5
HECTOR
Being unwantedly dragged into the shadows, teleporting god knows how many miles, and then being thrust back across time and space, really took the cake of being the worst fucking feelingever.
Seeing Arwyn, however… that was different.
Once the tidal wave of nothingness receded, I was faced with Romy who was wide-eyed and screaming. Wisps of Arwyn’s darkness oozed from my body like smoke. Romy kept her hands to herself, balled into fists at her sides.
“What the fuck was that!” she bellowed.
I lost my footing, my legs as weak as jelly. The urge to vomit came thick and fast. I clamped my lips shut and refused it. Doing everything I could to steady my heart rate, I swallowed down the hot bile and forced myself to calm.
I was back in our apartment in the heart of London, that much was clear from the view of the familiar kitchen around me. But there was no denying that I hadn’t been here only seconds before. Arwyn—the imprint of his touch—was all over me. My hands burned from the memory of him, my body aching for the poison fruit that he was.
“That,” I exhaled, head aching, “was Arwyn.”
Romy finally reached out for me, her hold comforting. The thought of doing anything to remove myself of the echo of Arwyn made the sickness in my gut worse.
I hated him, yes. But there was something more, a seed of betrayal to my own self-worth. And that bastard seed had set iron roots into my soul, refusing to budge.
“You’re going to need to be clearer than that, Hector. One second we were talking and the next you… well, poof. Just gone.”
“First, I need to sit down,” I said, the mention of disappearing making the universe rock beneath me.
In a matter of moments Romy had guided me into our living room, with its grand glass windows overlooking London’s skyline. I practically melted into the deep-navy sofa, luxuriating my trembling muscles into expensive memory-foam cushions that smelled like one of Romy’s lavender sprays. A cold glass of water was handed to me, with a half-eaten bar of chocolate from one of Romy’s not-so-secret stashes. Between the sugar and the lavender spray, I could feel myself relax enough to tell Romy everything.
Her mouth was wide open as I recounted my short moments with Arwyn. I watched as a multitude of emotions passed over her face, from horror to sadness to a deep-rooted fear.
“This is terrible, H. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”
“Correction,” I replied. “It’s a miracleheis still alive. I had a chance… I could’ve finished this.”
And yet, I didn’t.
“Regardless, he has potentially given us insight into the Hunters’ next attack. This is big.”
I took a large bite of chocolate. It coated my teeth, the caramel making my mouth thick as I added, “That’s if we believe him. He is his father’s son, and is no stranger to lying. He could be goading us with this alleged attack against the primeminister. There is no saying it isn’t all part of some grand plan that we haven’t worked out yet.”
Romy practically chewed on my accusation, plonking her butt on the seat beside me. “But his room was like a… prison, right? That’s what you said.”
I closed my eyes, replaying the moment before Arwyn cast me back into his shadows. When I’d opened the door to that strange room captured in the years of childhood, I’d been greeted by a locked gate made of bars, and two armed guards stood outside of it. All signs certainly pointed to Arwyn being locked up, but he was the all-powerful host to Bahmet—if he could teleport me across time and space, how were a couple of iron bars keeping him locked away?
“It could’ve all been part of his illusions,” I reminded, pained at the memory of the sheer amount of fakery that Arwyn had woven around the both of us. “Let’s not forget that he is well-versed with casting a fake image around him. I don’t believe him.”
“Listen, I’m not saying I do either…”
“I sense abutcoming.” I shot her a look, proving my point.
“But,” Romy said, dramatically. “Not believing him is one sure way of standing back whilst the execution blade swings. If Arwyn is telling the truth then there is no point just standing back and letting a move against the witches proceed knowing we have the time to stop it, right?”
Body buzzing with unspent energy, and yet equally exhausted, I wanted to do something. I had all these feelings sparking inside of my body; if I didn’t let them out I would surely explode. “Then you can be the one to tellthem. I don’t think the Coven will take kindly to me waltzing into the base and explaining that I’ve just had a one-on-one meeting with Arwyn Hopkin.”
I regretted the bite in my tone the moment Romy didn’t reply. The room fell into an awkward, tense silence.
“I’m sorry,” I added quickly. Peering over to Romy, she was leant back with her arms crossed, her inner cheeks pinched between teeth as she chewed nervously at the tender skin. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Romy shrugged off my apology. “But you’re right. I could go and warn the Coven and it would only lead to questions. Eyes will start looking this way for you. I can’t exactly walk into the White Tower and warn them about the attack tomorrow without putting weight behind my evidence. So, we are fucked then.”
