist, which was warm and soft. She was real.
“Hours—” He choked. It hurt to speak. “How many hours?”
“It’s been a day and a half.”
He groaned. Only three days since his last dose. It already felt like a lifetime, and he knew there was a lifetime more to go until he could consider himself able to function normally again.
His heart crumpled.
How utterly mindless he had been. Unlike the time he sobered up from the drug when he was twenty-and-seven, he now felt as if he had one foot in the grave. Was he foolish to consider that he would ever get better? Was there even use in trying?
“Hey,” she said, brushing back his hair. “You’re doing great. How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
The glow of the candlelight outlined the sadness in her face. She looked oddly girlish, with her wide eyes and hair in a loose braid that fell across her shoulder.
God knew how much she had done to care for him. To think she had dropped telling her story of pain to care for the man whose actions had indirectly led to that trauma … it was entirely selfless and compassionate. That was Eva. His wild, mischievous, free imp with a heart of pure gold.
“I want you to drink more water,” she said.
She brought the glass to his mouth. A lone tear trickled down her face, falling onto his forearm.
He drank the entire glass. And he would drink another if she asked.
She put the glass on his bedside table. From this angle, her face was hidden by her hair. Her shoulders gently bobbed with every muted sob into her hand.
“Eva?” he whispered.
She promptly wiped her face and turned to him. Her hand was on his arm at once.
“What is it?” she said.
He raised his hand to touch her hair. The strands glided through his fingers like bands of silk. “I will fight the darkness, and I will conquer it. I promise you.”
Some time later, he woke with a harrowing cry.
His bedchamber was doused in a darkness so black, he feared he was trapped in a void. Whispers hissed throughout the room, bouncing from corner to corner, like a crowd at a theatre. There was judgment and hatred in their tone. It should have been you to burn in the flames. You will never break free from the darkness.
He covered his ears. It was a hallucination. A symptom of withdrawal. That was all.
Then something caught his eye.
A shadow crossed the foot of his bed. Against the moonlight streaming through the window, the silhouette quivered. In a flash, his mother’s cold blue eyes appeared.
Fear gripped him. He tried to sit up, but the sweat-soaked sheets clung to his skin, trapping him like a fish in a net.
The whispers grew in strength.
His mother had become a ghostly figure in her white nightgown. The very same clothing she had worn the day of Lottie’s birth.
Heart hammering violently, he cried out. An impending doom loomed around him. Surely, death would soon come.
The door flew open, and a dark blur rushed in.
Death is coming!
He jolted from the bed. In his state of weakness, he collapsed against the bedside table. A crash of glass followed.
The shadow was upon him. “Henry,” it said and touched his shoulders. “It’s just a nightmare—”
“No—”
“You’re okay. It’s only a nightmare, nothing more.”
Confusion rippled through him. He did not want to be touched, especially not by Death. “I don’t want to die. I want to live,” he shouted and pushed the shadow away.
There was a thud, followed by a feminine groan.
The sound pulled Henry out of his delusion. The darkness dissipated to reveal Eva on the floor in a pile of glass.
A sob caught in his throat. “God, I thought you were”—he reached for her shoulders, pulling her into his arms—“are you all right?”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“I thought you were Death. I thought Death was coming to take me. My God, Eva, run. Please run before I can hurt you again. I beg you.”
“Stop saying those things,” she said.
“But I’m hallucinating badly.”
She put a hand to his forehead. “Your skin is on fire.”
“This is the end.”
“Stop it.”
“I can feel it.”
She pulled his head back by his hair. “Stop saying those things. Look at me, Henry Asheford. You are not dying. Hallucinations are a part of withdrawal. That’s all. The poison is leaving your body.”
“But I saw Mother,” he said in a hushed tone. “She was waiting for me at the foot of my bed. What do you think that means? My time is limited. Tell me, please, tell me you forgive me before I go.”
Eva’s face paled.
“Forgive me,” he continued. “I will not rest peacefully unless I hear the words.”
Her face scrunched up. She held his jaw with her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve forgiven you long ago, but I swear to all that is holy in this godforsaken universe, I will never forgive you if you die on me. Do you hear me, Henry Asheford? Tell me you hear me.”
Elation fluttered in his belly.
“Say it,” she said, shaking his jaw.
“I hear you.”
“Right,” she breathed. “I will call Elias, and we’ll get you into a cold bath.”
He nodded weakly.
As they waited for Elias, Henry’s head lopped forward onto her shoulder. He clung to her, his head heavy with exhaustion, the sound of her rapid breaths roaring in his ears.
“What is it?” Elias’s voice boomed in the room.
“His fever is dangerously high. Can you draw another cold bath, please?”
“Christ.”
“Before you go, can you help me sit him on the bed? And watch out, there’s broken glass all over the floor,” Eva said.
When Henry was sat on the bed, Eva crawled behind him, securing him upright with her arms around his torso. She rested her chin upon his shoulder. Her hair tickled the nape of his neck.
Basking in her warmth, sleep called to him. His eyes fell shut.
“What’s your pain level?” she said.
When he did not answer, his head was gently pulled back.
“Can you hear me?” Her voice was loud in his ear.
“Mm-hmm.”
“What’s your pain level?”
“Painful.”
“On a scale of one to ten.”
He coughed, making him aware of the hollowness in his belly. “I believe it to be unmeasurable.”
“Then that’s another thing I need to fix.”
“You said I was too broken.”
“I was angry.” Her voice cracked. “I was so angry with you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not believing your story.” She sobbed. “The things you’ve gone through—”
“Do not apologize for doing what was necessary to protect yourself.”
Her body shook with silent tears.
He touched her hand. “I will fix myself.”
With whatever strength he had left, he would try to comfort her. Although his head still spun in a confusing mess, in Eva’s arms he felt safe. As always, she was his beam of light in the darkness. Like a pillar of strength, she held him up. Like an anchor on a ship, she grounded him through the violent storm of despair. He would be damned if he ever made her cry again.
Several minutes later, he was lifted onto Elias’s back. On his way to the bath, he shut his eyes because the hallucinations had returned. Shadows scurried about the corners of the room like scattering mice in an alley. He heard his father’s wails, the harrowing sound he’d only heard twice: once with his mother’s death, and the second with his brother, Rhys.
Elias manoeuvered him into the bathwater, and the breath left his lungs. His eyes widened as the freezing water surrounded him.
There were no more shadows. No more darkness. Only a dozen candles illuminating the white tiles of Elias’s bathroom.
“How’s the water?” Eva said.
He shivered. Icy. Bone-chilling. “It could be warmer,” he said, his teeth chattering.
She knelt beside the bath and dunked her hand into the water. “You’re right, it could be much warmer. It’s only for a few minutes until we get your temperature down. Then I’ll take you back to bed and bundle you up.”
“Eva?”
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
She lay an arm along the edge of the bath and rested her chin on the back of her hand. With a tilt of her head, she looked him in the eye.
“Please don’t tell me you found my embarrassing selfies from years back on my phone,” she said.
His lips twitched. “If you mean photographs, I did. Even the one when you coloured your hair blue. I did wonder what on earth compelled you to do such a thing.”
“Because I could, but mostly it was boredom,” she said.
“It did suit you.”
A subtle smile crossed her face. “What did you want to tell me?”
What he would tell was an intimate detail of his days in New York. If he were not feeling like death, he may have never confessed to this.
“I was utterly miserable in New York, so I sought to escape as often as possible,” he said slowly. “Whether with laudanum or your music, there were many times when you came to me. You were always a radiant picture of health, happiness and hope. It gave me comfort in thinking what I had done was worth it because you were safe.”
She pressed her face into her arm.
“I do not say this to bring you guilt, but rather, to leave no stone unturned.” He breathed through the pain in his body. “In case I may die.”
She looked up, with a fierce, tearful expression. “Stop that right now. You’re not dying.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “No more talking, okay? Focus on relaxing. I can already feel your skin cooling. How’s your pain now?”
“A bit more manageable,” he replied.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s keep it that way.”