Despite the stiff way her meeting with the Weavers had ended, she felt a little bit of hope. Finally, there was an angle of attack to whereshecould be the one to hurt Drayer, and not the other way around.
Even if it means I have to be a monster just like him.On that thought, Gentry shut her eyes and fell asleep.
thirty-three
Kit
It was late morning by the time Kit returned to Apartment -651. He, Mary, and the others had stayed up all night looking for the children, and it’d been a heartbreaking revelation when they’d come up short. The Underground had yielded no signs of them, although some vamps had even volunteered to look for the witchlings.
Those negotiations had all gone to shit when the enforcers had shown up and scared the vampyres scurrying every which way in the tunnels.
It had been Mary who’d ordered everybody to get some rest, and Kit had watched as the siblings he hadn’t seen in years had all left together. Yet another thing he’d cheated himself on. Mary had ensured that all of Nona’s orphans were recruited into the same coven — the reputable Spinners, who specialized in making charms of all sorts.
It was a peaceful coven, a rarity in Skadra. None of his siblings had to go through a violent initiation or missions they might not return on. Rather, under Mary’s tutelage, they studied while at the shelters and proved themselves worthy to the Spinnersthrough a series of charm tests, who readily accepted them. Kit was proud Mary had carved out such a life for their family. In due time, she’d likely become the Spinner leader and all of Nona’s orphans would have a guaranteed home in Skadra.
Shaking away thoughts of what could’ve been, Kit knocked on the apartment door and waited. No answer.
After a few attempts, Kit gave up and started disengaging the wards through the loophole he’d left himself. He hadn’t wanted to use it, preferring Gentry feel in control of her own space, but oh well. The door clicked open to veiled darkness and he stepped through.
His dim witchlight revealed that Gentry was sleeping on the single bed in the tiny apartment, the sheets twisted all around her. The magic-less girl looked unhappy with her petite face scrunched and her fists balled. Her breaths came out in short huffs.
Kit watched her awhile, feeling bad that she couldn’t even catch a break in her sleep. But then she whimpered.
That was the last straw. Cautiously, Kit at on the bed and shook the girl’s shoulder. “Gentry, wake up, hon. You’re having a nightmare.”
She cried out again and her fists hit his chest likehewas the one scaring her.
“Shhhhh,” he soothed, trying his best not to freak because she wasn’t waking up, “you’ll be okay. Now open your pretty eyes.”
To his surprise, she listened to him, her emerald eyes fluttering open. She looked terrified. But his view was cut short because then she flew into his arms, small and shaking and scared. Kit immediately put his arms around her and stroked her hair, the part of him that was ingrained to take care of her coming out.
He wasn’t sure how long he held her until her breathing slowed down and she was sleeping restfully again. Only that her grip on him tightened when he tried to let her go.
Giving up was the easiest thing in the world to do. Kit settled on his side, Gentry clinging to his chest, her slow breaths encouraging his own. Kit felt his mind settle, and he dared press a kiss to the crown of her head. A thank you of sorts, because he was surethiswas the only scenario where sleep could find him after such an incredibly shitty day. Finally, he’d done something right for someone else.
Between one breath and the next, Kit drifted off.
thirty-four
Gentry
Swing. Swing. Swing. Gentry never knew that she would miss the ability to close her eyes. But then again, she hadn’t been smart enough to die with her eyes closed.
Blackness would’ve been a welcome distraction from watching the crowd watch her. As the wind played its part to push her up in her chains and gravity did the rest. Swing. Swing. Swing. Like a marionette puppet only without the blessing of cloth flesh. No, hers was changing by the hour. Stiffening. Becoming a thing. She was a thing.
Gentry fought the urge to leave the husk, to end the torment for the call of nothingness. She’d never believed in a god, so she wouldn’t start now. Swing. Swing. Swing. A little girl puked at the sight of her. Only the birds seemed to like her.
She’d never realized how terrifying a bird was once it no longer feared you. It had flown in low sweeps close to her face in a test. It landed once it was sure she was dead. Its talons flexed into her shoulder without reserve, made its mark into skin that could no longer feel. But that didn’t stop the horrorwhen the first one dared to tear at her flesh with its beak. She heard it gulp its treat down before it went for another chunk.
Gentry fought to make her throat work, to command the muscles to scare the vermin eating her away. But it was a useless effort. Its friends joined in. Tearing and gulping down what remained of her.
Swing. Swing. Swing.
Gentry had fought to wake from the nightmare, but it seemed the tonic had taken away her ability to wake up, or scream, or do anything to stop the birds from eating her. Hopelessly, she teetered between consciousness and those terrible beaks.
But then she felt something warm and alive press into her, and the beaks went away. Distantly, she knew it was Kit, knew that she should wake up and handle herself. But she didn’t want to. This time, when she drifted between being asleep and awake, it was soothing, peaceful.
It was the best rest she’d gotten in years.
