Page 89 of The Devils' Darling

“Trust me, baby,” he says, “you don’t want to see them carry her out of here. We can go and see her later, if you want, but for now, let’s get you upstairs. Please.”

“I don’t want Mom to be alone,” I sob.

“She won’t be alone,” Nataniele says. “I’ll stay with her. Mackenzie, please, you look as white as a sheet, and you’ve been injured. Let the paramedics look at you, and I promise, I won’t leave Lucia’s side.”

He bends down and takes her hand, his thumb brushing over her skin.

A new respect for this man blooms in me. “Okay,” I whisper to Dom. “Okay.”

The tears fall as I let him hold me to his chest.

“We’ll get one of the paramedics to come up to the room,” he says. “They can look you over up there.”

He carries me away from the chaos and my mom’s body, through the college, and up to our rooms.

We pass Nataniele’s quarters, and the idea that my mom will never go into those rooms again enters my head and starts the tears flowing faster. I feel as if I’ll never stop crying. Never smile again. Nothing seems real. This can’t be real.

He lets us into my room—I don’t even question why he has a key—and carries me over to the bed.

Kirill brings me a glass of water, and I sip at it shakily before pushing it away. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything other than to bring my mom back.

I curl onto my side and cry hopelessly into my pillow, until eventually a paramedic comes. I’m only distantly aware of him checking me over. I’m barely present as I go through the motions, allowing him to clean and dress my wound.

“I can give her something to help her sleep,” I hear him say to Dom and Kirill.

“Yes, I think that will be a good idea,” Dom replies.

They maneuver me again, this time to sit me up and get me to take some pills. I swallow them down like a good little puppet, and then lie back down. I just want them to leave me alone with my grief. I’m sure it will swallow me whole. That they’ll come back one day to find I’ve just vanished, sunken into myself and become nothing, like an imploding star.

Chapter 39

Domenic

I’m worried about Mackenzie. It’s been weeks now since her mom died, and she’s barely gotten out of bed.

I’m worried about Valentino, too. Because of his injuries from the blast, he’s been put on some pretty heavy meds. He’s been sleeping more than usual, which is understandable, but even when he’s awake, he’s withdrawn.

They ended up taking him to the hospital for x-rays and scans. He has a fractured skull from the blast and a mild concussion. They said time will mend things for him, but he’ll need analgesics while he’s healing, and that’s a worry.

He’s withdrawn from us all, just adding to the rift that is slowly splitting us apart.

Kirill and I sit in the den, a somber mood hanging over us. We don’t really know what to do with ourselves. Regular lessons have been cancelled because of the bombing and the investigation that followed. It’s ironic that the attack on us wasn’t from within our world, but, because of the college and the nature of the student body, it’s caused a massive headache for my father and the other senior staff members when dealing with the authorities.

We were given work to do online, but none of us have bothered to do it. It’s as though we’re still shellshocked that something like this can have happened, and fearful of it happening again. Of course, I know it won’t. I killed Paxton with my own hands, but, in our business, there’s always going to be danger lurking around the corner.

I’ve been curling up in bed with Mackenzie at night, slipping into her room while she’s sleeping and wrapping myself around her. I know she’s been having nightmares about everything that’s happened, and when her body tenses in my arms and she starts to whimper, I hold her tighter and stroke her hair until they ease.

I admit that being so close to her without anything physical happening between us has been hard. I have the bluest of balls that have only been kept at bay by watching the video footage I have of Mackenzie and looking at her dirty photographs, while masturbating like a teenager. Only a month ago, I’d probably have just fingered Mack while she slept and come in her panties, but I’m a changed man…well, maybe not changed, but slightly better adjusted.

Though the need to cut myself has been strong, I’ve been stronger. It’s an addiction I’ve had to fight, and I’ve fought it for her. She needs me now, and I refuse to wallow in self-pity, as tempting as it is. Instead of giving in to a blade, I’ve taken myself out on a run, pounding the trails around the college.

It’s not been easy, but it’s worth it. She’s my priority now.

Kirill sometimes sits with Mackenzie in the day, and I’ve heard them talking, their voices low and sad. They both have recently lost a parent, and they were both trapped down in that basement and went through hell, so, on those occasions, I leave them to talk, not wanting to interrupt. It’s never for long, anyway, and when I ask Kirill if he feels there’s been any breakthrough, he always shakes his head.

Mackenzie blames herself for everything that’s happened, and nothing we do or say seems to get through to her.

“Fuck,” Kirill suddenly says.

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