Page 24 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest

We were sixteen doing a group presentation on the effects of advances in technology on the Fae Wars.

I had done my part, albeit quietly, and Damien took over.

He was projecting to the group, being his natural charming self.

I remember I couldn’t stop staring. I almost missed my mark to speak again.

He smiled at me and I at him. There were some choice words afterwards from less savory people but I could block out who I wanted. It was just him.

We were fourteen and in the museum. I was telling Damien about the vase on the table, the colors and symbols, reciting what my father had taught me. He looked over, fascinated, and exclaimed, “You’re amazing, Cor!” He was chided by passing staff for his volume but it didn’t matter.

I had been standing for a while and my shower was growing steadily colder. My body jolted and I quickly slathered on some body wash. Grabbing my towel I wrapped it around after stopping. I didn’t hear anything else.

Rubbing both hands over my eyes, I peered into the mirror. Slightly more humanoid.

After scrounging for some clean clothes, I plopped myself back in the chair, facing him. Sighing, I tipped my head back, staring.

I opened my eyes again when the glare from the sun hit me. Shit. I had lost time. This is what I get for sleeping in the chair. He hadn’t changed. I dragged myself up to the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth and towel. If that was the first bath I’d had in days, he was likely the same.

It would probably be the most awkward bath he’d ever have if he was awake. Still in a pair of shorts, I scrubbed up and down his limbs, neck, chest. At least he was a bit cleaner now. I was mostly satisfied and turned him again while I was kneeling.

The rest of the day passed with crossword puzzles and books.

Around 5:30, I noticed a familiar sheen of sweat on his head.

I dropped what I was doing and got up, promptly going to my knees with dizziness.

Oh right. My food and water intake had been minimal today.

Dummy, I chided myself. You can’t heal him if you’re running on fumes.

I replaced the ice packs and went to my fridge. An apple, peanut butter and some ice-cold water was enough to dull the headache and stop the spinning.

At six I heard a knock and opened the door. Jace was easily 110 years old with some white hair through his silvery strands. He looked alarmed at my appearance.

“Woah, you OK, kiddo?”

I sighed. “I don’t really have time to explain but bottom line is, I’m helping someone else.”

Eyes widened, he nodded, handing the turquoise crystal to me. I slid it to an adjoining table and handed over the painting. His eyes brightened and slid over the canvas.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Let me know if you need anything else, OK?”

I nodded gratefully. “Thanks, old friend.”

He turned and I closed the door.

I stopped. Did I need the crystal? Should I just try it on my own? I promptly rejected both. I’m not sure why my magic was odd a few days ago at Filla’s but I’m taking no chances. I’ll take the power boost. Besides, I don’t know if it’ll make the slightest bit of difference.

I set the crystal at the head of the couch, grasping him lightly at the wrists. I summoned up the magic as best I could but opened my eyes and saw nothing.

Relax, Cora, relax. You’re blocking yourself. Think of something good.

Only a few days ago I had told him that I missed him and I was his friend and I’d fight for him. There, a little spark. Keep going. He hugged me in the bar. I told him how proud of him I was.

Little Dae and Little Cor running around together.

There was a warm glow across my closed eyes.

My magic looked like golden licks of fire.

I had never seen it take that form before but I’d never used a crystal before.

The flames seemed alive as they crawled over his form, up his arms, under and around his head.

I pushed harder, determined to rid all fever from him.

I could feel the strain come on quickly.

Feels like a block on your ribcage, pushing all the air from your lungs, cramping up your whole back.

I let go before I passed out. I got to my feet, shakily, and tumbled towards my water bottle. I suck it down greedily.

Damien looks better though. Not sweaty or off color. I swear my magic even gave him a collagen boost. The scar’s still there though.

The frustration and bargaining are back. I’m glad it worked but why isn’t he waking up? He looks runway ready but still won’t wake.

Exhausted, I dropped into my chair, feeling the burn of tears surfacing.

Why was I doing this?

Because I love him. Even if he never loves me the same. Even if he wakes up different. Or if he never wakes up. I love him and I need to get the chance to tell him. I’d do anything for him. Always had and always would. My chest burned as two tears struggled their way down.

Please gods, just send him back to me.

Thursday

I really didn’t want to get up today. Getting the strength to get out of this chair was getting impossible.

I had dreams of my father for most of the night, how I had to take care of him like this and how profoundly it had affected me.

We had been in his workshop for one of them.

He was restoring a piece and I was watching on the side.

I’d make a comment or two but he never heard me.

He never answered. I got off the bench and went to his side but couldn’t touch him.

He took off his work gloves, calling for me, calling for my mother.

I was screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs that I was there but he walked away when I was glued to the floor.

I woke up while it was still inky black outside, listening to Dae’s rhythmic breathing. It helped a little and I pulled the blanket up, trying to nestle in again.

We were in the courtroom. Daemon himself was handcuffing my struggling father.

I was pushing through the people, trying to get to him, shouting.

Daemon led him outside, pulled him like a dog on a leash, and suddenly we were in the cemetery.

He was pushing him into his grave. I jumped in as the rain of dirt came down, digging, digging but not getting much closer to his spluttering form.

When I woke up again, the cheerful sun was smiling through. I didn’t share its enthusiasm. The combination of the healing, stress and poor sleep left me bleary eyed and drained. At least he looked OK today. No fevers.

That was good at least.

I put my head back against the chair, unwilling to get up.

I wasn’t sure if anything short of a natural disaster or Dae waking up would move me.

Fatigued seemed like too simple a word. It felt like it was taking too much energy to breathe.

I knew I would drag myself out of the chair to move him, tend him, do anything that he needed but in a few minutes. My soul could only take so much.

The dreams didn’t do much to help me either.

What if he never woke up? He had been so drained, so badly damaged. Filla gave me a shot, gave him a shot. I could only hope his body pulled through.

My sweet Damien, what did you do to yourself? The thought was an intrusive and insidious demon, poisoning my mood more.

I didn’t stray from the living room and kitchen all day.

Friday

Friday brought a well-needed full night’s sleep. I was able to shake off some of the doldrums and attempt to take care of myself. Food, drink, repeat, shower. I was able to summon a bit more enthusiasm today.

I thought about sending Filla a message but to what end? There was nothing she could do. We were six days into this nightmare.

Saturday

Day seven. I keep foolishly thinking he’s going to pop back at midnight. I blame my lot of folk lore, mythology and fairy tales. Ten thirty-four was just as likely as midnight. Midnight came and went. With it, most of my hope.

Sunday

Day eight. Not much has changed. Same routine. Take care of him, eat some food, shower.

Monday

Day nine. Utter and complete despair.

It hurts too much to hold on to hope.