Page 253 of Coal Hearts

Didn’t cry.

Peter moved with me, tucking hair behind my ear. “They used to belong to jewels like us. Others who have come and gone. They served, they disappeared, and yet their precious things from a previous life live on, tormenting us, haunting us, reminding us every goddamn day that there might only be thirty of us now, but there have been hundreds before.”

Kirk wiped his mouth. “Fuck, man. I thought you were trying to cheer her up.”

“I need her to find what’s hers. I need her to have a reaction. The sooner she snaps out of this, the sooner I can—”

“What’s going on?” Rebecca and Nancy appeared, draped in comforters from their bed, shuffling like dopey zombies in the dark. “We’ll get told off if we’re caught wandering around.”

“Then go back to sleep,” Peter snapped. “We’re coming. I just...first, I need to see if Ily can find something from home. I-I think it will help.”

“Help how?” Rebecca asked, scooping up a handful of necklaces. They pooled through her fingers with strings of gold.

“I gave her psilocybin—”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Rebecca dropped the necklaces. “I overheard her telling Sonya that she had a bad reaction to weed once. She’s probably one of the unlucky few who don’t react well to substances.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Bex.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have that information and figured it out the hard way.”

Nancy came toward me and stared into my eyes. A daisy crown appeared on her head, quaint, fragile little flowers weaving through her fiery strands. Didn’t matter they were an illusion, they seemed real and far too delicate for this place.

“She definitely looks out of it.” Nancy snapped her fingers in my face.

I didn’t flinch.

Didn’t have the energy.

“She hasn’t said a word since Ruby Tears.” Peter sighed.

“Uh-oh.” Both girls looked at one another. “I know how much that gutted me the first time.” They shared matching grimaces. “You just need to give her time, Pete. You can’t rush her. She’ll deal with it in her own way.”

“She needs to do something,” Peter muttered. “Her silence is freaking me out.”

“What do you want her to do?” Kirk snapped. “Scream?”

“If it will help...then yeah.”

“Nothing will help.” The blue-eyed, black-haired slave who’d been Victor’s choice at the orgy-dinner appeared. Behind her trailed in four others. Two boys, two girls. All of them in various states of nakedness and sleep.

One of the boys said, “Come on, let’s go to bed. The sooner she falls unconscious, the sooner her mind will come to terms with what happened.”

Peter marched into his band of surviving jewels. A discussion sprang up. Some heated words broached higher than a whisper.

I ignored all of them.

I bowed my head at the silent dragon still puffing in the corner and let the sparkling gems seduce me.

A large pendant of snowflake obsidian caught my attention.

Snowflake obsidian.

Formed by volcanic eruptions in Italy, Scotland, and other wonderful far-off places. A stone believed to help heal trauma, shock, and dissolve both physical and spiritual pains.

I clutched it tight and kept walking.

So many.

Too many.