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CHAPTER1
CLAWDIA
My head pounded. My memory was vague and distant. The ground was hard and unforgiving underneath me as my stirrings brought the pulsating ache of my body to my attention. I fluttered open tear-filled eyes to see only blurred light. Blinking away the gloss of tears, my vision cleared and familiar brown eyes peered back at me.
Panic rolled in my gut at the worry in his gaze. I couldn’t quite remember the details of whatever caused my body so much trauma but my head ached like the ringing of an alarm.
It told me we weren’t safe yet. We needed to get out. Escape the danger.
Get out of where?My thoughts felt distant and unattached, as though I were watching this scene on the television and guessing the location with the protagonist.
I croaked, “Charlie, where are we?”
Charlie leaned away from me with a sigh of relief, allowing my vision to widen. I could make out the purple bruises under his eyes and stubble growing into a short beard. Hair that was usually dirty blond was now more dirty than blond. His t-shirt, trousers, and shoes were covered in a layer of dirt.
He sat cross-legged on the ground next to me.
Ground. Not floor. But cold, wet, gravelly stone ground.
Are we outside?
I couldn’t see a ceiling or walls due to the dimness, but the area felt small and confined.
Is the roof slanted?
My cheek scraped across the rough stones as I rolled my head toward the tiny light, which seemed to be coming from behind me.
Shock froze the blood in my veins, the breath in my body, the nerves that should be telling me more about my current existence. Expecting to see a window or entrance, the sight of a tiny lantern on the floor made my heart drop as it cast shadows around bars which sealed us into our prison—our cage.
With a painful gasp, memory of us going to save Savida, of Mary killing Winnie, the pain of my death, came rushing back. Along with blinding panic that had me bolting upright despite the fierce agony that came with the movement.
I was breathless as the questions poured from me. “Winnie? Charlie, Winnie? Is she okay? I’m alive. Did she survive? Where’s Mary? Zaide? Daithi? Did we save Savida? Is he all right?”
Catching my breath, I was hit with the most horrific smell I had ever encountered. I gagged.
Charlie shushed me and tucked me against his side, whispering into my ear, “Calm down, Clawdicat. Zaide is right here with us. You can’t see him?”
I looked around and spotted my soul pair in a corner, his back against the jagged walls. His long white hair looked gray in the dim light, and his scars glowed from under his t-shirt, the black one he’d changed into because Charlie told him he couldn’t wear red in battle. Yet my blood had soaked into it regardless, turning it stiff and discolored.
At the sound of his name, his purple eyes opened and stared blankly at me. For a moment, I thought he had forgotten me, us, his expression so cold and distant. But then something passed between us, a feeling of the bond he told me we would one day share, a knowing communication between our eyes.
Suddenly, there was life in him again. His eyes focused and lit up at the sight of my hand beckoning him close to me. His muscles relaxed, his shoulders drooped, and his fists unclenched. He took a quick glance around before crawling toward me. I felt a small sigh from Charlie, his breath a warm spot on my hair as his body relaxed.
What is that about? Why is he relieved Zaide is coming to me?
I put the thought aside, because the two people I cared about most in the world had been suffering while I lay unconscious and unaware, and I needed to help them.
Zaide stopped in front of Charlie and me, and although I was wrapped in the arms of another, he didn't look angry or upset. In fact, he looked at me like I was a goddess and his hope, and as though Charlie was not there at all. I lifted my hand to gently stroke his face, and he leaned into my touch, a little smile appearing on his face.
“I am glad you are awake, Little Cat. We have been beside ourselves with worry,” he whispered, his voice gruff with disuse.
I let my hand fall from his face into his large palm and tilted my head to scrutinize his expression. His purple eyes were dark, as were the circles under his eyes, and while there was a small smile showing white teeth, it was tight and forced.
“I’m so sorry, Zaide. I know you must have been devastated to see me get hurt. I’m surprised I didn’t die.” They were quiet. Zaide dropped his gaze to study my hand. My stomach rolled. “I am alive, right? I don’t feel dead. But if I'm dead, then so are you.” Tears welled in my eyes at the thought.
Charlie squeezed me and chuckled. “Stop it. You're fine. You're alive. We're alive. No tears." I nodded and blinked them back. Tears were for grieving once we were safe. And it was clear from the prison that we weren't. "You … drifted … but came back,” he continued and nuzzled into my hair, which I realized was probably caked in blood and sweat and dirt.
Distracted, I turned my face to look up at him with disgust and said, "Don't do that. My hair is a playground for bacteria right now, and you're putting your face in it."
