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“Do you know what’s not fair? Having your mother and I comb the streets looking for you until midnight when you would obviously rather be off hanging out with that stranger than come home!”
My hands clenched into fists. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath through my nose. I let the air out slowly from my mouth and started counting backward from ten. Maybe anger management had taught me a thing or two after all. When I opened my eyes again, Jeremy was still standing before me, his stance mirrored mine. Fists clenched at our sides, both of us glaring at each other.
“I’m going to bed.” I said. My voice was strange, even to me. It sounded otherworldly, and when I met Jeremy’s eyes he blanched a little bit.
I realized I had scared him and felt my heart break. No matter how angry I was, I didn’t want Jeremy to be afraid of me. Was this what it meant to be a daemon?
Maybe, I was just a monster to be feared. Maybe, I belonged in a cell with the widowmaker. Maybe my family would be safer, if I just went with Amon across The Veil.
27
I forced the beast in my chest to settle down and turned on my heel to head upstairs before I did anything I would regret. I heard Clair angrily hissing at Jeremy in hushed tones as I closed the door to my room. Every inch of me wanted to slam it, but I closed it gently and flopped down onto my bed. Look at me, making progress with my temper.
I looked at myself in the wall-length mirror opposite to me. Conrad’s glamour flickered in and out as I unbuttoned my pants and slid them off. I peeled the still-wet jeans off each leg and wrinkled my nose at the now crusty black goo that coated them. My t-shirt came off next and it looked like someone had tried to tie-dye it in a vat of tar. Streaks of the stuff marred my flesh and I held my breath as I balled my clothing, and tossed it all into the trash under my desk.
Finally, I wrapped myself up in my fluffy black bathrobe and made my way into the bathroom.
Every part of my body ached. I turned on the tap and started to fill the tub with water before turning to face my reflection in the mirror. I frowned. The marks around my neck were still covered up with Conrad’s glamour, but I could still feel them. The pain was already considerably less than it had been at the motel. I could still feel a dull throbbing across my throat and clavicle like some sort of grotesque necklace was draped around my neck and down my chest. They shouldn’t have been healing as quickly as they were.
I scratched under my triquetra , which seemed to be annoying my skin. Scowling at the small offending piece of jewelry, I considered taking it off for some relief. The bruises hurt enough as it was, I really didn’t want to be scratching away at my chest because of some allergic reaction.
‘Remove that charm, now.’ I shivered as I remembered Amon ordering me to take it off. That alone was enough reason for me to leave it exactly where it was. I got into the tub gently. My muscles screamed at me as I lowered myself into the steaming water. With my hair piled on top of my head, I leaned back and sighed. I could still hear Clair and Jeremy arguing downstairs. Their voices were muffled, but the tone of their conversation traveled through the walls.
I shouldn’t have lost my temper, not when I only had such a short period of time left with them. They were just worried about me. If they were this upset about me being a couple of hours late how were they going to handle it if I disappeared? Maybe Conrad could put a spell on them and make them forget I had ever existed in the first place. In the privacy of the bathroom, I let the tears well in my eyes and fall silently down my face.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but my fingers were like prunes, and Jeremy and Clair had long since gone to bed when I decided to finally get out. I dried off and stepped into my usual bedtime outfit, cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt.
Grabbing the book of poetry I had taken from the library, I headed downstairs. I tiptoed as quietly as I could and made a cup of Chamomile tea, making sure to remove the kettle from the stove before it started to whistle.
Taking my tea outside, I crept out the backdoor and curled up on the bench swing that Jeremy had installed on our deck. It was well past midnight and the ebony velvet sky hung over the city like a blanket. I could barely make out any stars because of the city’s lights, but the moon beamed down on me, lighting the deck enough for me to see my book. I flipped it open to the page that Amon had read to me from. That day in the library now felt like it had been months ago; not just a few weeks.
‘You are mine, said the Prince,
cradling his swaddling of twilight.’
As my focus narrowed in on the words on the page before me, I could almost hear Amon’s voice as if he were standing next to me, whispering in my ear.
‘My Queen, my slave, my lover, my friend, the Prince
says as he rocks his shadow, back, back, back.’
I was beginning to wonder if this poem was indeed about a prince or if it was about Amon himself. What was it that he had said about this poem in the library? That a prophet had written it? What did he want ?
“Raven?” I nearly jumped out of my skin and the paperback went flying. I yelped as I spilled the hot tea down my front and immediately pulled my now wet t-shirt off my skin to keep the burn to a minimum. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Clair exclaimed as she rushed forward to take the teacup from my hand.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I reassured her, flapping my fistful of t-shirt back and forth. The fabric cooled quickly in the balmy springtime air. I glanced up at Clair. “I hope I didn’t wake you up,” I mumbled. Clair shook her head and offered me a solemn smile.
“No, I was up anyway. Mind if I sit?” I shook my head and gestured to the cushioned seat next to me on the bench swing. She looked invincible in her lavender ankle-length nightgown and her bare feet. She folded herself onto the bench so gently that the swing barely moved.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us enjoying the peace and quiet of the nighttime. Finally, Clair spoke up.
“Do you want to talk about what happened today?”
“Not really,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” I explained.
“Why don’t you try me?” Clair asked, and I sighed.
“I’m not ready to talk about it,” I shuddered, remembering what it felt like to wake up in that strange room, tied down. I could still feel the phantom web suffocating me as the widowmaker slowly lowered itself from the ceiling. Death on a thread. Clair nodded in understanding. She reached out and put her hand on my knee.
