“We’ll figure it out,” Diavolo says. “My concern now is healing you before the numbing illusion wears off and you start to feel pain again.”
The black light intensifies around his hands and a look of deep concentration falls over his face.
Across the clearing to my right, one of the trees groans, and its lowest hanging branches turn slowly black as if it’s rotting at an exponential rate.
My broken leg begins straightening out and a blissful sense of relief comes over me.
At that same moment, Lucian groans.
His butt sways in the air before he slides all the way down onto his stomach.
At the contact of his chest with the ground, his eyes fly open, but his shout is muffled against the moss. “What the fuck?”
He rolls onto his side and jumps to his feet, dragging his wings up with him, and then he stands there, swaying unsteadily.
When I first met Lucian, he was completely in control. A menacing figure full of deadly threats. His hands were covered in golden rings, he was wearing an expensive-looking suit, and he didn’t hesitate to make his power and status known, but now…
The mask he wore has cracked wide open to reveal all of his vulnerabilities.
I’ve seen his fears. Probably, more accurately, I’ve seen himfacehis fears. I’ve watched him stand up to our father’s cruelty.
Now that we’re in a brighter place, I can make out the edge of the tattoo on one of his biceps. I can also see a strange glint across the tops of his wings and the edges of his feathers, a sort of sheen that catches the light.
The shadow he casts is once more like a dark aura around his form, dragging at the light around him.
I can also clearly see the burns across his face and neck. The scorched sections of his shirt.
He looks beat-up and downtrodden and painfully unsure of himself.
And yet…
He looks more powerful to me now than he did before he faced our father.
“What happened?” he asks, swaying when he tries to look around, his unsteady assessment coming to a stop on Anarchy.
She snarls up at him, a threatening sound, although the brightness in her eyes speaks to a continuing curiosity. When she first met Lucian, she was very restrained in her reaction to him. Her nostrils flared as if she were assessing his scent, but if anything, she seemed confused. I wonder now if that’s because she sensed what I didn’t at the time: that he was my brother.
“We’re safe,” I say.
“Speak for yourself,” Lucian grumbles, continuing to eye Anarchy, whose snarling only grows louder and silver eyes, brighter. She seems to be taking great delight in his discomfort.
Diavolo’s magic halted abruptly when Lucian stirred, and I understand why. Any break in the keeper’s concentration could cause him to drain life from an unintended target like Anarchy or Lucian or even, harmfully, from me.
Before he can resume healing me, Lucian’s focus shifts to the trees around us and he gives a sharp exclamation.
“Wait!” His eyes have widened and his speech is rapid. “Where are we?”
“Portland,” the keeper says, calmly, not reacting to the sudden, clear panic in Lucian’s voice. “West of the city.”
“West? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Lucian shakes his head rapidly. “No, this can’t be happening.”
He stumbles toward me, even though he’s too unsteady to make it far. In fact, I’d wager he’s about to fall on his butt. Which would be fine, except that his panic is becoming contagious.
“We can’t be here!” he exclaims. “We need to get the fuck out of here.Now.”
I glance nervously at Diavolo, whose lips are pursed. He doesn’t look worried, exactly. Maybe more peeved than anything else…
“Nobody fucks with the wolves who control this forest,” Lucian rushes on, nearly bumping into Anarchy as he stumbles another step in my direction. “Nobody. Not my father, not Vanguard, not Jonah?—”
