Page 80 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

MAEVYTH

A hard bang cracked through the void and hurled me awake with a gasp.

Darkness surrounded me, and I sat up from the wooden pew, an ache in my jaw from the hard, wooden surface and moisture clinging to my cheek where I’d drooled.

I wiped my sleeve across it, recalled dozing off earlier in the evening.

Another heavy thud, that one overhead, sent a startling jolt through my body, and with an upward glance toward the temple’s high, arched ceiling, I darted through the darkness, up the staircase to the corridor, where I slowed my steps on spotting Father and Aleysia outside Zevander’s door.

“Oh, there she is,” Aleysia said, the relief in her voice accompanied by a sharp exhale. “Thank goodness. I thought he’d thrown you across the room in there.”

I shook my head, closing the distance between us. “I’m fine. It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

“What is he doing in there?” Father whispered.

“He…sometimes has fits in his sleep.”

“A sleepwalker?”

“Yes,” I lied, knowing it was far more complicated than mere sleepwalking.

Father sighed. “I’ve suffered myself a time or two.” He must’ve bathed at some point during the evening, leaving his skin far less grimy than earlier, and he’d found a clean tunic and trousers.

Feigning a smile, I placed my hand on his arm. “I hope we’ll have the opportunity to catch up, Father. But please, both of you, go back to bed. I’ll check on him.”

As they retreated, the tight hold of my worries unraveled.

Zevander’s shouts bled through the door, and with a held breath, I carefully pushed it open.

Furniture lay tipped on its side, and bits of broken glass crunched beneath my boots when I stepped inside the room.

“You will not tell her anything, or by gods, I will rip out your tongue with my bare hands!” Zevander threw open the door of the closet across the room, a dagger clutched in his hand. “Show yourself.”

“Zevander?” I called out softly so as not to startle him, but he didn’t respond. Didn’t turn to acknowledge me, as he tore across the room for the bed.

He raised the thick, wooden furniture as if it were weightless, revealing nothing beneath, and let it fall with a weighty thud that echoed through the room.

Outside the window, a massive eye peered in—Raivox watching him.

Or stalking him, as it seemed, the way his eye narrowed, following Zevander’s every move.

Zevander paced, muttering to himself, and spun around, his dagger outstretched. “Where are you? I can hear you whispering, you wretched cunt!”

Heart pounding in my throat, I inched deeper into the room. “Zevander, is everything okay?”

Still, he didn’t answer, but continued searching the room for whatever invisible thing seemed to be taunting him.

Outside the window, a guttural snarl uncoiled in Raivox’s throat and a white mist blasted against the window as he let out a grunt.

“Easy, Raivox,” I whispered, raising my hand to settle him.

The deep croaking and snarling didn’t cease as he visually stalked Zevander, perhaps sensing something I couldn’t.

I needed to break Zevander of whatever spell he was under, or he’d end up like one of those silver statues Raivox had crafted out of the spiders.

“Zevander!” I shouted, wincing at the rough tone of my voice, and at last, he spun around.

His pupils widened like inkblots on parchment, swallowing his irises.

Raivox’s snarling heightened to a warning growl, the scrape of claws against stone like shifting armor and grinding on my rattled nerves.

I let my gaze shift to the Corvugon only long enough to shake my head. Please , I silently mouthed, in hopes he’d understand. Raivox hissed and struck his beak against the window, taunting Zevander away from me.

Eyes like a void, Zevander ignored the threat at his back and stalked toward me.

The knife in his hand only stoked my fear, and I slowly back myself away. “Zevander, please. Raivox is watching your every step.” My attention flickered between the two, and I caught a lash of that silver flame strike the air through the window pane.

“I did not willingly give you my seed.” Zevander bared his teeth like a rabid animal. “You took from me. You took everything from me!” He charged toward me, and his palm caught my throat at the same time the wall crashed into my spine.

I winced as the pain spiraled up into my sinuses.

An ear-splitting roar shattered the window across the room, and still, Zevander didn’t so much as flinch at the clamor.

Not even when a sharp breeze snuffed the hearth’s fire, nor when Raivox swiped his massive claw into the room, still too far away to reach the two of us.

Pressure at my throat tightened, and through an explosion of stars, I watched stones bust away from the wall, as Raivox fought to get inside.

The black veins across Zevander’s face had darkened, and the tendrils had crawled into the corner of his eye, devouring some of the sclera there. He released my throat, quickly replacing his hand with the blade.

A flicker of silver lashed through the window, not long enough to reach Zevander, but I knew better. I knew that flame would strike true, if the Corvugon intended.

“Raivox, no!” I managed to scream through a hacking cough. “No!”

As if he could sense my urgency, the Corvugon let out a hiss and settled onto whatever perch he’d found outside the window. Watching. Waiting.

Zevander lifted the blade, tipping my chin up, and again, I could hear the low rumble of Raivox growling through the walls.

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared back at a face that I didn’t recognize.

Grief and rage battled in a tightly woven mask that hid the man I knew. Whatever Zevander was staring at, it wasn’t me. No, he looked beyond me, to whatever demons clawed at his thoughts.

“Zevander,” I whispered, and a tear trickled down my cheek. “My protector.”

His pupils shrank and swelled, his muscles trembling with a wild rage as he held me pinned to the wall.

“I’m Maevyth. Not the one who hurt you.” I dared to raise a trembling hand, pressing my palm to his cheek.

A second of clarity flickered in his eyes, and he winced, his hand faltering. The edge of the blade scraped over my skin with the movement, and I sucked in a breath, stilling myself. I swallowed back the emotions rising to my throat. “You’re not there. You’re safe. With me. Come back to me.”

His eyes held a shine, and he clenched his teeth. “You’re lying. You’re a liar. This is another one of your tricks.”

“I’m not a liar. I’m the one who loves you.” Had I not been treading a fine thread of death, it might’ve surprised me how easily those words rolled off my tongue. Hand still shaking, I stroked a thumb across his cheek. “I love you. Come back to me.”

His pupils shrank again, slowly unveiling those familiar eyes. He stared a moment longer, then breached whatever surface had held him under, sucking in a sharp breath.

He stumbled backward. Blood drained from his face as it slackened with disbelief, as if I’d stabbed him. He dropped the dagger to the floor with a clang.

“Zevander, wait.” I reached out for him, but he backed himself farther away, avoiding my grasp.

His face tightened, his expression shattered, torn apart by shock and something that chilled my blood.

A look more frightening than the rage I’d seen moments before.

I glanced down at the blade lying on the floor between us, and the moment he fell to his knees, I swiped it up before he could reach it.

Instead of fighting me for it, he gripped either side of his skull and let out a sound of agony, so raw and painful, it brought tears to my eyes again. Every muscle in his body shook, breaths ragged, as he doubled over.

Fists hammering against the door razed the silence between us and snapped me to attention. “Maeve! Are you alright in there?” Aleysia called out. “I heard glass break.”

“Rest assured, I’d already be dead by the time you crawled out of bed to investigate, but I’m fine!

” Though there wasn’t a shred of humor pulsing through me, I’d kept the response light for her sake.

When no other response arrived, I turned back to Zevander, who hadn’t moved from where he remained curled into himself.

I carefully knelt before him, uncertain whether, or not, he’d slipped back into his head. When he didn’t lurch toward me, I reached out a hand as cautiously as if I were approaching a wounded animal. The second my fingertips met his shoulder, he jerked away from me again and scrambled backward.

“Don’t do this.”

His gaze finally met mine, and I didn’t have to crawl beneath his skin to feel the ruin and shame that was swallowing him.

Clawing at him with merciless hatred. “I almost killed you.” His voice held a dangerous tremor, a slowly unwinding restraint.

“I almost dragged a fucking blade across your throat and ended your life ,” he growled.

The anger in his eyes shifted back to pain, as if those visuals had sprung to life behind his eyes. “What I saw?—”

“Wasn’t real. Your mind was lost to something else.”

“Yes. My mind was lost, and I almost destroyed you because of it.”

“Whatever you were a moment ago, is not who you are in this moment. Right now.”

“It is who I am!” he snapped, raking his hand over his head. “You are getting generous glimpses of what lives inside of me. What I have dedicated my existence to never setting free. Years, I’ve had to learn to rein this in, and I’m losing control of it!”

“And in spite of what I’ve seen, I still love you.”

“If you knew what writhes inside of me. In my head.” He thumped the heel of his hand against his temple.

“I would still love you.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that again.”