Chapter 20
Phoebe
My head ached as ifsomeone stabbed a screwdriver into my brain then twisted the handle.
“Ugh.” I opened my eyes and stared at a drab, gray concrete ceiling. Most of the room lay in shadows, so I couldn’t see farther than a couple of feet, but a tiny, antique lamp threw out an amber glow next to the bed I occupied.
Where am I?
I sat and the achy tune in my head became an orchestra. Shutting my eyes to the scant light, I rubbed my temples and tried to clear the fogginess. The last thing I recalled was dancing with Cain, who’d looked regal, mysterious, and seductive in his elaborate mask.
Between my ears, my pulse whooshed, each pound driving the invisible screwdriver deeper.
Another memory...people staring at nothing with glazed eyes, no one moving...a man with wings,terriblewings and a cold, cruel face. Cain’s strange armor and dark energy swirling around us.
That wasn’t a dream.I opened my eyes and lunged off the bed.I need to get out of here.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, strong hands pushed downward on my shoulders, and I stumbled against a muscular chest.
“Stop.” Cain leaned his face closer to mine. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
His words were meant to calm, but instead, they ratcheted my freak-out factor by a hundred points.
“Safe?” I tried to pull from his grasp, but his fingers were iron with their grip. “I’ll never feel safe again with things like...” My gaze met his intense stare, and he grimaced. “That...guy...Malachi. He’s evil, Cain. I could feel it in my bones.”
“He’s not an angel to be trifled with.” Cain’s cold stare searched every inch of my face.
Worry gnawed in my gutas I thought of Tara being frozen in the crowd.Would she be okay?“Are my friends safe?”
“Yes, they’re fine. I wiped their memories.” He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. “Calm yourself, Precious.”
Wiped their memories?So many questions whirled inside my mind.How did Cain transform an entire room of people into complete statues then make them forget? And why did Malachi imply Cain needed something from me?
I shook my head and rubbed my temples. The ache in the center of my brain made it impossible to think coherently. My legs wobbled, and I reached out to steady myself.
“Are you okay?” Concern flashed across his face, and he tipped my chin upward, peering intently.
I could almost imagine his strange, silvery stare spearing through my skin, blood vessels, and bone to tunnel toward the soft, gray matter inside my skull.
“It’s just a bad headache. It’s killing me.” I sagged, the weakness and vertigo so strong I wanted to vomit.
“Sit.” He pointed to the bed and pressed on my shoulders until I collapsed on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll make it better.” Being so much taller than me, when he knelt between my legs, his gaze was even with mine. He cupped the back of my head in both hands then lifted his thumbs to massage my temples.
