Of course, someone chooses this moment to knock on my door.
“Just a minute,” I yell.
I bend over gingerly and pick up one of the long stockings that is lying in a scattered mess across the floor of my room. I haven’t worn these since I got back, so I use them now as a bandage. I wrap it tightly around the folded-up piece of fabric, fastening it snugly over the still bleeding wound.
I find one of my loosest shirts and pull it on, then quickly add a pair of leggings. I go to the door and pull it open to see Fem standing in the doorway looking concerned.
Behind him, of all the boys I would have liked to see, is fucking Dio. I feel my jaw clench and fight down the urge to grind my teeth. Thanks to the sword practice and increased pain, I’ve actually managed not to think about him for a bit, but now here he is.
“Is everything ok in there?” Fem asks.
As he begins to look around my disaster of a room, I quickly step out into the hallway and pull the door mostly shut behind me. There are plenty of things I’d rather he not see in there right now.
“Everything’s fine,” I say as brightly as I can manage, carefully hiding a wince.
He looks suspicious, who wouldn’t be, but instead of asking more questions, he says, “We haven’t seen Malam in a while. We tried summoning him today, but he never arrived, and that has never happened before. Have you heard from him?”
“He stopped by yesterday and told me he was going to be unavailable for a fortnight.”
Fem looks surprised at my quick response. He briefly glances back at Dio, whom I continue to avoid, before turning back to me. “Dio thought you might know.”
Before I can figure out how to respond, Fem says, “We were talking and we’re getting worried about our lack of progress. We still can’t consistently produce weather effects with our magic. We thought you might be able to help in some way?” His voice becomes quiet at the end as though it is an uncomfortable question.
Unsure what “we” means, I carefully focus on Fem and say, “Sure, I have some ideas, but it might take a little while.”
Fem again looks surprisedby my answer.
He looks back at Dio again, and we all stand in silence for a long moment before Dio says quietly, “Thank you.”
Feeling tears beginning to prick at my eyes and knowing I’m quickly losing the battle to control my emotions, I step back through the door of my room. In my haste to escape before having to figure out a response to Dio, the door slams shut harder than I intended. Feeling even less like I know what to do about my emotions, I take a few steps back into my room. I press my hand to my mouth, holding in a sob that I’m fighting a losing battle to contain.
As I was spending my existence in that small cell, I had ample time to think. While Dio certainly featured in those thoughts, I also had other realizations, such as the importance of the magic work the boys are doing and some of what I believe they hope to accomplish. It aligns with my designed purpose in a way I hadn’t recognized or at least fully understood before all my time in that tiny cell.
Now that I am aware of the importance of their work, a portion of the map in my mind has filled in. It shows a path I feel compelled to follow.
After calming down and realizing no one is going to knock again, I spend time getting the bleeding stopped. Then I apply what’s left of the remaining ointment to several of my other injuries. I manage a better, if still makeshift, bandage for the now partially torn-open gashes on my side. Finally, I pull together enough items from my wardrobe to manage an outfit that doesn’t reveal or press against my wounds.
I look at myself in the mirror before I leave and barely recognize the person staring back. I’m dressed in multiple layers of black with my hair tied as well as I can manage with two broken fingers. My eyes still have dark circles under them from my broken nose. They also seem darker than before, despite the familiar mismatched colors.
Before I leave, I strap the sword to my back and pull thecowl hood over my head, obscuring as much of my face as possible. Then I leave the mansion. It is late and everything is dark. The boys are likely in bed, or at least not in the common spaces, and the house employees are not around, so no one sees me leave.
When I get to the street, I move along it until I see what I’m looking for. An off-duty carriage horse, a stallion, stands tied to the side of a carriage, his head low and foot resting in sleep.
When the horse sees me, though, I am surprised by his reaction. He lifts his head, the whites of his eyes showing, and pins his ears flat, a clear warning to stay away. I hesitate a moment; horses have never reacted to me like this before.
I reach for some understanding, consulting my instincts. The realization that I am not who I was before hits me. When it does, as though the horse appreciates the honesty, he relaxes. He is still restless but less so. I offer him my breath, blowing gently into his nostrils. To my relief, he calms further and blows a gentle breath at me.
Carefully so I don’t alert the, hopefully sleeping, carriage master, I untie the horse. He honors me by lowering himself onto his knees so I can clamber, still with much difficulty and pain, onto his back. As soon as I am settled, the horse leaps forward down the street as I grip tightly to his harness.
The speed of a carriage horse is like nothing else. Without the protection of the carriage around me, the wind beats and batters at me. Instead of fear, though, I feel laughter emerging from my throat as I urge him on.
We soon arrive at the familiar building. This time, I am directed to its location in some part by both the horse and my memory. As the pain pounds through me, I dismount as carefully as I can. Then I wrap my arms briefly around the horse's head, thanking him for the gift he just gave me. When I release the large head, the horse turns and leaps back down the street, and I silently wish him safe travels to whateverdestination.
I look up at the large building ahead of me and take a steadying breath. The massive black facade is nothing if not intimidating. I almost wish for the dreamlike haze I was in last time I was here. Squaring my shoulders, I take a breath and push through the front door. The lit candles and smoke are familiar, but what I need is a way to the top floors. After a few moments of searching, I locate a lift at the far side of the massive entry hall.
I enter the open lift and press the button for the top floor. Nothing happens. I growl at it, but that obviously doesn’t do anything. I let out a sigh and rest my head against the panel, reaching for some idea, anything that might help with this. I can’t hit a dead end here, I feel that clearly.
I also know full well that my body isn’t even capable of climbing several flights of stairs. Certainly not the hundreds of flights it would take to get to the top of this building. At least not without a demon’s aid.
