Abigail.
In a flash, the three of us are running toward Hall W4, spotting Atticus as he’s tumbling out of his own bedroom.
“What’s happening?” he asks, disoriented.
No one responds to him as we burst into Abigail’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, sobbing into her arms with her knees drawn up.
“Little one,” Father calls, falling to his knees next to her bed. “What is it?”
“I s-saw something,” she whimpers, unwilling to lift her face from where it’s tucked. “It was big and scary.”
My father looks over his shoulder, his eyes finding mine.
It appears the incubus can leave the west tower, something I was unsure of until now, outside of its visits to Julian’s room.
“It’s okay, love. It’s over now. We’ll protect you,” he coos, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
“What’s happened? I heard Abby scream.” My mother pushes into the room from behind us, approaching my sister’s bed.
Repressing a groan, I run a frantic hand through my curls. It appears the entire castle is awake; all that is missing is Jeremy Walsh—
“Master Abraham? Is everything alright? I heard commotion, but when I went to check on Julian, I couldn’t find him. Is he in here?” Jeremy fucking Walsh appears behind me.
Great. Now the entire castle reallyisawake, and the incubus is in an unknown location while—oh, no.
Julian!
“Fuck!” I shout, shoving past Jeremy and Atticus and sprinting toward the door that leads to the west tower, taking the steep steps two at a time.
I can hear a chorus of following footsteps pounding behind me, but I can’t find it within myself to care.
As I enter my bedroom, I’m relieved to find only Julian in the room. He’s still lying limp in front of my dresser, blood crusted over the right side of his face and pooled onto the floor around where he rests.
I rush to his side, pulling his upper body into my lap.
“Julie,” I whisper, gently pushing his hair from his forehead.
There is a gash running from the upper corner of his forehead over his eye, most likely from where he slammed into the dresser, and a nasty bruise on his cheek from where the incubus slapped him.
“Julian!” Jeremy shouts, rushing forward.
Oscar grabs his arm, keeping him with my father and Atticus by the door as he peers around the room with narrowed eyes.
“Wait,” he murmurs.
“Let go of me! That’s my son!” Jeremy demands, but Oscar does not obey. He continues his search, and I notice that Atticus and my father are also looking around wearily, their chest rising and falling quickly.
“It’s still here. It’s somewhere in this room,” Atticus whispers, his face pale.
The room is deathly silent, aside from our breathing.
“Someone better tell me what thefuckis going on before I lose my damn mind. Who hurt my son?” Jeremy screeches, and I feel for him—I really do—but he wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it.
“Listen,” Father begins, but he promptly closes his mouth as Julian stirs in my lap.
“Julian!” I call, running my fingers over his cheek.
“Atlas?” he mutters. And then, more urgently, as he tries to sit up, “Atlas! Are you okay? Where is it? Did it touch you? Fuck, why is everythingred?”
