Chapter 29 Saskia
Iswallow my inhale as the woman’s eyes lock onto mine.
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just—I’m one of the new Chosen Ones and… I hope I didn’t startle you.”
I back up a step to avoid frightening her any further, but in truth, I’m the one who’s startled. Because this woman still hasn’t moved a muscle, only her pupils falling to track the movement of my mouth while her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.
With a pause, I glance over my shoulder at the door I left cracked open.
I’m obviously intruding on a moment of rest, but something about the way she looks so alert clashes with the way she’s lying there, unmoving.
Like there’s a panic scrabbling its way out of her peaceful expression, begging me not to leave quite so soon.
“Is it okay if I sit with you?” I ask when her attention doesn’t leave my mouth, suddenly feeling like I’m one of the caretakers at the Assisted Living Facility.
This woman can’t be much older than a green-badge, but there’s a stale mustiness emanating from the sheets, as if the dust motes in this room have settled long ago.
Ever so slowly and painstakingly, her chin rises and dips with a strange grinding sound I might have imagined. A nod. I settle on the edge of her bed and, after a moment of hesitation, lay my hand over hers, shivering at how cold it is. How brittle.
She’s dying, I tell Lucan with a healer’s certainty, sorrow and frustration ripping through me at the realization. Whatever the vampire venom does to us, she’s had too much of it. She’s near the end.
Out loud, I plaster a smile on my face and say, “I’m Saskia. Can you tell me what your name is?”
A few seconds tick by. Her mouth twitches, like she’s chewing on a mouthful of words. Then, as if it costs her the greatest effort, she shakes her head. The same grinding sound pierces my eardrums. I definitely didn’t imagine it this time.
My heart squeezes painfully, but her free hand trembles as she lifts her wrist, and my gaze snaps to her fingers as they pinch together. Her hand rotates with creaking slowness, then falls back into her lap with a defeated slump.
I cover the back of her hand with my palm, not wanting her to move even an inch. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me…”
My gaze returns to her face, her nose and mouth and the color of her eyes, and suddenly, my heartbeat drums against my ribcage as I realize why she looks so familiar. And why she keeps staring at my mouth as I form words.
“Are… are you… having trouble hearing me?”
She gives me a meaningful blink that I think might mean yes.
Our daughter was born hard of hearing and had to spend her whole life with hearing aids, but Diggory made up his own language with her using just his hands so that she could take them off when all the noises became too overwhelming.
That’s what Belinda had told me back in her housing unit, and even though this woman doesn’t have any hearing aids in, I can see the resemblance.
She’s a perfect mix of her mother and father.
“Are you Diggory’s daughter?” I ask.
Her eyes widen at the way my mouth moves, reading the question on my lips. She doesn’t even have to nod. I’m already getting up, shutting her door, and returning with an idea brewing in my head. In the space Lucan occupies, to be exact.
You can talk to anyone who’s touching this vial? I ask him.
Yes. He sounds surprised yet impressed as he catches wind of my unfurling idea. But I’m not sure if I can talk to two humans at the same time.
Only one way to find out, then. If Diggory’s daughter can’t speak and I can’t understand her attempts at sign language, then maybe I can talk to her mind-to-mind just like I’m talking to Lucan.
Just… I hesitate. Maybe don’t reveal that you’re the Monster.
That might actually give her a heart attack in her current condition.
Who am I supposed to be? Your sexy imaginary friend?
I suppress a smile. Something like that.
Before our conversation can drag on too long, as it so often does, I dig under the skirts of my dress to slide the necklace down my leg and over my foot.
The woman’s eyes flare with shock when I hold it up, the blood-red vial catching a beam of sunlight from the window.
A million thoughts seem to swirl behind her irises, so I don’t waste time to give her an ability to communicate.
Gripping the necklace tight, I grab the woman’s hand and press the vial against her skin, sandwiching it between our clasped palms.
Instantly, a new presence zaps my bloodstream, joining Lucan’s rich, dark aura. Hers is surprisingly strong but panicked, like the branches of a tree grabbing hold of both of us in a vice-like grip, reeling herself in as if she’s on the cusp of drowning.
It’s okay, I say as soothingly as possible. I know it feels funny, but this will help us communicate.
Diggory’s daughter gives a slow couple blinks in my direction, then her questions explode in my mind. Who are you? How did you get that necklace? What happened to my father? Is he alright? Why are you here? Fear bursts through her pupils. How did you get that necklace? she repeats.
Praying that Lucan stays silent like a good imaginary friend until I can calm her down, I tighten my grip on her hand. Your father actually gave this to me.
The woman swallows thickly and furrows her brows, wrinkles spiderwebbing like cracks in marble across her forehead.
If I know one thing about my father, it’s that he didn’t trust anyone. He didn’t give that to you. So let me ask again—how did you get it?
I frown down at her as I mull over her question, her tone, and her general urgency.
When I first heard Lucan’s voice in my head, I was going in circles trying to figure out if I’d gone crazy, but Diggory’s daughter doesn’t seem even remotely surprised to be communicating mind-to-mind. Only suspicious of my motives.
Your father… I start hesitantly. The sentries were taking him, and he threw the necklace. I picked it up and have been hiding it this whole time. Do you know how he got it?
She doesn’t answer the question. Not yet. Her eyes gloss over, a single tear welling in one of the corners. They took him? The sentries really took him?
I don’t try to sugarcoat the expression on my face, not when she deserves to know the truth. Yes. I don’t know if he’s still somewhere here in the Blood Moon Palace or…
My thoughts trail off, and she swallows thickly again, her presence already sinking into a hollow type of grief. Her gaze travels down the length of my arm to where the vial is clasped between our palms, though no part of the rest of her body moves.
That necklace. I gave it to him.
My mouth drops open, and judging by the rustling in my mind, I can tell Lucan is struggling to keep his thoughts reined in. You gave it to him?
I guess I should say I hid it for him. He must have found it. It’s a long story. As she thinks those words, a foreign memory flashes across my mind: my—her—hands, grasping this very necklace by the chain.
Trying to don my healer’s persona, I snap my mouth closed and put on my most comforting smile. Well, I’m a Chosen One now, too. Seems like there’s nothing to do until the balconies open up again, right? Might as well listen to a story.
Diggory’s daughter glances at the closed door over my shoulder. If you’re new, you’ve still got a chance. You should try to escape while you’ve got your strength left.
My smile falters ever so slightly. Believe me. I’m trying.
You call this trying? she snaps. If either of our Guardians walks in here and finds us with this necklace, we’re dead sooner rather than later. They don’t think anyone notices, but there’s been quite a ruckus among them ever since I stole it from the Third one.
Another foreign memory flashes across my mind: the sound of thumping footsteps, shouts, the hallway blurring past. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
You stole the necklace from the Third Guardian? I ask in disbelief. Why? How?
Apparently, Lucan has just as many questions, because his thoughts burst past his mental barrier before I can stop him. Now that is a story I’d like to hear.
Diggory’s daughter shrieks internally, and I have the distinct impression that if she could move, she’d be swatting at her ear right about now. Who was that?
Don’t pay him any attention, I grit out. He won’t harm you.
The tone of my voice is more of a warning to Lucan than any consolation to her. If he starts pulling out snide comments like he did to me when we first met, she won’t want anything else to do with us.
Don’t worry, Lucan agrees. I don’t bite. After a slight pause, he adds, Usually.
If I could smack him right now, I would.
Even though her face hasn’t moved, Diggory’s daughter seems to narrow her gaze at me anyway. It’s him, isn’t it? The one the Third Guardian was always talking to? I never knew who was on the other end, but I thought it might be someone who could save us all. That’s why I…
Her thoughts fade away, and a few memories flash across our connection, too fast for me to grab hold of them. I rub my thumb over her knuckles in soothing circles.
You don’t even have to tell me. Just… close your eyes and reimagine what happened for me. I think I’ll be able to see it through your memories. And then I promise you, I won’t just try to escape. I’ll help you and your father escape, too.
She doesn’t need to read the earnestness in my eyes to know I’m telling the truth. There’s an implicit relay of honesty using this method of communication, and I can already feel her mind caving as she lets her eyes drift shut again.
And her memories burst to life.
A too-warm breeze picks up over the Blood Moon Palace courtyard, making the sticky sweat prickle on my—no, Diggory’s daughter’s—skin. It must be a summer night, when the humidity is so dense you can almost taste it on your tongue.