Chapter thirty-one
Igive up on attempting to poison myself by way of liquor sometime around midnight and have just fallen into a restless sleep when a sharpcrackrents through the silence of the Indomnitus. My heart leaps into my throat and my death spears into the air, far readier than I am in my current state.
My head pounds as I sit up, my tongue thick and dry in my mouth. I swallow roughly, squinting into the darkness of my quarters. It is quiet and dark, and with a curse at my death for its paranoia, I slump back into the pillow with a groan. Though I no longer wish for respite from my magic the way I once did, Idowish it would leave me alone to sleep away my hangover.
I’ve just closed my eyes once more, when I hear another sound from the main deck. This time, the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps. I lurch from bed with another curse, nearly tripping over the same ottoman that plagued Sam a few hours earlier in my haste to retrieve my revolver.
It takes me far too long to find where I drunkenly tossed it beneath my desk, and even longer to steady my hand enough tocock back the hammer. I may not be able to kill the Aeternalis with my magic—or at all—but I can shoot him in the head all the same.
And I will for daring to step foot on my ship again.
No one else would be stupid enough to trespass unannounced, not when the want of death flows through my heart, rotting my veins and shading my vision. I level the pistol and wrench the cabin door open with a snarl that immediately dies on my lips.
It isn’t Peter.
For a protracted moment, the world slows like the Indomnitus is still trapped in the belly of the Crocodile; like I’m falling through the wards, even as I stand still, staring at the figure before me.
Willa.
I blink, frozen in place, and wonder if I’m still drunk; wonder if I’ve conjured her up in my desperation and she’ll disappear as all visions do.But as I watch her stagger, her wild, frantic eyes meeting mine in the darkness, I suddenly feel stone cold sober.
“Niko,” she gasps, my name in her mouth piercing through my trance. Her hair hangs in tangled ropes down her shoulders, stained the same shade of red as her face, her chest, her stomach—all of it painted with blood.
Without thought, I reach for her, just as I’ve done so many times in my dreams over the past year. Just as I always will, no matter the ruin that lies between us.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” A whisper, and then a plea. “Adytum. Give me sanctuary.”
Chapter thirty-two
Willa sways wildly. I catch her before she collapses, gathering her to me as a desperate sob bubbles from her throat. She writhes in my arms, her body twisting and contorting as if she’s in pain. There’s so much blood, it is impossible to tell where it originates. It coats her face and throat like a morbid mask; spreads over her abdomen in a wash of crimson, and splatters down her legs.
“Stop me, Niko!” she cries, burying her face against my bare chest. Her fingers claw at my shoulders, like if she digs her nails deep enough, she can keep me from slipping from her grasp like the wisps of a dream. “You have to stop me! I can’t—something iswrong.”
Her sobs wrack her body like violent tremors. Like the shadow that’s been trailing after her is now trapped behind her ribs, and fighting to get out. “Tie me up, Niko,please.I can’t—I can’tbearit!”
“Willa,” I breathe, still lost somewhere between waking and dreams. Still trying to regulate my breathing enough to fuckingthink straight, as the pain in her voice rends through my heart. Each beat is painful, like it’ll come straight through my chest and shatter at her feet.
She doesn’t seem to hear me at all, clenching her fingers into fists and beating them against my chest. “Tie me up with your death,” she cries, her voice cracking. “Slit my throat! Dosomething!”
I grip her wrists, trying to soothe her as she thrashes in my arms; as blood smears between us, still sticky and warm.
She moans in pain. “Don’t let me—don’t let me…”
“Willa,” I say again, because none of this feels real and her name on my tongue always has. I give up trying to tame her and pinch her chin between my fingers, dragging her panicked gaze to mine. “I have you.”
“Niko, I—”
“Ihaveyou,” I repeat, the words layered with our past and our present. “I’m what’s true, Darling. Whatever has happened, I have you and I’ll never let anything hurt you.”
Though her body stills, the way she gazes up at me unsettles me far more than the blood or panic or pain. Because behind all of it, true fear shines in her eyes. Blood rushes past my ears, ice cold and furious. Willa is hardly ever afraid—not when standing toe to toe with a lord of death, not when facing an army of soulless murderers. That she is afraid now has my death spearing out around us, intent on drinking the life of whoever has made her feel this way.
I blink wildly, trying to focus beyond its primal call, as Willa’s body goes slack in my arms.
“I’m—I’m not the one who needs protecting.” Her hands tremble as she raises her blood-crusted palms between us. “They need protecting. They need protecting fromme.”
I interlace our fingers together, staining my own palms as thoroughly as hers. Determined to keep her together, for once, instead of tearing her apart.
My death twines around our wrists, a binding and a vow. “I am not their sanctuary, Willa. I am, and will always be, only yours.”
