And Damien is chained to the bed.
I whirl to ask Damien if he recognizes this scene, but he’s gone, and so is the door I passed through. “Damien?” He was right by my side. Shit, shit, shit. That must mean I’m supposed to face this challenge alone.
I swallow hard and turn around, progressing deeper into the scene. I remember this place from the night I broke Damien out of Valeska’s chambers, but I’ve never seen the room exactly like this. Damien is completely naked, chained by the neck to the headboard. Sunlight glows against his skin. That would mean he’s mortal. He’s so thin, emaciated. I can count each of his ribs, and his skin is far too pale.
I remember him looking like this in his dream when I visited him using the Hitch and Cast spell, but it’s different seeing him here, helpless against red silk sheets with nothing to cover himself.
“You will drink from me.” Valeska’s voice has me palming my daggers and baring my fangs. She stands at the end of the bed in nothing but a short silk nightgown the same color gold as her eyes.
Damien says nothing. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t swallow. His chest barely rises and falls. He’s dying.
Valeska moves to his side and presses her wrist to his mouth. “Drink!” she commands.
Damien makes no move to drink. I sense he’s still strong enough. He’s choosing not to take her blood. My eyes burn as I understand what’s happening here. Damien is choosing to die rather than be bloodbound to her. This must have happened before I was able to reach him. By the time I was in Night Haven, he was bound to her, and he looked healthy. Not like the skeleton barely existing in this bed.
Valeska scores her wrist and brings it to his lips. I cringe but don’t look away. In the back of my mind, I know there is a puzzle here I’m supposed to solve. My only way out of this room is to figure out what it is and move beyond it.
Blood spills from the side of Damien’s mouth, but he does not swallow. Valeska’s scowl grows more pronounced. She leaves her wrist sealed to his lips and drags her nails down his chest, his abdomen. I hold my breath, shaking as her fingers trail lower on his body.
Something inside me cracks. I can’t watch her do this to him. I can’t let this happen!
“Stop!” I screech. I pounce like a predator, becoming a Tasmanian devil of whirling blades, biting fangs, punching fists and kicking legs. The Valeska of the shadowpath does not fight back. I shred her face, her neck, her torso. In minutes, I’ve reduced her to ribbons and am covered in her blood. It drips from my elbows as I crouch over her sobbing, my blades stabbing her torso again and again. I scream and scream and scream at her, reducing the slivers of her flesh to ground meat.
When there’s nothing left of her, I stand, trembling, and sheath my daggers. I’m still sealed inside the room. Killing Valeska was not the way out. I close my eyes and center myself, choking back my sobs. Everything about this has shaken me to my core. I can’t face the Damien on this bed again. I can’t see him hurt in this way.
Catarina said we would be faced with our traumas and that if we’d dealt with them, traveling the road would be less difficult. I’d known Valaska had forced herself on Damien in every way she could, but I’d never processed that trauma in a personal way because it was not my trauma; it was his. I’d avenged him when I killed her. So why was I in this room?
I round the bed so that I’m close to Damien’s head. He looks miserable, the muscles of his face and neck strain with pain but also…shame. I see it now. He shouldn’t feel shame for something he couldn’t control, but of course he did. Anyone would.
“You will drink from me.” Valeska is back at the end of the bed. The scene is replaying. Fuck. Nothing I can do will stop this. I wasn’t even here when it happened.
I look closer at Damien. I wasn’t here in this room, but I was in his heart.
“Drink!” Valeska commands, her bleeding wrist sealed to his mouth.
I bring my lips close to his ear. “It’s okay, Damien. Swallow. You will survive.” My voice comes out in a sob. I refuse to look at what Valeska is doing. I keep my eyes trained on him. “It doesn’t matter what she does to you. She can’t ruin you. She can’t ruin us. I’m coming for you, and when I do, we win. Do you hear me, Damien? We will win!”
His throat undulates. He swallows.
Behind me, there’s a click. The door is open. I’m free.
I race out of the room and slam the door closed behind me. The real Damien isn’t there in the hall with its black bricks and purple roses, but at least I’m free of that scene. Alone, and safe for now, I bury my face in my hands and weep.
DAMIEN
Eloise opens the door, and I step across the threshold into her mother’s art studio. I know this room well. I cleaned Tony’s blood from almost every surface the day he died. It’s similar to the one on Earth but slightly different, although to name what things have changed would be like playing one of those magazine games of find what’s missing. I see a version of her at the window. She’s wearing her coat and it looks like she’s frantically trying to open it, but the frame is painted shut.
“When did this happen, little bird?” I ask, but when I turn to where she just was, she’s gone. So is the door. I test the wall again, although the outcome is the same as before. Whatever challenge I am to face here, it seems I must do it alone.
I walk deeper into the room, just as the Eloise character whirls to face me.
No, to face Tony. He’s now beside me with a bottle and two glasses.
“We should celebrate our new partnership.” He opens the bottle with his teeth and pours two servings. He hands her one, but she doesn’t take it.
“I don’t drink anymore. Health reasons,” Eloise says.
“You’ll make an exception this time. I insist.” Tony forces the glass into her hand.
