THIRTY-SIX
Traditionalnish thatshabetrothal vow:
You’ll never be alone, not in this life or the next, I swear it.
MALACH
Am I dead?My body is wrong, but I don’t hurt. I can’t remember the last time I woke pain free or managed to sleep without twinges invading my dreams.
I wiggle my fingers as a test. They brush against soft bedding, and my thumb grazes my hip. This isn’t S’lach’s cell. I’m no longer suspended. But how? The last thing I remember—panic floods me.My wings. No, no, no.I try to wiggle them like my fingers. Nothing happens. I can imagine the sensation, but there’s nothing to move. They’regone.
It wasn’t a horrible nightmare. He mutilated me.
I examine the memory carefully.
S’lach slicing my wings off and leaving me to bleed out.Why didn’t I?The device used a laser to cut, so maybe it cauterized the wounds. My stomach rolls. If I keep my eyes closed, maybe I canpretend for a while longer... except, I’ve never had a good imagination.
My wings are gone. S’lach took them from me, and I survived it. I try to move them again, and this time, a dull ache throbs beneath my skin.
“Easy, buddy.”Luca? How is Luca here?
A hand grabs mine and squeezes.Not alone. You’re not alone.Which can only mean one thing: Lyklan disobeyed my orders.I need to open my eyes to confirm it, but there’s a scream building in my throat, and I fear any movement, deliberate or incidental, will release it.Face this head-on. You aren’t alone.
My eyes open, stinging from the sudden light exposure. I blink as they adjust, focusing on the familiar face. Luca stares down at me. His brow is pinched, and the metal hoop through his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth. The sight is reassuring, and I relax into the bedding.
Luca won’t hurt me. He’s my friend.
Air leaves his mouth in a rush. “Damn straight,” he says. “I am your friend, Malach, and you scared the shit out of me.”
Am I processing out loud?Before I can figure it out, Luca bends at the waist and slowly wraps his arms around me. My skin crawls, and I flinch before frowning. He’s hugging me. That’s fine. Why do I hate it?
Luca sighs. “We thought afterwhat happened to you, it might be hard to be touched. I figured the sooner the better... Get back on the horse, you know?”
No, I don’t know. That’s an idiom I haven’t learned yet, but I think I understand what he’s getting at. If I can’t let anyone touch me now, it will only get harder with time. I’ll have to rewire my body if I want to get past this.
A door opens and closes, then Ciprian’s head appears over Luca’s shoulder, his pale hair in disarray. “Oh, good. You’re awake. Do youwant the good or bad news first?”
“Tell me,” I say, needing a distraction from the hug. “Tell me everything.”
“The good news is, you’re safe, your injuries have been healed—except for your wings—but don’t panic, we kept them and we’ve got a plan.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “They’re in the closet right now, because... Shit, Malach, they’re creepy as hell.”
I frown. “My wings are glorious.”
“Sure, when they’re attached to you, they are, but damn, dude, I’ll be honest: right now, they look like something a feral cat dragged in.”
Luca groans and pulls back from the hug. “He’s sorry for saying that out loud.”
“You said you have a plan?” I try to keep the hope from my voice and fail miserably.
Ciprian smiles and pats my ankle over the covers. “Yeah, my friend Sheena thinks she can regrow them for you. She tried to reattach them, but she was too weak from healing you. You looked—” He cuts himself off and winces.
“Like something a feral cat dragged in?” I attempt a joke.
But Ciprian isn’t amused; he seems haunted. He squeezes my ankle again and gulps. “Worse. You looked worse than that.”
“Re-growing my wings.” My breath hitches. “Is it possible?”
Ciprian nods. “We think so. Sheena lifted Alistair’s sun curse.”
