Page 50

I curl up beside him with my head brushing his arm, and my hand stretched across his chest. Just in case he wakes and needs me, I justify to myself. I doze off and on in short intervals, jerking awake with the dāemon, like bolts of lightning under my skin.

This time, it’s not the dāemon that wakes me. It’s Sitri. He stirs, body twitching before he jerks upright. It worked. It worked. It worked. My lip quivers, and a shudder shakes my chest. I want to sob in relief. His shoulders move with his quickening breaths but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. “Sitri?”

He doesn’t respond, nor when I wrap a hand around his arm. I pull myself up beside him and wave a hand in front of his face. It's like he doesn’t even see me. He stares straight ahead, pupils dilated and breathing ragged. Something feels wrong .

A sheen of sweat dampens his forehead yet the temperature in his chambers drops to an icy chill as a cold breeze stirs, sweeping the ends of my hair. I look around to find the source. Both doors are still shut. The wind continues, whistling louder and more vigorously. And then the scene around me changes. Red drips down the walls. Plop. Plop. Plop. A whimper spills out of me, and I nestle closer to Sitri, who’s still catatonic. Blood. So much blood. It puddles on the floor and begins expanding outward. “Sitri,” I cry, shaking his shoulder.

He doesn’t respond, still staring straight ahead. I follow his gaze out, and my heart jumps into my throat as the ghostly apparition of a woman takes form in front of him.

“Don’t look,” she pleads, seconds before a rope cinches around her throat and lifts her from the ground. I clap a hand over my mouth. She doesn’t struggle against it as her face, already bruised and swollen like she’s been badly beaten, turns an even darker shade of blue. Something about her is familiar to me. Sitri’s Mother. I recognize her from the sketch as her body swings.

Sitri’s Mother is dead.

The blood closes in around us. I scurry back on my palms only to situate myself in the blood behind me. Except I can’t feel it. I lift my hand to find it completely clean. No blood. It’s not real. The wind picks up pace, whipping my hair wildly around my face. Vials rattle on his shelves, and the sound of breaking glass fills the room as they begin to fall. This isn’t real. Sitri’s Mother is dead. It’s Sitri. He’s creating this somehow.

“Sitri!” I yell, trying to get his attention over the whistling wind. He doesn’t respond. His head shakes back and forth, his eyes wild. I crawl over his lap and straddle his legs, taking his face firmly in my hands to still him. His skin is so cold, so clammy. “Sitri.” I place my face inches from his.

He locks on me, pupils huge. I tense when his hands come up to claim both sides of my face but he just lays them there. My hair whips wildly between us “Pet,” he rasps.

“It’s not real. You have to make it stop,” I plead.

He blinks rapidly, and all at once, everything stops. The wind settles, and the ghostly apparitions vanish with the blood on the walls and the floor. He gives a soft distressing groan, and I paint frantic, reassuring strokes over his face with my thumbs. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” I croon.

He stares at me intently, still blinking. His breathing is still ragged, but his shoulders loosen as his head sags. He grips my face more tightly in his hands as he drops his forehead to mine. He’s really okay. I’m so relieved I could…I tilt my head to graze the tip of my nose along his. He nuzzles me back, sucking in a sharp breath.

He suddenly jerks back and jolts up, dumping me roughly on the floor. I stare up in stunned silence as his chest moves in quick, shallow puffs.

He turns, walks hastily to his bedroom, and slams the door shut behind him.

“Hey!” I scramble to my feet and wrench at the door to find it locked. “God dammit, Sitri! Let. Me. In!” I hear him jostling around the room, and furiously pound at the door. “Are you alright?”

No response.

My temper rises swiftly, the dāemon lashing with it as I beat at the door. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to wake up?” I’m so angry tears prick the backs of my eyes. “You know I’d like to at least know if you’re going to live! You have no idea what I’ve been through.“ He still doesn’t respond. I growl and kick at the door. “If you don’t open this fucking door I’ll—“

The dāemon expels, hits the doorknob, and breaks it plum off. I catch the knob in my hand before it hits the floor. Shit . The door swings open, and Sitri stares at me with wide eyes from where he’s settled at the head of the bed.

I recognize the mark of a circular snake etched into his arm and the inky liquid settling into the grooves from our journey into Samore. The liquid dissipates, and he corks the vial, giving a groan as he rubs at his face. He looks up as the glaze moves over his irises, yet his eyes aren’t as wide and wild as they were previously. My chest heaves, a torrent of emotions swarming over me. He’s here. Breathing. Alive. I want to hug him and cry. I want to throttle him and then punch him in the face. I let out a single shuddering breath. He frowns. “Did you break the door?” he asks, voice still thick.

I look down at the knob in my hand and toss it on the floor as I stride in. “It was an accident.”

He places the vial back in the nightstand. His eyes going hard as he turns them back on me. “Can I help you?” He asks, his annoyance blatant.

I falter. “A—are you alright?” I ask, voice trembling as I wring my hands.

He exhales a slow breath and gestures toward his body. “Obviously,” he drawls.

A mirthless laugh bubbles up and catches in my throat. He averts his gaze as he rises and strides past me, shoulders shifting in a gesture that speaks a thousand words. Get away from me.

He’s trying to shrug me off? After…everything I just went through for him? Like I’m no more than a buzzing fly. I turn around and scrub at my face to fight the tears back before trailing after him, somewhat dazed. He surveys the room with a sigh and begins ambling around, sweeping his hands to clean the disaster his nightmarish wind had caused. “Who was here?” His voice is gruff, clipped, angry . He’s angry with me.

“D-do what?” I ask, hoarse with disbelief.

“Who was here? Please tell me you did not bring the healer up here because that is…seriously going to complicate things for me.”

My anger flourishes, simmering the dāemon under my flesh again. “Are you mad at me ?” I ask incredulously.

He heaves a breath, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “That seriously depends on who it was you brought up here.”

“No one was here, Sitri.”

He waves a hand toward the cauldrons on the table and gestures toward his bandages. “Well, obviously, someone was here.”

“You stupid bastard!” I snarl, stomping forward. He flinches, eyes widening. “No one was here! Because you didn’t unlock the fucking door!”

His confusion doesn’t wane as he continues staring at me. “What do you mean?”

“No one was here! Only me! And I barely had any idea what the fuck I was doing! I had no idea if that would even work! And I’ve just spent the last twelve hours wondering if it did or if I would be locked in these chambers with your corpse for God knows how long!”

He frowns, blinking as he looks me up and down. “You…?”

“Me, Sitri!” I snap.

He continues blinking and shakes his head, raising a single finger. “…you?”

Another wave of hot, simmering anger washes over me. He doesn’t think I’m capable.

“But…you’re…a nought.”

There it is.

The dāemon lashes. “Well aware, Sitri. And you!” I move forward and jab a single finger into his chest. “You’re a dick!” His lips part in stunned silence, and I bark out another mirthless laugh as I gesture toward the cauldrons on the table. “You better make sure I’ve done it right while you’re currently conscious because if you keel over again, you’re on your own.” I spin on my heel and make for the bedroom because if he continues staring at me like a three-headed horse could brew a potion before I could, the dāemon is going to reveal itself.