I can feel distant parts of myself fighting to expel it, reject it. But the poison is too strong, and before I know what’s happening I’m sinking into the abyss, losing a part of me I never even knew existed. I claw after it, not ready to let it go. Not when I haven't even had the opportunity to experience it fully.
Laurel’s voice breaks through my panic and suddenly I’m looking all around, chasing after its source. Perhaps if I follow it, I can find my way out of this hell. I can’t decipher what she’s saying, her words too murky to make sense of.
I cry out to her, asking for her to repeat them. To come find me. But there is no reply. I sink to my knees, curling in on myself as the cold reaches a new low. My fingers go numb, my lips quivering uncontrollably.
Come back,I think. Or maybe I scream it. I can’t tell anymore. Everything feels so distant, so blurry. Even in the pitch black. If I could feel my face I’m sure there’d be tears running down my cheeks. But the warmth of her voice is gone. The never-ending, bone-chilling cold consumes me.
I fade, wanting nothing more than reprieve from the pain like ice burning me alive. And it’s not my father’s name or Tamiel’s on my lips. It’s not Sterling or Quinn’s radiating through my mind as I slowly disappear. Not even Laurel’s, nor Zeke’s.
It’s Aamon I summon, pleading for him to find me. To save me. And I don’t have the capacity to understand why. But his dark, severe eyes are all that I picture as I fully sink into the darkness snuffing me out.
I open my eyes, and there he is, staring down at me. His face is hardened, his skin paler than normal. Raven strands stick to the sweat on his brow.
“Aamon.” The word catches in my throat, making my voice sound wrong. I blink, and notice the way everything around me feels sharper, more pronounced. My gaze drifts from his eyes to those of Quinn’s behind him, knit with concern. And then I realize my hand is being held by someone and I turn to find a distraught Sterling on the ground beside me.
I swallow a few times, trying to get my bearings as my eyes land once again on Aamon.
“You’re straddling me,” I state. His full weight is nearly crushing, but I find myself missing it as he slides off the bed.
“Nothing gets past you, Angel." He laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound. I sit up a little and all three of them lunge at the movement.
“I’m okay,” I reassure them, lifting my hands to show that there’s nothing to fuss over. And it’s true. I feelfine.Good, even. I settle back against the pillows behind me. But something about the change in position makes me notice the metallic tang staining my mouth. I lift my fingers to my lips, pulling them away to reveal bright streaks of red.
“I—I’m sorry.” I stumble over the words, looking frantically for a towel to clean up the blood.
“You’re apologizing?” Aamon asks, incredulously.
Laurel comes from somewhere behind the boys, a towel in hand. She perches beside the bed, dabbing my fingers and helping clean me up. I nod in answer to Aamon’s question. “I didn’t know I was bleeding. I don’t—I don’t remember what happened.”
I run my tongue over my lips, suddenly so thirsty that I can’t think of anything else besides the little bit of blood still staining them. The sharp tips of my teeth push against my tongue, and I freeze.
Fangs. Fangs that shouldn’t be there, because my father has taken every precaution to keep them well hidden over the years. My eyes go wide, my body switching into fightor flight as I scramble backwards to put space between me and the boys who have surely discovered my secret.
“It’s okay,” Quinn reassures me in a slow, level tone. His hand is raised as if he’s trying to calm a frightened animal. Which doesn’t feel far off base. “We know you’re touched by the Arcane. You’re safe with us.”
I shake my head, trying hard to focus on Quinn and what he’s saying. But I can feel Aamon’s eyes piercing me from where he’s standing at the foot of my bed and can’t help but feel there’s a threatening intent behind them. He was so angry with me before, so sure I was hiding something. And I was.
“I don’t understand,” I say, trying to make sense of the million different thoughts racing through my head.
“We were in the garage,” Quinn reminds me, stepping up to the bed and kneeling beside me. “Aamon had something for you. Do you remember any of that?”
I furrow my brow, trying to make myself concentrate. Memories work their way through my mind like fog over water. “The wraith,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I . . . attacked him.”
Quinn nods. “Rightfully so. But when you did, there was a shift that happened. Your Arcane magic coming to the surface, we assume. It . . .”
“It took you under,” Sterling finishes for him, his voice breaking. “You’ve been out for a couple days now. We were trying to figure out how to help you come out of it.”
“Days?” I gasp in disbelief.
The room goes quiet. Even Laurel.
“So, how did you do it?” I ask trepidatiously, looking to Laurel's averted gaze. There’s an energy I don’t quite understand between the four of them. But as hard as I try to concentrate on it, there’s only one thing on my mind. Hunger.
“Let’s give them a minute,” Laurel finally says, standing to her feet and motioning for Sterling and Quinn to follow her out of the room. I watch them go, each of their faces more apologetic and downcast than the last. Sterling is the last out the door, practically shaking as he goes.
I can’t make sense of it. Whatever they did, it worked. I had accepted my fate. Was convinced this was the end for me. But they'd found me. They’d led me back to the light and now I’m here—alive. How could that be a bad thing?
The soft click of the door closing behind Sterling snaps my attention back to Aamon. He's still standing at the end of my bed, his eyes hyperfocused on me.
