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I think of the tattoo that I had changed on my chest. I know that the significance of it means far more to me than it ever will to her, but I'm proud to have a reminder of her marked on my body. Especially if she…No, I refuse to think of her not making it through this.
I pass the time talking to her. I'm sure anyone possibly listening thinks it's the ravings of a mad man but I keep talking. I tell her all of the things I always thought I had eternity to tell her. I tell her stories about the life I've lived, the adventures I've had, about my memories with Damon and Beckham and how I met them. It's my every wish that I'll be able tell her all of this again when she wakes up, that we all will be able to tell her stories about our past lives when she wakes up.
Somehow the thought of them being in her life doesn't fill me with the same amount of agony that it did before I saw her like this. I think of how all of our lives would cease to have meaning if she wasn't in it. And then I think of what would possibly feel even worse. What would be worse would be knowing she was out there in the world but not being allowed to be with her…that would be a pain worse than death.
Telling Eva all of these stories about my adventures with Damon and Beckham has reminded me just how much they're my brothers, my family. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to know you could make your family happy forever. The idea is an epiphany that strangely feels freeing. I realize that I had been experiencing panic over not just the thought of her not picking me, but also what would happen if she did.
I'm telling Eva all about my thinking on what seems like the hundredth day of me being here, when the roar of thunder drowns out my words. My clothes have stayed perpetually soaked since it seems to never stop raining here. It's almost like the rain is just another defense erected around the prison to keep people out. I start my explanation to Eva again, my voice rasping a bit since I never shut up, when I think I see her eyelid twitch a bit. My story trails off, but it's replaced with me crawling towards the bars of my cell that are closest to her, calling out her name.
Just when I think it's my imagination born from wishful thinking, I hear a soft groan come out of her, and I see her fingers move on her right hand.
"Eva," I call out. My heart seems to leap out of my chest when she finally opens those violet tinted, practically crystalline eyes of hers.
Chapter 18
Beckham
I never want to see a fucking raindrop again, pardon my French. It seemed like getting past the glamour meant that the next step was Eva, but that hasn't been the case. This place is a veritable funhouse of supernatural creatures. The distance between where we saw past the glamour, and where the fortress walls actually were, was in fact miles and miles, only appearing close thanks to some kind of magic with a sick sense of humor.
We've so far faced a whole pack ofJiangshi, which provided us a great deal of fun as you can imagine. After leaving behind their now even deader carcasses, we trudged through the mud, and up slippery rocks until we came to a roaring river. Of course, there we came across some sort ofBansheetype creature who was the keeper of the river. Damon had to actually let the thing kiss him to let us cross. I'm never going to let him live that down.
There were fourpixiusjust beyond the river. Nasty creatures who have been cursed to continually eat, but never defecate (some rumor about apixiuonce violating the decorum of a Chinese emperor by pooping on the floor), they supposedly hold evil spirits and demons inside their belly that they breathe onto unsuspecting passersby. Or at least that's the legend. Thesepixiusseemed to be more interested in eating us rather than breathing demons on us. Lexi, the bleeding heart that she is apparently, couldn't get past the idea of killing such legendary creatures and temporarily turned them into slugs, unable to turn back until after we were long gone.
After another half dozen run-ins with creatures obviously being used byHimto protect the prison walls, we finally find ourselves standing right outside the walls, grateful for the first time that there's a dense foliage everywhere that allows us to use it for cover as we come up with some kind of game plan. Up till now we had been flying by the seats of our pants and it seems at this point that Eva's, and hopefully Mason's rescue probably require a touch more finesse.
"Any ideas?" I ask Damon and Lexi as I study the stone walls to see if they would be able to hold our weight if we climbed them. Not for the first time I envy Damon's ability to fly. This would be a piece of cake for him to scale. I'm just about to unhelpfully complain about that fact when Lexi begins doing her seizure thing again. This whole trip she had seemed to be only halfway with us since the other half of her was always trying to press Eva's mind to see if she could get her to wake up from whereverHehad trapped her.
Lexi's shaking is furious this time, and she's gripping her hands so tightly that I can see rivulets of blood streaking from her fingers. Damon and I had learned to let her work by now though and so we both keep guard around her, hoping that this time whatever she is trying will work.
After what seems like hours, Lexi finally stops shaking, slumping for a moment as she attempts to recover from whatever spell she just cast. She finally sits up, a tired but euphoric look in her eyes as she looks at both of us and tells us what we have been waiting so desperately to hear.
"She's awake."
Chapter 19
Eva
I open my eyes and am surprised to see that I'm in the prison cell that I had imagined that one day practicing magic with Aiden, except this time I'm aware that I'm the one chained to the wall. I wait for my surroundings to go back to the fight, worrying how Aiden will fare paired with a lunatic partner, but the scenery doesn't change. Everything seems so real. I can feel the wet, moss covered stones under my legs and I realize that I'm dressed in what look like basically scraps of clothing that have been torn and ripped apart. I'm also filthy. I reach out to tentatively touch my hair and find that its matted down with dirt. There's streaks of dirt and cuts all over my legs and arms.
Unlike the wings of my memory, my beautiful ebony wings lay broken on the ground next to me. When I attempt to move them, I give a cry of pain. They seem to be barely hanging onto my body. I gather them up delicately in my arms and lay them over myself to try and keep me warm. What hell have I found myself in now? Did I never escape the Reverend's house of horrors and I somehow created an alternate reality to distract myself? I had heard of that happening before. People just cracked when their circumstances got too bad and they were trapped in a world that only existed in their brain.
"Eva," croaks a relieved sounding voice, making the chains attached to my wrists rattle as I jump. My shoulders ache where I've jostled my fragile wings. I try to get my bearings, the dim light of the prison making it difficult to see anything. My eyes finally come into focus and I see a badly beaten up man in the cell next to me. His face is so beaten that it's almost impossible to recognize his features. His hair is long, and hangs in strands just past his shoulders. He's covered in tattoos that are impossible to make out since there's blood and grime coating almost every inch of him.
Mason. The word comes back to me and with it a rush of other memories come streaming into my brain. Mason, Beckham, Damon, Lexi. Rothmore College. On and on they appear, all streaming back at once like they had been kept somewhere for safekeeping and were just waiting for me. Just like when Aiden gave me that potion that returned some of my memories, or I imagined that Aiden gave me the potion, my brain hurts from the effort required. I moan and hold my head. I faintly hear Mason pulling on his chains in frustration, trying to get to me.
I'm laying on the floor, tremors passing through my body, a mixture of what I've come to recognize is from extreme hunger and a migraine, when I hear a metal door clanging open. I hear footsteps and then a figure appears. It's Aiden.
At first, I feel like I've entered a different reality. I can't grasp what my eyes are seeing. The man walking towards me is wearing a smirk that's so familiar to me that I'm having trouble comprehending what it's doing on this man's face. He's a far cry from the Aiden of my memory, and my heart starts praying that this all isn't real. This version of Aiden is more demon than man, or Fae if my dreams are to be believed. The black of his irises cover his entire eye, there's no whites visible. He's much more emaciated than the Aiden of my memories, and his teeth are more shark-like than anything else and give quite the haunting impression. With these changes, I want to believe that this is someone else, but I've come to know that smirk far too well for it to be anyone else. He's dressed in fine clothing that fit too large, like he had shriveled up unexpectedly and hadn't had a chance to get clothes that fit.
Despite his emaciated state, there's a cockiness to his steps that I immediately find distasteful. I can feel the sense of betrayal blossoming in my gut and I heave unexpectedly, bending over the cold, wet, stone floor, unable to retch anything up but air. There's obviously nothing in my stomach as my extreme hunger pains can attest. Looking at the foul looking substances on the stones below me though have me threatening to dry heave again.
"Princess, is something the matter?" he asks me, mockingly using the same concerned tone that I imagine the other Aiden would have used if he had found me chained to a wall. He's unable to keep the act up for more than a second however when he bursts into mirthful laughter that echoes in the prison I've found myself in.
"Aiden?" I ask, my words coming out choked as I say them.
He kneels in front of me. "Tis I," he announces theatrically. "I must admit though, I thought we would be re-acquainted in this world under different circumstances."
"I don't understand," I whisper, unable to hide the pain that his presence is causing me.
