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Serendipity.
Robby proved to me it was true.
My father tipped the entire bottle down Warrick’s mouth. His throat bobbed, some of the liquid spilling out the side of his mouth. It was like gold paint, shining down his cheek.
We waited. The scales still rippled, his eyes still shut. I could hardly breathe from the pressure sitting on my chest. This had to work. There was no other choice—we couldn’t lose Warrick.
Please. Please.
Please let this work.
Robby’s hand tightened in mine. Xavier was already beginning to cry, his sniffles echoing in my brother’s book-filled bedroom. Books that hadn’t been opened in months. Stacks of them created a nightstand next to his bed, which had an arching bookshelf placed over it, built into the stone of the castle.
He had to come back. I had rare books to show him. I had jokes to share with him. I had—
He coughed and then sputtered, and then his eyes opened, and the entire room gasped. We held our collective breaths for a moment, waiting for the axe to drop. But nothing happened. Our little brother didn’t erupt into flames. The scales stopped fluctuating up his arm, staying instead where they were meant to be. He tried to speak but coughed instead.
“Water!” Dawn said, but Dad was already on it, grabbing a glass from the book-stacked nightstand and helping him drink it. I saw my dad’s normally dark and unexpressive eyes glinting with tears.
Warrick drank a heavy gulp and wiped his mouth, his hand shaking but his smile growing. “So,” he said, looking around at the shocked and relieved faces. “What did I miss?”
I was the first to laugh. It was a sound of pure joy mixed with unconfined relief. My little brother was saved, but wait… “Xavier.” I looked at the next oldest in the family. “You can still sense your dragon, right?”
His eyes went wide, face pale. Shit, shit, shit. We hadn’t considered this. The pressure of the moment drove most of the decision-making, along with Dad.
And then Xavier breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping as if he released a swoosh of tension with that breath. “I can still feel it. We’re good. The curse is broken, at least in our family.”
My dad kissed my brother’s forehead and stepped back, giving us all space to go in for our own hugs and “love you’s.” Even Robby took Warrick in a tight hug, saying how glad he was that he was okay.
This is a double-edged sword.
The glee of having my brother back didn’t diminish—it never would—but the fear and dread of what would come next started to grow stronger.
The curse still had to be broken. Robby came back to my side, hand finding mine. I noticed Dawn drop her eyes and smile as they came back up to mine. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” Robby said, sounding completely drained.
“I’ll join you,” I said.
“You can spend more time with your brother, that’s fine.”
“He’ll likely need some rest too.” I said good night to my family and told them I’d explain everything in the morning, but for now, the two of us needed to sleep. To reset.
And frankly, I just wanted to lie down and hold Robby in my arms, in a room where I was sure we were both safe, where I could stay awake listening to his gentle breathing and feeling his light twitches.
It was all I wanted, and I vowed, in that moment, as we walked in silence to my bedroom, that I’d do everything in my power to keep him safe.
No matter what—or who—the cost was.
Chapter 27
If Someone Just…
Robby
Blackthorne Castle was a paradox, its sleek lines and modern elegance in the interior serving as a stark contrast to the centuries-old legacy of stone that built its exterior. It felt like a sanctuary, and yet the nightmares still found me there. Nightmares that hadn’t stopped since that blood-soaked night a few weeks ago. I would wake up imagining Helstriva hovering just above me, her tentacles slipping from her lips and caressing my face. I’d wake up shouting, crying. Damien would wake up at the sounds of my terror, wrapping me up in his arms, where I’d find brief moments of peace until I shut my eyes again.
Currently, my eyes were open, sunlight shining bright through the arching windows inside the Blackthorne home office. I sat in a comfortable leather chair with Bambi purring in my lap as I scratched under her chin, making sure not to get poked by those sharp saber teeth. My laptop screen was filled with a sympathetic-looking man—Eric, my therapist—as he wrapped up our session for today.
“I know it feels like this pain will never end, Robby, but healing takes time,” Eric was saying, his voice a soft, distant hum as I tried to focus on his words. “The trauma you’ve been through is real, but so is your strength. And with the tools you’re learning to use through our sessions, I think that you’ll find yourself feeling better soon.”
