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We can’t let them slip through our fingers again, Zeke added.
Of course. Remmus cringed as his fists pounded against his thighs, the overwhelming need to cure his compulsion nearly incapacitating. I’ll update you as soon as I have something.
Zeke was gone from his mind without so much as a goodbye, and Remmus crumpled to the ground.
Shuddering, he crawled across the wooden flooring, sighing in relief when he pried open his fingers and grasped the hilt of the dagger before drawing it deeply through the flesh of his left arm.
Deep.
Deeper.
Each slice tore through flesh and released his demons, but where he expected respite, it offered only momentary relief. The urges began compounding in his mind, building upon layers of agonizing pain.
The need drove him to tear off his shirt and strike at the head of the snake. No matter how many times he drew the blade over his skin, it didn’t loosen the binding. Crimson coated him, seeping out of each cut until his palms were slick.
The ache in his mind never abated.
Growling, Remmus threw the knife away from him, collapsing on the bloodied floor. Each breath that he dragged into his lungs was a struggle; his body attempted to maintain consciousness when all it wanted to do was shut down.
But he’d promised Zeke he would find the Raeth.
Remmus allowed himself one more minute to lay there, pathetically grasping at the rapidly shortening straws of his power.
Something was fundamentally wrong with him. Why had his mother’s coercion overpowered him after all this time? After centuries of trauma, it was possible that his mind had weakened, only now to succumb to the smallest push. Whether it was the silver, the coercion, or centuries of damage, he had no way of knowing.
Groaning, Remmus rolled to his knees, distantly aware his pants were saturated with blood. He teleported another sweater onto his frame, struggling when one arm got tangled and he had to work his hand free of the material. But it didn’t matter—none of it did—except that his sovereign had asked something of him, and he needed to follow through.
One moment he was kneeling in his borrowed quarters in the den, and the next, he was facedown in the snow. Coughing and sputtering through the ice that’d lodged in his throat, Remmus struggled to rise to his feet. After scrambling upright, the world spun as dizziness shifted his vision. He threw his arms out for balance while he took stock of his surroundings.
The plant.
In St. Louis.
It was snowing.
Fisting a still bloodied palm to his throbbing temple, Remmus grimaced. Why couldn’t he concentrate? Why were his abilities wildly erratic? Why had he come here?
The darkness swathed the area in a blanket of secrecy, though Remmus couldn’t remember who he was hiding from. To his left was a chain link fence that rose high overhead, topping off with barbed wire that looked sharp.
It was apparent that he wasn’t meant to go in. Was that why he was here?
Teeth grinding together, he struggled to recall what Zeke had said to him only minutes before. Or had it been hours? Something about the Citizens. Something about a Raeth … who was their enemy?
A groan at his predicament escaped through clenched teeth, and he instantly knew it’d give away his position.
Failure.
This time, poison flooded every crevice of his mind. It spread like a thick black tar, snuffing out every bit of light he’d been clinging to. It choked him, each breath dragging in and out of his lungs like mouthfuls of broken glass.
He couldn’t be here. Remmus was too exposed, too confused. With every step he managed to take forward, he became more disoriented. Blood gushed down his arm and into snow, coating the white fluff with a bright red track.
He had to get back to Ava. Had to apologize.
Where was she?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pain lanced Ava’s chest, startling her awake from a fitful sleep. Eyes flying open to the quiet dark of her quarters, she stilled as her heart raced in response to unknown stimuli.
