You’re so stupid, don’t you know that? So very stupid. You’ll rip me from your side but that won’t stop me. You’re not the only one. Contingencies have been made. You slipped through my grasp once before. If you spit me out the regret you’ll have will make the angels weep. I don’t need you, mortal, you need me.
Dylan’s voice rises above her threats and my body is pulled in a million directions. My hands. Feet. Fingers and skin. My scalp burns, my hair stretches, pulling flesh away from my body. I scream and scream and scream until my voice is swallowed by hers and we’re screaming all at once. Her nails scrape down my arms, gouge my cheeks, until the sound of a soaring bomb splits my eardrums like glass cracking. My eyes burn with a sudden flash of light, much like a nuclear detonation. I’m blind. I’m ash. I’m nothing more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bunny
Three weeks later
The scabs are healing.
The bruises faded.
The visible wounds, at least. Internal? I’m not convinced. I know Dylan isn’t either. So we wait and watch.
“What is she doing?” Clinton asks. We’re sitting on the rooftop enjoying one of the final sunsets before summer.
“Cartwheels?”
“I think that’s called a somersault.” I have no reason to know this but I do.
“Ah right.”
She jumps from the ground, hair springing around her. She looks like the sun—bright and beaming.
“And things are progressing? She seems okay?”
“Dylan says so,” I reply. “He’s always the most skeptical, so if he thinks she’s better then I trust him.”
The spell worked, although with some consequences. That’s normal for magic though. There’s always a price to pay.
He looks at me for a long moment so I ask, “You don’t?”
He doesn’t reply, just glances back across the rooftop, staring at our girl.
Sam approaches her with the camera. He takes a series of snapshots, getting her to smile in at least one. His face never betrays him, but when he thinks no one is looking I catch the frown as he looks at the pictures. He doesn’t like what he sees.
“She went to Damien’s workshop last night,” Clinton says. His gray eyes follow her every move. I straighten at his revelation. I didn’t know that.
“Did she?” I’m dying to know what they did behind closed doors. We all are. We aren’t ruled by sex, of course, but ever since the spell we’ve been careful, letting her heal.
Our bond is based on friendship, love, and intimacy. It’s only become stronger since that night.
“She wanted to ride on his motorcycle. He took her around the city until dawn.”
My muscles relax. “Good. The fresh air should help her.”
“I agree.”
Damien comes and sits next to us. Dylan a few moments later. The sun slips to the edge of the city, casting us all in a pinkish-orange glow.
I feel like there are so many unanswered questions. What do we do now? How do we proceed with our duties? I know I’m not the only one but no one wants to rock the boat. Not yet.
She links her hand with Sam’s and they walk over to where we’re sitting. He takes a seat on the ground and she nestles in the middle of the bench. Clinton tosses a protective arm around her shoulder and I wrap my hand around hers, relishing her heat. Damien leans against her thigh and she strokes his head. Dylan, like always, stands just above all of us.
Watching.
Waiting.