Page 150 of The Incendiary

“Do you have something to apply to flesh wounds?” I asked quietly.

Abram paled yet another shade. “What kind of flesh wounds?”

I trained my expression to reveal nothing. “Knife.” His face twisted with worry. “Will you tell me where?”

I shook my head. Abram released a strained sigh, rose from his chair, and walked back to one of the large cabinets of medicine. Every time something bumped or banged as he shifted items, I had to make a conscious effort not to flinch. My nerves were shredded.

“This should help prevent infection.” Abram handed me a glass vial of a gold-tinted, jellylike substance before turning back to the cabinet and sifting some more. He pulled out a bottle of clear liquid with some words I recognized from a book about healing. “The taste is bitter, but this should help with the pain. It’s stronger than the pills. You can take both.” Along with the bottle, he gave me a wooden cup small enough to fit in my palm. “Fill it to the top and drink one every six hours as needed.”

I had my own bandages, so the salve and the pills to help with the pain should have been all I needed from him. Only I didn’t get up, and Abram didn’t turn away.

I knew I should go, but it was warm and dry in Abram’s cabin, and the thought of going anywhere else alone tonight made my heart palpitate in fear. Abram began to speak.

“Please let someone help you…”

He kept talking, but his words started to fade in and out.

“Someone you trust? Because…”

I stared at the rings in the wood grains of the floor and wondered how old the wood was. One century? Two?

Four?

“Mina Reed, maybe, because you shouldn’t be alone and…”

Alone.

He had been alone. For four centuries, he had been alone, searching for me. And then once he finally found me and confessed his devoted, unwavering love, I had… sent him away.

“Fera, shit!” Abram’s fingers locked around my uninjured wrist. He jerked my hands apart, and I saw that the fingernails of my left hand were bloody. My right palm was also stained crimson. I’d pressed my fingers there with enough force that I broke my skin.

“Stay here, Fera,” Abram ordered before abruptly turning around and making for the door.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

“To get Commander Winterton.”

“No! No, Abram!” I shifted in my seat, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain the movement caused. I’d sat for too long, and my body was paying for it. “Just please give me what I need and let me go. I’ll talk to him.”

Abram shook his head. “I’m not sure there’s much I can do by myself to hold Gerard and the others accountable for this, but he can.”

I silently watched him leave, because maybe he was right. Eli had his flaws, but he was a good man. He was my friend, and he needed to know about Gerard and the others working for Molochai.

Eli would care. I needed him to care.

But my hope diminished the moment he arrived with Abram.

It took me seconds to realize what he must have been doing all night. Mussed hair. White shirt wrinkled like it had been thrown on in a rush. There were bags under his eyes, and his mouth was red from kissing and biting. He had clearly been celebrating tonight.

Eli stared at me in horror while taking a wary step toward me. He winced, like he was afraid to touch me. Like whatever he saw was too painful to acknowledge.

“Are you all right?” he said hoarsely.

I refused to dignify that question with a response. He ran his hands over his face, through his sex-mussed hair.

“Eli.” I cleared my throat. “I have to tell you that Gerard and his friends⁠—”

“Fera, wait,” he sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. “What the hell were you doing alone in the showers in the middle of the night?”