Page 100 of Cold-Blooded Creatures

He cleared his throat. “Damia and Conall woke me up when they learned about Zion and the others missing. I waited for an hour before setting off to pace the surrounding forests. Dawn broke, but not a single person had returned. At that point, I was certain of one thing. Nobody would die anymore. I rounded up a group of fifteen to go after them. But when we arrived at the city, we found only four alive, including him.” Gedeon pushed away from the table and rested his elbows on his knees; the squeal of the stool’s wheels grating on my ears. “We managed to get him and the other three back to the compound, but we lost eight more on the way. Forty-two people died in total because he had decided his sister’s life was more valuable than those of the rest of us. Forty-two people died because he could not control his rage, because he let vengeance cloud his logic, because of his inability to restrain himself.”

“What did you do?” I repeated, hissing.

“We couldn’t have anyone acting this recklessly. I had just been handed a leadership role and could not appear weak in the aftermath of war.” He ripped at the ends of his hair so harshly it had to ache. “I had to make an example out of him. Stupidity was to be punished.” A muscle in his jaw feathered. “The next day, we were burning our dead. In front of everyone gathered around the funeral fire, I told him to outstretch his arm above the blaze and hold it there until the burns became sufficient enough to scar. I had to leave a permanent reminder of the consequences. The forty-two deaths he had caused.”

I stumbled away from the table. He had punished Zion by forcing him to burn his own arm. No wonder Zion had becomeZionafter that.

I released my hair out of the bun and puffed it out. I always kept it short, a few inches below my shoulders, but having it loose made me feel like I had a protective wall around me. And the chill currently creeping up my nape called for it.

Their parents had been tortured in front of them. The same couples who had raised their children with survival at the forefront of their minds and ingrained the same into their kids, so they had no choice but to do what they’d been taught.

And then they had to take over their parents’ work immediately, all while dealing with the loss of their families. I had no clue what it meant to lose those who cared about you, but my shudders didn’t originate from the cold swirling in the infirmary.

They arose from their story. A memory. A nightmare.

Zion’s sister had killed herself while he raced to save her. People died because of it. Gedeon went after him. More people died. So Gedeon punished him. And Zion went through it, choosing to follow his leader’s order.

My head hurt just thinking about it.

And they had lived with it.

For years.

“No one will die because of me again,” Zion said, his voice so resigned and at peace with what had befallen him that a scream at how wrong it was threatened to tear me apart.

“This”—I searched for words—“is a mess. So fucked up that I don’t know what to say.” The tattoo curling around Zion’s right forearm stole my attention. On the inner side, flames licked up the trunks and foliage of a forest. Three silhouettes of birds sat atop the branches, drowning in ruthless flames while the fourth beat its wings high in the air. “Your tattoo. That’s your family and you, isn’t it?”

Three birds for two parents and the sibling. The fourth for the sole survivor.

He nodded.

So he carried two permanent reminders. The first decided by Gedeon and yet his choice for agreeing to go through with it, and the second picked out by himself and masked as a sign of trust and closeness to Gedeon.

I paced the room, focusing on the rhythm of my footfalls to calm the storm bellowing inside me. They’d both done what they’d deemed right in the moment. They both had paid for it. And they both had broken something in each other with it. Something they hadn’t been able to repair since.

What happened between you?I’d asked Gedeon that night at Vice.

Something I cannot undo,he’d responded.

If you could, would you go back and change it?I’d pressed.

In a heartbeat, he’d revealed.

Laughter bubbled up in my chest, and I covered my mouth. Was this how it’d go from now on? Gedeon and I hurting Zion any chance we got?

“How do you feel?”

“What?” I snapped at Gedeon. He was sitting on the stool that my feet itched to kick from underneath him.

I quickened my pacing.

“How do you feel?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.You burned his arm, Gedeon. For trying to save his sister.”

“I did. There is no denying it.” Quiet to not awaken Zion serenely sleeping away his nightmare of a memory, he rummaged in the closet and emerged carrying two cloths. He ran them under the faucet and handed me one, the fabric warm from the hot water.

Gedeon cleaned the sweat, caked-up blood, and dirt from Zion’s upper body while I took care of his face. After we cleansed him as best as we could, Gedeon threw both small towels in the sink and dampened a fresh one. “Can I?” he asked, his hand hovering an inch from my face.