Page 143 of Endless Terrors
His silken voice floated over me, meant solely for Collith. “Dracula is outside.”
Collith’s response rumbled against my ear. “I’ll speak with him. Can you stay with her?”
Laurie must’ve nodded, because I felt Collith stand up. He gently handed me off to the other faerie. Collith’s coolness retreated, and Laurie’s warmth replaced it. I was silent as the Seelie King’s arms slid around my back and beneath my knees.
They were treating me like I was helpless. I wanted to tell them I wasn’t, that I was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. How much more could I endure? How much more pain could I bear?
To my relief, Laurie didn’t try to give me any quotes, or talk about how brave I was. He just held me. His comfort was different from Collith’s, I thought in a detached way. He didn’t make soft sounds, or sway me. But his grip was fierce, almost as fierce as he was. It made me feel infinitely safe. A few minutes ticked by, and I felt that slow creep of falling asleep. Oliver won’t be there, I realized blearily. The thought didn’t hurt me because I was so far away.
“Look,” Laurie said. “The sun is coming up.”
The sound of his voice yanked me back to awareness. I wasn’t really interested in observing the sunrise, not when Finn couldn’t be here to see it. Not when his body was lying just a few feet away. But I looked anyway, mostly to humor Laurie. Bright, yellow ribbons streamed through the window over the kitchen sink, and the window farther down the hall. All at once, I heard Finn’s voice as if he sat right beside me. Good morning, my lady. I became half-convinced that if I turned my head, I’d see him there, sipping out of the white coffee mug he’d always used.
I looked away from the light and tucked my face into the crook of my arm.
“Close the curtain,” I mumbled. “Please.”
There was a pause, probably because Laurie was fighting the urge to argue. But he eventually set me down, his movements gentle in spite of the displeasure that permeated the air. I listened to the faerie’s soft footsteps as he moved to comply. I knew what he really wanted was to open those curtains wider and tell me to get up. Something held Laurie back, though. He pulled one curtain shut, then the other. He did the same at the other window and entombed the room in darkness.
Once he was finished, I sensed him coming to stand in front of me. “Fortuna,” he started.
“Don’t.” I rolled over and put my back to him. “Not right now. Okay?”
Another pause. “Okay,” Laurie said.
If he was disappointed in me, I really didn’t give a shit. And if he said anything else before he left, I didn’t hear that, either. I was already somewhere else. Not the dreamscape—I never wanted to see that place again. No, I was somewhere in the middle of countless tall, green trees. Somewhere with sun-tipped water and birdsong echoing across a vast, blue sky. There was a fishing pole in my hand, and I was back on the boat.
This time, it wasn’t empty.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A day passed.
It was one of those days that felt endless and like a blink at the same time. I drifted in and out of consciousness. My face still felt puffy. I only left my bed long enough to use the bathroom, and once, to force down a glass of water. As I drank, I was careful not to look toward the stain on the floorboards.
It all had the listless monotony of a day I’d lived before. We were old friends, grief and I. At least I knew what to expect during its long visits. I crawled back into bed and tugged the covers over me, ignoring the noises beyond my bedroom door. None of it mattered. Nothing did.
Hunger pangs woke me the next time. Dusk shone through a crack in the curtains, casting a burnt glow over the entire space, as though everything were quietly burning. My skin felt hot, too, but the light wasn’t completely to blame.
Collith was asleep in the bed. He held me as he dreamed, one arm draped over my hip while the other cushioned my head. I had hazy memories of Laurie being here, too. He’d spent several hours in the chair beside the window. The chair was vacant now, unsurprisingly. I lay there and stared at the dust motes floating around it. Then, to keep the thoughts away, I started to count them.
I needed to get out of this room.
I slid out from beneath Collith’s arm and crossed the room on the pads of my feet. The idea of food was unappealing, but fresh air seemed bearable. I slipped through the door and crept into the silent loft. The clock over the stove said it was only 5:30, but someone was sleeping on the couch. No, two people. I looked around, noting the other figures scattered throughout the sun-dappled room.
For the first time since Finn had died, the ache inside me eased, just a little.
It was all of them. My Shadow Court.
Cyrus and Ariel were asleep on the couch, her head resting against his shoulder. Seth was on the floor, curled around a throw pillow. Gil rested with his back against one side of the fireplace. There was a poker in his hand. Vampires were nocturnal creatures, and they didn’t often sleep. The fact that he hadn’t stirred when I opened the door spoke volumes—they must’ve stayed up all night, or they were drained from being tethered to me. Still, every single one of them had stayed.
Our wolf was gone, but we were still a pack.
Swallowing, I searched the room again. Besides Finn, there was one person missing. But I could feel him nearby, the bond between us relaxed and glowing. He was awake, his mind busy with thoughts and images I couldn’t quite make out. Curiosity shone through the fog in my own head. Slowly, I turned away from the people slumbering in the glow of the dying fire.
I went to the room at the end of the hall.
Sunlight slanted over the floorboards at my feet, and a bird called into the stillness. The door was ajar. I pushed it open and the hinges let out a thin whine. Nym was on the bed, drawing in a sketchpad I’d bought for him. To my faint surprise, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Emma’s doing, most likely. His long, bare toes peeked out from beneath the pant legs. Even with the clothes, and his pointed ears covered by his wild hair, Nym still didn’t seem human. There was something too old about his eyes.
