Page 139 of A Silence So Divine

The sound of my name tosses me to the far side of consciousness, and I straighten my spine.

“Oh Jesus, what did you do?” Hands flitter over my face, and my head lolls. The press of a shaky palm to my cheek rights the angle of my neck.

“Sylvie?” I croak, squinting against the light.

The hands at my face disappear. There’s movement at my ankles, the binds loosening and tightening as someone attempts to untie them.

“Yes,” she replies, hurried and hushed. “It’s us.”

Confusion notches my brows together. “Us?”

Then the light lowers, the person holding it no longer obscured by the high powered beam.

My brother, wide eyed and firm jawed, looks back at me. And I lose it.

I tug at my still bound hand, the effort futile in my weakened state. My mangled wrist flops uselessly as I attempt to sign one handed.

“You’re going to hurt yourself—”

“Get him out! Now, Sylvie, please,” I croak.

Wails drone down like a siren and silence ensues; a stark reminder of what else is at stake. “Take him, then come back for me. We’ll get Eden.”

Sylvie doesn't respond, her focus on my ankles. The light beam spins as it’s placed face up, shining at the ceiling and casting the room in just enough light to see one another. Glancing behind the two of them, I see two more of our own waiting outside.

Blood coats nearly everyone, other than Creed.

“There’s not enough time,”my brother tells me, his face hard.

“Then get her first!” I spit, looking incredulously at the woman at my feet. Tears twinkle over her eyes.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “We can’t get close enough.”

The harsh slap of reality hurts almost worse than the breaking of the bones in my hand.

The screaming. The constant, blood curdling wails that have rumbled throughout the catacombs. Her Gift, used against her as a prison. And how they’re able to do that? I have some ideas, but they’re too horrific to voice.

“There has to be a way—” I begin, panic biting my words.

“There is,”Creed signs. He looks down at me, an expression in place that I don’t recognize. My brother, mylittlebrother, is utterly stoic. Like a seasoned soldier, there isn’t a hint of fear on his face.

“No,”I sign with bloody fingers.

“It’s the only way,” Sylvie mutters, eyes flooding with anguish.

In the hall, pitying glances peek through.

“Please,” I choke, unsure of who I’m speaking to. My brother, Sylvie, the world, myself. Anything or anyone who might listen and grant me this one wish. “It’s too dangerous.”

“They’re going to kill her,”Creed signs vehemently, stepping closer. My eyes rove over his figure, searching for injury. The relief of not finding any is difficult to reach when he insists on putting himself in danger.

“Please,” I repeat. “I’ll go with you.”

Creed’s eyes follow my lips, and then his own curve into a weak smile.“You’ve done enough. It’s my turn.”

This isn’t a battle that I can win. Between the blood loss and what has to be a severe concussion, I would be a liability, and to wait would be risking Eden’s life.

I’m terrified.