“Recover?” I shake my head, trying to remember how I’d gotten here.
“Yes, you seem to have been . . . attacked. After you ran off last night.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “Perhaps now you will understand why I was so insistent on you staying within the High Quarter.”
I lock my jaw, pushing down the fight I can feel rising in me. I search my mind for any recollection of what he’s speaking of. But no matter how hard I try to think about last night, I cannot find the memories. Only a bone-chilling whispered warning to leave it be.
He walks over to the IV bag, tapping the hanging liquid with his finger. “It seems a wraith got a hold of you during your venture to the ungoverned district.” He slides his hands in his pockets and turns to face me. “Lucky you got away when you did. A few more moments under his hold and you wouldn’t have made it back to us.”
I swallow hard, the hazy memories snaking their way through my subconscious. I blink and I’m back in that alley, hearing the male’s thick voice, feeling his hands on my skin. I slam my eyes closed, burying my head in my hands as ifto cover my ears from my fathers’ words and the memories they've triggered.
“There, there, child.” My father lets loose a huff of air, almost a laugh, and my eyes track him as he starts moving through my room once more. “You’re safe now. Tamiel was able to fix you right up. No long-term damage to speak of.” He grins at me, crossing my bedroom until he’s by my door. “But I do need you for something, now that you’re conscious. Take your time of course, but as soon as you’re feeling well enough I’d like you to meet me in the sitting room below, yes?”
His eyes stay on mine till I realize he’s awaiting a reply. I force myself to nod, the motion straining my sore neck. He nods back. “I’ll see you soon, then.” He turns and walks out the door, ushering for the guards to stay behind and keep an eye on me. I wait until I hear the gentle click of my door closing to collapse back on my bed and rip the IV from my hand.
It’s half an hour later when I descend the stairs and find my father waiting for me just outside the sitting room. I can tell he’s perturbed at my delay, antsy that it’s taken me so long to collect myself and follow hisorders. I’d surveyed my wounds before readying myself for him, taking careful account of all that seems to have happened to me. There are a couple scrapes and cuts on each arm, but nothing too deep. Due to Tamiel’s meticulous attention, they are healing fast.
When I looked in my mirror, I noticed the bruising around my throat from where the bastard held me against the brick wall in the alley. I'd picked out the highest collared dress I own in order to try and cover them, hoping to hide the evidence of last night’s shame. Judging by the soreness in my ribcage as I descend the stairs, I’m guessing there are more bruises lingering there that I must not have noticed. I shake my head, clearing away the blur of confusing memories from last night. I take a deep breath as my feet hit the bottom stair and my father holds out an arm for me to take.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he leads us towards the front entryway.
“Okay, I suppose,” I answer quietly. “Sore,” I add with a hint of shame.
He nods, as if he understands my pain. But I know he doesn’t. He’s a male of power and extreme influence. He’s lived a life bending others to his will, not fighting to maintain his own autonomy.
He falls silent as he leads us out the front door and down the steps. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the low-hanging sun, marking the end of the day. But when they do adjust, I notice my father’s towncar waiting for us, along with his driver, beside the open car door.
“What is this?” I ask, confused.
“Evangeline." My father’s voice turns saccharine. “Won’t you humor an old male and join me for a car ride through the city? There’s something I wish to show you.”
I take a step back, pulling my arm from his grasp. He doesn’t protest, but he does tense as if he has to stop himself from forcing me to remain next to him.
“I’m truly not feeling that well, Father. I’d prefer to return to my room and rest a while before venturing out into the city.” The idea of seeing anyone so soon after last night’s incident feels too brutal a punishment to endure. I am hurt—embarrassed. I’ve barely processed what happened, can barely remember the full extent of the details. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared still.
But my father closed the distance between us, reaching a hand out to cup my cheek and stroke my skin with his thumb. “My dearest Evangeline. You have had quite an experience. And I know it affects you so, but rest assured Tamiel has looked you over thoroughly and cleared you for an activity such as this. And it would please me so to have you accompany me today.”
The feel of his tender touch against my skin is shockingly disarming. It’s not often I’m at the receiving end of my father’s care. And despite the terror in my stomach, the ache in my bones, I find myself suddenly desperate to please him—to keep his attention on me a little longer. I jut outmy chin, nodding at last as I take his hand once more and he leads me into the car.
Minutes pass in silence as we ease out of the driveway and onto one of the main roads in the High Quarter. From the looks of it we're heading to the city center, towards the Temple. I clench my fists in my lap, forcing deep, even breaths into my lungs. My eyes track the city buildings as they zoom by from the window, taking note of the Watchers and the people alike, bustling through the streets as we pass by.
I startle when my father clears his throat, turning my attention away from the window.
“Evangeline, I understand there’s a lot to process after the events of last night. But if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for me?”
I furrow my brow, cocking my head towards him.
“There’s a few details of your escape that are still a little fuzzy to me.” He crosses one leg over another, his hands smoothing over the lapel of his crisp grey tailored suit. “Actually"—he huffs out a small laugh, letting his eyes linger out the window rather than meet my gaze—“you’ve become quite the topic of conversation within the city."
At last, he turns to look at me. “The Watchers are all dying to know how you were able to overpower a wraith and return home on foot after an attack to the extent you experienced.” His gaze slides up and down my body for one long, painstaking moment. “I have to admit I am, myself,shocked that you were able to escape. Especially with your ailments.”
I swallow as his cold grey eyes evaluate me. He eventually nods for me to explain and I have to work my mouth a couple times, my throat going dry. “I’m not sure there’s much insight I can offer you,” I croak out at last. The movement in my throat burns, and I can tell he’s staring at the bruises peeking out from the collar of my top. “He attacked me in an alley. I didn’t think I’d be able to get away. I blacked out I think, everything after that becomes . . .”
I slip into my subconscious, remembering the sight of black-tipped claws, the feel of fresh blood warming my hands and stinging my nose. Dark dreams in the mind of a monster.Mydreams. But that couldn’t have been me.
“Hazy,” I finish at last, realizing I hadn’t finished the train of thought. “It feels as if I blinked and I was back home, on the stairs leading to the entry way.”
A muscle in his jaw feathers, as if he is displeased with my answer.
“I’m sorry,” I add, nervous to anger him. “I wish I was able to recall more.”
