Something crashes in the bedroom, and then we’re all running that way.
THIRTY-ONE
Monster Realm Survival Tip #43:
Madness adapts faster than you do.
MALACH
There are two spikes embedded in my skull, one on each side, drilling in excruciating tandem.
I open my mouth and reach for Celine, then list to the side.
The room tilts.
Her brown eyes widen, fingers grazing mine.
Then I fall, crashing into something on the way down.
I hear furniture break—more sharp pressure against my throbbing head—then Celine is leaning over me, hands on my cheeks, worry in her eyes.
Her lips move, but I can’t hear her over the roaring in my head.
Agony sears my hip, and I clench my jaw tight to keep from crying out.Angry. So angry.I press my fingers to the spot, desperate for relief, but there’s none to be had.
Hands touch me again, gentle but frantic. They grope at thebuttons on my shirt.No, I can’t let her take it off.I link her fingers with mine and drag them to my temples.“Hurts,” I whisper.
Others join us. Someone waves their arms. Luca, maybe? Someone else shines a light in my eyes. Their conversation is too garbled for me to make out. It might as well be in a language I’ve never heard before.How did this happen?
I followed Celine into the bedroom to check on her. She was upset about Luca’s reaction to bonding with her. My plan was to listen, and I think I did that, so what happened? When I try to remember, I only find more layers of pain.
Someone places a cool, damp piece of fabric on my forehead, then Celine slides a finger between my pursed lips, opening my mouth enough to pour in a pungent liquid.
I swallow instinctively, although I’m doubtful that a witch-made potion can cure what’s wrong with me. It provides one small mercy, though, making my thoughts slow and dull enough for drowsiness to steal the bite from the pain.
I drift off with Celine’s hand in mine, dark vines dragging me into unconsciousness. The last thing I hear before everything fades away is a deep voice, whispering, “Shhhhhh.”
“What the fuck was that?”
“Honest to gods, he looked possessed.”
“Be quiet! He needs to rest.”
“But why? He slept last night. He’s eaten today. No injuries to heal from?—”
“I know, but it doesn’t change what happened.”
“What were you talking about before he fell?”
“I’m not even sure. I was upset. He asked if I was okay.”
“In what language?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know if it does. I’m just asking questions.”
“Ask fewer questions for a few minutes. That scared me to death.”
