Chapter 32

The air rushed from my lungs, and I pulled back to look up at the face of my captor.

Zanthiel. Even as the cold from his touch penetrated my fevered delirium, I felt myself sob against his chest, collapsing into him.

“You're late,” he said gently, and he stroked the back of my hair…just once. “And you look like a harbinger of the zombie apocalypse.”

“Nice to see you, too,” I snarked, peeling myself from his cold chest. “Never mind how I look. What we’re facing is worse than a zombie apocalypse."

Zanthiel’s arctic gaze hardened. “We have to get out of this place. Can you walk?”

I think I might have nodded my head, but if I did, he saw almost immediately that it wasn't true.

He lifted me in his arms in the stairwell and kicked the door open with his boot. Too many people lined the brightly lit hall, and he retreated back into the stairwell. The sound of feet pounding up the steps toward us filled the stairwell. I closed my eyes against the sound, as if not seeing who was coming made it any better.

Will I ever be free of this nightmare?

The man I’d knocked out in my hospital room must have had friends. There was no end to the hunters working for the MBD. I knew this, and yet all I could do was bury my face in Zanthiel’s neck. I’m so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of suffering. Tired.

He set me down at the bottom of a set of steps. I winced as I made contact with the floor.

“Stay here,” he commanded. His voice, always so cool and reserved, was utterly frigid.

I did as I was told, not because I'd ever done it before, but because I had no other choice. My body was still under the influence of whatever drugs they'd been feeding me, and yet, with them leaving my system, the pain from the torture I’d endured was spreading. I slumped against the wall, listening to the crack and crash and repeated thud as Zanthiel struck down those who were trying to stop us.

Zanthiel was still fighting the last of them when the man I'd jabbed with the needle came down the steps toward me. He looked groggy but was in better control of his limbs than I was.

I inched away from him, all too aware of the fact that if I moved much further away I'd be tumbling down a flight of concrete stairs. But before he could reach me, Zanthiel was back at my side. A sharp grin on his face.

“Who have we here?” he asked, keeping his crystal gaze trained on my hunter.

“I could ask the same of you, friend.” The man rubbed the back of his neck.

Good. It still hurts.

“This is my icy knight in shining armor. To the rescue,” I said, my voice hoarse and scratchy. I leaned my head away from the wall to look past Zanthiel at the man. “Have you met Zanthiel? He's my ex…well, my ex-something-or-other. He has a strange fondness for turning people's hearts to ice. Before. Ripping. Them. Out.”

My vision wavered. My head dropped back and hit the wall with a dull thud. My eyelids drifted shut as my body slid down the wall to the floor.

What is happening to me?

Everything was cold and dark, then hot and blinding white, and then there was nothing at all.

When I opened my eyes, I was level with Zanthiel’s legs. He crouched down, settled his elbows on his knees, and peered into my face. “You went into shock. You all right now?”

I blinked once, then again before I remembered where I was and what had happened. “Where's the—"

“Human trash? He’s gone.”

“You mean dead?” I sucked in a breath.

“I mean gone,” he said darkly.

“What do you mean he's gone?” My voice pitched higher. If he was still alive, it meant he could...

“He can't hurt you because he won't be able to find you. You're going home.”

I pulled on his arm. “Zanthiel, I wanted to say goodbye. Vivienne... but she...” I looked down at the floor. It was filthy, but what caught my eye wasn’t so much the grime I was sitting in; it was the marks they had carved into my arm. They had healed, but the scars remained, fresh and raw, like a writhing message living beneath my skin. I closed my eyes against it, sickened by the sight of my own flesh, picturing how much more damage they’d done to the rest of my body.

Zanthiel dipped his head. He didn't respond immediately to this remark. Instead, he slowly inhaled a breath and released it. “I don't think that would be a good idea. I am sorry this happened to you, but you understand we cannot stay. Not even to say goodbye. You’d only be putting Vivienne at greater risk.”

I swallowed back a sob. “Yes. I know.”

“Are you certain you’re okay?”

“I feel fine,” I lied. “But I must not be fine.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because everyone around here was talking to me in singsong voices and acting like they wanted to get rid of all sharp objects.”

“Perhaps they should. You did stab an orderly in the hand with a syringe.” He gave a half smile. “When I heard the nurse mentioning the lunatic with the blood-red hair, I knew I had the right floor.”

I frowned, struggling to stand with his help. “I don’t remember that. What exactly is an orderly anyway?”

“I’ve no idea,” Zanthiel said. “The point is, the people who were helping you were not afraid of you, Venus. They were afraid for you.”

“Afraid for me. That's a first. I'm not afraid for or of them. I don't fear them, and I don't need them.”

Zanthiel’s eyes narrowed. He was particularly attractive when he was contemplative, so I leaned back, waiting for what he had to say.

"You will learn that among humans…especially the ones who care about you…benevolence will not be the last of their surprises. They are loyal with their affections.”

I rolled my eyes. It hurt. “You mean like Lorelei?” I said, mocking their singsong tones. “She was the epitome of loyal, never leaving your side. Like a dog. Or a fungus. But it’s no surprise you like her.” I shrugged in a poor attempt to shake loose a flicker of envy. “She's golden sunshine, and you're pure darkness. It's a known truth that shadows are drawn to the light.”

He nearly smiled. “She has their empathy, and that is why she will always be beloved. You and I, on the other hand, we're different. Only I’m beginning to understand that her way is…better. And you're still clinging to the idea that you can conquer the world, and thus your demons, by shutting everyone out. It does not work that way.”

I knew more about how humans felt than he gave me credit for. “Thank you for the poignant explanation extolling the virtues of humanity.” I breathed.

He didn’t even register my remark. “The humans you are trying to impress, they want what they want for good reason. You want what you want for obsessive, childish reasons.”

“And you’re different how exactly?”

“I didn’t say I was. Only that your way will not work with them. You cannot force a mother’s love and acceptance, Venus. You want her to love you? You need to prove you are worthy of it.”

I shook my head slowly, flicking my finger up and down in his direction. “See. You look like the dark, sinister Shadow Faerie I used to adore, but you lack all of his best traits.” I pointed to the exit, careful to use my right hand so my mangled left one remained hidden. "You can leave now. This is truly making me ill." I was tired of his drivel on the virtues of human relationships. If they were so kind and loving, why was I dumped on the doorstep of strangers instead of being taken into a warm and loving home? I hugged my arms around me.

Zanthiel shrugged. "I've more important tasks to attend to, if you do not need my help."

Panic shot through me like the needles they stabbed into my arm night after night. There wasn’t anything else I could do here in this world. Not for Vivienne. Not for Abby. Not for Luc or the little girl. "No. Wait. I'm sorry. I do need you. Please, please take me out of this place. I'm ready to go back. To go... home."

His eyes studied me for a second. "Good. Because Oberon will come looking for you, if he hasn't already. And I'd rather not spend the remainder of my days swinging from a noose on your father's tree of the dead."