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Chapter 39

Adrian

M y skin itched where the black marks of the sun stretched across it. I swore on it, even if I couldn't feel the irritating sensation. The marks should hurt, and it only confused my poor brain when they didn't. I scratched and prodded until blood welled, and I had to pull away to stop the risk of making the new wound worse.

They sealed closed a few seconds later, slower than I ever remembered them taking before.

I lay in bed, awake as the others slept, staring at the ceiling with endless thoughts running along in my head. Bodies were strewn about around me, the comforting sound of easy sleep almost enough to drag me back under myself. The Call was still there, though much less now, not quite as sated as Fallon's had been. Not that I would ever complain about it.

Aaliyah had been perfect, everything that I could ever have dreamed of. I ran my hand up and down her side, her shirt having ridden up enough for me to touch skin. A reminder to myself that she was here, real .

She was every ounce of love that I'd wanted for so long.

I ran a hand over her hair next, the white silky tresses flowing under my fingers. I went to her cheek, brushing against the skin, needing just a second more to touch her.

I'd done it a lot the last few days. Sought out her affection, even if I didn't deserve it after Archon cracked me open. I searched for the warmth I knew she carried, hunted down every second I could to try to plant myself in the present.

To convince myself I wasn't in the lamp.

But with every touch, every kiss, and every moment I had, the more I worried. Archon took away my pain, stole a part of me when he'd ripped the bonds out of my chest and off my arm. I could have lived with that, had it been just that.

The days seemed darker, colors less vivid even in the places I'd known them to shine most brightly. My kinder emotions felt brittle, pushed aside for a rage that came in waves and threatened to swallow me whole.

I could have lived with that.

I ran a shaking finger across her eyelash, my nose touching hers as she huffed out a sleepy breath. One I only knew happened because I'd seen it. The flush of her skin was the only indication she could feel me.

Because I couldn't feel the warmth.

It wasn't a fact that I'd really considered after being pulled from the roof. It'd been too chaotic to think about anything else, and all my focus had been on the pain. The lack of pain. I hadn't even considered that it was worse than that.

I ran a shaking thumb over her lip again. No matter how many times I looked, how many times I touched … I hadn't felt since Archon's, since my deal . Not pain, not touch, not pleasure .

I'd hoped I was wrong, that the shock had stripped it away, that I hadn't destroyed something integral to myself by taking that deal. A deal that I'd been too weak to resist. A deal that had broken me in not even four hours … and it had given us nothing, and Archon everything.

I hadn't felt Aaliyah last night, even with all that passion and lust. Even when I felt it in my head and in my chest, and my body told me I should be reacting. I could see it in every move she made, and every moan I had the good luck to hear. I hadn't even been able to get hard or feel the sparks that had once bubbled up when I touched her. Those hints of fire no longer even embers.

I pressed a final kiss to her cheek, savoring the flush on her cheeks that came from it, wishing I could feel the spark that used to burst under the touch of her skin. Her eyes slid open, dazed from sleep as she looked over her shoulder at me.

"Adrian?" she asked, her voice husky after the rather rigorous night Fallon had put her through. She rolled in Fallon's arms, and he grumbled at her back, pulling her close again once she was situated with her front facing me.

"Go back to sleep, love," I whispered as I sat up, rubbing my eyes with shaking palms.

"Are you going out?" she asked, and I nodded.

I took her hand, searching for a feeling that wasn't there.

"Yeah, I'll be back soon, though," I promised.

She hummed, rubbing her thumb along my palm. Her fingers traveled up, landing on the blank space on my wrist.

"I can come with you, if you need me," she said, and I shook my head.

I kissed her wrist before I tucked her back in against Fal. I couldn't help but lean in, stealing a kiss from her pursed lips. My fangs fell, my eyes flashing red for a moment. The Call came like a flash, ending in a shiver down my spine as I pulled fully away.

"Stay with Fally," I whispered, standing and backing away. It hurt, almost like a physical ache I knew was there but couldn't feel, to move away from her. Her eyebrows furrowed before her head dipped back down to the pillow. "I'll be back before you know it."

I threw on a fresh set of clothes, crept out the door, and closed it with a soft click. I was careful to move, sneaking out without a sound.

Archon had won one round, and I only had so much time before the next. I needed to find someone that could remove the deal, get him to go back on it, or break the terms …

Or I could just fucking kill him and be done with it. That would be nice.

Whichever way I went, I'd need a bridge, most likely a person that had been slighted by Archon before, and who wouldn't mind putting the Djinn in his place.

The room I was met with had adjusted again, more minute details taking up the walls. Even the step of my foot, and the creak on wooden floors, was familiar now. I moved to the kitchen, more or less on autopilot as I pulled varying ingredients from the fridge. The Eternium had mostly stopped changing our room at this point, the kitchen a near replica of the one at home. I reached for the milk, and it was exactly where it should have been.

It was honestly kind of creepy.

The Collector came forward, and a plan began in the roots of my brain. I could find a way to corner him for a fight … a Retaliation. What happened to me wasn't grounds, but I knew people with enough anger toward him to go hunting. There had to be someone that Archon had scorned enough to warrant one.

I cut up vegetables and some ham, whisked a few eggs, and was well on the way to an omelet, when a door cracked open. I tensed, waiting for the sour scent of gold to fill the air. The soft trail of footsteps startled me enough for my grip to slip as I flipped around.

Fallon leaned over the island.

I let out a shaking breath, squinting when he huffed and looked at my hand. Blood gushed out of a slice that had cut clean into my palm, deep enough I could see the white of bone and tendon. I cursed, grabbing one of the kitchen towels to stop the bleeding. I glared at the floor, and the unfortunate puddle that now sat at my feet. I'd have to mop that up before Osiris got back.

This wasn't technically our home, but I wasn't going to risk pissing him off today by getting blood on his precious floors.

"You okay?" Fallon asked, face carefully neutral when I hummed. I flitted to the sink, putting my hand under the water, grimacing as it took precious more seconds for the blood to stop.

"Just peachy, Fal. You need to learn to not sneak up on people," I grumbled as Fallon pushed away from the island and walked over to me. "I could have lost a finger, and I do not want to see the process for regrowing one of those."

He stood, all macho energy mixed with a pissed-off expression that didn't exactly scream "open for conversation." He crossed his arms, dipping his head toward me. "What's going on, Adrian?"

I raised a brow, pointing to the bowl I'd been prepping, making sure to speak nice and slow so he'd hear me. And because I would never slip on a chance to piss him off. "I'm making an omelet . It's not rocket science."

I pulled my hand back to my chest, drying it, before tossing the towel into the sink so I could deal with it later. Fallon might be slick, but I wasn't in the mood to spill my soul to him.

This was my mistake, my burden, and I'd bear it. Regret closed my throat and made me sick.

"Cut the bullshit. Don't act like you haven't been anywhere but in your own head. It's insulting," Fallon said, surprisingly level-headed for a man that was pretty much always one mocking comment away from a fistfight. "Archon still fucking you up?"

How eloquent.

"Yeah, that's it," I said with a wave of my hand, taking great care to hold the cracked pieces of my mask in place, grinning at him cheekily, as I picked up the bowl again. I whisked the contents, staring into them as I took a steadying breath. "He's a tricky bastard, isn't he? As I'm sure you know."

I looked at him, eyeing the side where I knew his mark to be, the one that had been his curse to bear. He'd only shown it once, and I was curious if it'd gotten any worse.

If the thorns had grown any closer to his heart.

"You're deflecting," he said, not taking the bait.

"And you're a buzzkill," I pushed, slightly more aggressive than I should have been, gritting my teeth when Fallon's eyes narrowed further. Why did he have to choose now to learn how to hold a conversation? I set the bowl on the counter. "If you'll excuse me, I've lost my appetite. Finish this for me? Ali likes her omelets with bits of red onion on top. Don't forget it. Ketchup's in the fridge."

When I moved, Fallon mirrored me. When I went to walk around the island, he was there, too, and I couldn't help the dry laugh that came barreling out of my chest.

Damned frigid asshole.

"No," he said, still crossing his arms, still acting all high and mighty.

"No?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Tell me what's wrong, Adrian," he pushed.

Fallon grunted when I slammed into him, harder than I should have, forcing my way past in a bold attempt that was likely to get me leveled. A good way to piss him off and get him off my back.

Sure, I'd probably have a few bruises to show for afterward, but today, I might actually stand a chance.

"No," I said, overly cheerful, taking a bit too much joy in how nice it sounded. "My, that was fun. I should say it more often."

He straightened, and for a moment I saw all the ticks. The clench of his jaw, the popping of a vein on his forehead as he tried and failed to find a calming breath.

"You know, Fally, I can't feel pain right now. This might just be a fight I win. That sounds lovely actually. Let's do it!" I said, laughing as I raised my arms in a mock boxing stance.

Just one little fight, and I'd be out of here. He was never one to back down from one. Then I'd be free to fix my mess.

He took a deep breath, and the hit I was expecting, the one I tried to tell myself would be worth it, never came.

"A fight may have worked with me, but you've never been the fighting type," he said, the words mirroring the ones that I'd thought the entire time I'd been in the lamp. The words that had led to my failure, my fuck-up. The words that still fucking haunted me. "You're not leaving like this, Adrian. Not alone."

He was trying to be my brother, to be the one to lean on like I'd said we should be. Yet, I couldn't let him. Not knowing how right he was.

I wasn't a fighter.

And that fact had damned near killed us.

"Fun chat, Fally," I said, losing the smile, flitting around him, nearly reaching the door when he was standing there, too.

His face paled, his skin still riddled with the black scorch marks of the sun. He wasn't taking the healing as well as I was, crippled by pain every time he so much as breathed.

"You're scared. Archon fucked with your head. That lamp was a nightmare, and you broke," he said through gritted teeth, shaking his head like he might pass out if he moved the wrong way. "You aren't the only one, Adrian. I did, too. After I had to watch Aislinn die, again and again, and when that stopped working, he switched to Ali . "

His eyes closed, as if reliving it again. "He didn't put us in situations that we would have been able to get out of. That's not your fault."

Not my fault ?

That wasn't an excuse I could use, not when our lives were at risk because of what I had done. No amount of sugar-coated words would change the fact that I did exactly what Archon wanted.

My chest ached. Even if I couldn't feel it, I knew my heart was breaking. My resolve crushed to dust.

"What do you know of what he did? Hm?" I asked quietly, looking at the black scars that traced my skin. "It wasn't even what was in the lamp that got me, Fallon. It was what came after. I was tied down and tortured for less than four hours. "

I choked on the truth, the undeniable fact that I was weak.

"Before I broke. Before I put everything at risk, before I put Aaliyah at risk!" I could have damned well been drinking acid, and it would have hurt less than admitting that out loud. I'd threatened the safety of my love over four hours of pain. Thrown away our chance at surprising Sebek with Exilium, gave Archon a leg up on us and leverage to make sure he stayed Eternal. "How long were you in your hell?"

I didn't need him to answer to know it was ages longer than anything I'd dealt with. Fallon might have broken in his own way, but he didn't betray us.

He got out, at the detriment to himself, the mark on his chest proving that. I got out at the detriment of Ali .

"Four years, twelve days," he eventually whispered, looking away. His eyes clouded, focusing on the blank spaces in the room. Lingering there, as though looking for someone. "I started counting when I realized the days kept coming."

Four years he watched the people he loved die. Four years he was stuck in his own head. The perfect trap for a man like Fallon, who solved every problem with a fight.

"See?" I said, letting out a breath, deflating like a popped balloon. "This was my fault. I have to fix it … I need to fix it."

Fallon didn't budge, and I expected to see rage in his eyes again, like he had when Archon first told them about my blunder. Instead, he stood firm, like an obnoxious tree that somehow planted itself in the middle of the damned living room. "I'm not letting you go, Adrian. Not with that look in your eye. So, you can either sit the fuck down and talk to me, or you'll have to get fucking through me."

Tempting offer, but even without pain, the idea of trying to fight Fallon made the back of my mind … pause. I glared at his scarred knuckles and cursed every bit of albeit good instinct that made me wary.

"Wonderful, you're serious. Fallon, I really have somewhere to be," I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The mask slipped on, as easy as it always had, crack and all, as I smiled wily. "Fine, I'll bite. What look?"

I smirked, expecting him to say something standoffish or crude. Instead, he paused, as if considering his words. He looked at his wrist, tracing the spot where his mark had been with the delicacy of a painter and not a brute.

"Do you remember our fight in the training room?" he asked suddenly, grunting as he covered the bare skin. "After Ali almost died at the hot spring?"

The memory tore through me. I'd never forget the fight, the raw emotion that had built up in me and came spilling out like the blood we'd shed. How I'd begged for him to understand where I was coming from, the emptiness I'd felt trying to help Ali stand again after her loss.

I'd never felt more alone than in that moment.

"Of course. How could I forget?" I whispered, remembering almost fondly how Fallon had snarled.

"I loved her, Adrian. I loved her, and she died."

It had taken a fight to drag it out of him, a fight I knew I wouldn't win but went into, anyway. I hated pain, hated the idea of hurting, but the thought of being alone had outweighed it.

" That look," Fallon grunted. "Like we left you behind. Like you don't know where to go or who to turn to. Whatever it is, you don't need to fight it alone, brother. Please."

All he was missing were the crocodile tears. Fallon seemed to be picking up some tricks. I whistled, really looking at the man I'd spent my entire immortal life with. Fallon was many things—asshole being right at the top of the list—but I trusted every word he said, more than anything else. I took that plea and held it close to my chest, knowing how hard it'd been for him to even ask. I'd been the same, once, staring him down in the middle of the training room, begging him to come to terms with what had happened.

To admit how much he might lose if he didn't.

Now I was in the same spot, blinded by emotion, dragged down by a curse and too prideful to ask for help. I'd done the only thing I could think to get him out of it.

A fight.

He was doing the only thing he thought he could to get me out of mine. Fallon, my brawler of a brother, a man of few words and a shorter fuse, talked to me.

"You're quite the asshole, you know?" I said, brushing my hands over my face. "Never would have guessed you would be the one to step into the caring role. Why can't you let me mope in peace?"

Fallon huffed his response lightning fast. "When you mope, it makes the food taste bad. Pretty sure you add extra salt out of spite. Can't have that. Ali likes it too much."

That she did. Every drawn-out bite, like it might be the last time she'd get to eat it. I reached for my wrist, where the vivid lavender mark used to sit. I listened closely for the subtle sound of her heartbeat, so slow and steady compared to the night before.

"I can't feel anything," I said, practically spitting it out before I could change my mind.

Fallon just nodded. "I know."

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "I don't mean just the pain, Fallon. Anything . Pain, pleasure, joy . Last night just proved it. It's like Archon took it away entirely."

It was like the only thing left in me was anger and hate. I was sure he had something to do with that, too.

Fallon held his composure surprisingly well, his jaw clenching. "What do we need to do?"

The age-old question. I hummed, tipping my head back. "I have an idea, I think. I figure I can be the spear for someone's Retaliation, if I can find the right person." There were plenty that had been on the wrong side of Archon's ire. It just took one that had reason to retaliate, but not the strength to do so. "I just don't know who yet. Still figuring that part out."

"Okay, we can—" He didn't get the rest out, as the door behind him flew open, and the bodies that tumbled in nearly bowled us both over.

Eirik cursed, Nero dangling from his arms like a besotted bride. Though, you didn't typically see brides covered in their own blood and built like a linebacker.

The shock wore off fast, Nero's state clicking as I rushed forward. "Holy fuck, Nero. "

He looked like a ghost, and that was saying something. He was sweating, his complexion almost gray as his eyes rolled back, and he seized. It was a tense few seconds for him to breathe again.

"Please, please. Don't let me stop breakfast," he groaned, dragging himself out of Eirik's arms, not exactly standing on his own two feet as he puked up a mix of blood and vomit. He laughed dryly. " Not it on cleaning that up. Fallon, I hate to tell you this, brother, but I'm going to blame that on you if Osiris asks."

He wobbled, nearly falling, when Eirik grunted and held him steady. "He's delirious. Been in and out of consciousness the entire way back."

Nero convulsed again, this time, his knees giving out entirely. We took him to the floor, his head twitching as I tried to stop him from bashing it into the wood.

"Osiris is getting Magelav," Eirik said, holding Nero steady.

"Get him on his side," I whispered when more bile came up his throat. I sought out his heartbeat, hand on his pulse for a few seconds before I realized I wouldn't be able to feel it. I listened next, almost missing it by how quickly it stuttered in his chest. "Jesus, his heart sounds like it's trying to win a marathon."

"What do we do?" Fallon asked, weathering the next wave as Nero thrashed.

I was out of my element, and I knew no matter what I did, it would be temporary. This wasn't a normal sickness; this wasn't something I could fix. "Keep him as comfortable as we can and wait for Mags."

I hated that it was all I had, that I didn't have some miracle stowed away in my pockets. Nero coughed again, splattering blood across our shirts … his heart stuttering to a stop again.

And we waited, frozen and terrified.

Because it was all we could do.