Page 58 of Shattered Veil

Damn. Purgatory suits me.

Chapter 12

Wind ran through my lungs, rattling as if it were my last chance to taste it, and I was entirely upright before my eyes even had the chance to open. A clacking noise sounded to my left , my fingers clutched at my bare chest, and I attempted to slow my breathing with repetitive inhales and exhales as I glanced to the side table beside me to see…pancakes. And bacon. Cocking my head at the square, grey plate, I absorbed its appearance for all of two seconds before I looked upward to see a wide-eyed Cassie with her own plate of pancakes in her left hand.

She looked to have just flinched in shock, awaiting further surprises other than me waking in her bed as if I were a vampire rising from a coffin and she were my next meal.

Cassie gently asked, “My God, are you good?”

I legitimately debated my well-being as I recalled the details of the hours past—the time spent after I had arrived at her home, that is—after the acts that had occurred on her couch. Cassie had retrieved a wet hand towel, ensuring that I was thoroughly clean of my own mess, and we abandoned the remainder of our whiskey and the majority of our clothing to retire to her bed.

And though I was atop a plush mattress and thoroughly comfortable with the fact that we had succumbed to pleasures within each other and shared sleeping arrangements afterward, I wasn’t, as she had asked, good.

My recurring dreams seemed to have shifted to a new topic—one that clenched to my bones as if it were bestowing upon me the weight of an impossible clairvoyance. For the second night in a row, memories had blended with unexperienced visions in my dreams. Flashes from the night of Peter’s murder came first. Then, Cassie in the throes of passion above me—a dream that had come to fruition mere hours ago, the sepia ambiance of the fireplace and all. Scenes that I hadn’t witnessed with my own eyes came next—a blonde woman who appeared to be badly beaten, followed by Cassie’s bittersweet expression angled up to mine by the force of my own hands. The visions of the injuries I had witnessed being sustained when Claire’s past had come to bite her were after that. Liam, whose wounds were missing from my last nightmares, was last—he was still alarmingly visible in the dark of night, screaming as he fell to the ground and clutched at his left shoulder.

It was at that point in my nightmares that I was woken by his sister, and the sight of her brought a light that attempted to break through the fog of it all. Trepidation still clung to me, though. I had thought nothing of it the night prior, but the events, if the others were to occur, were horrifyingly out of order in my life’s timeline. Though I didn’t believe in any sort of precognition, my mind still churned as to why this would be the case, and the cold sensation of dread remained in my bloodstream.

“James?” Cassie quietly called to me.

“Fine,” I told her. “Got startled.”

She tentatively sat on the mattress, and I shimmied my way out of the blanket to sit up beside her and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Cassie set her own plate on her lap, and she pressed:

“You sure?”

I blew out a last, loud breath. “Yeah.”

Finally able to fully take her in, I noticed that she was dressed and ready for an outing. Or, rather, her makeup was prepared for an outing. While her clothing announced to the world that she was having a night in with black leggings and a maroon top that looked to be made of a comfortable, stretchy material, her face was done up. Much to my dismay, her freckles were concealed. Her eyes, though—black eyeliner rimmed her upper lid in a fashionable wing, and her eyelashes were, somehow, longer and fuller than usual. They drew me into her warm gaze in such a way that I had to blink twice to collect my thoughts.

“You, um,” I stammered, “brought me food?”

A corner of her lip tugged upward. “You were out like a light, but it felt unfair for me to only make myself a meal. It’s been almost a whole day since I last ate…figured you were hungry, too.”

The gesture made my chest warm, and I truly meant it as I replied:

“Thank you.”

She briefly showed me her teeth. “Mhm.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Four o’clock.”

“Four o’clock?” I returned disbelievingly. “In the afternoon?”

“If it were the morning, I’d be concerned that you fell into a coma,” she remarked as she cut into her pancake with a fork.

I deduced aloud, “I slept for nine hours?”

“Warm fire, a little whiskey, what looked like some vivid dreams.” She glanced sideways at me, skirted past my nightmares, and offhandedly said, “Mutual masturbation.” She smirked, placing a bite of pancake in her mouth. “Mhm.” She chewed, then swallowed. “That’ll do it.”

Her casual mention of our fireside activities would have been a joy, but my thoughts were still swirling about from my rapid wakeup. I shook my head quickly, looked back to where I had once laid and then to the side table, and quickly muttered:

“Shit—has anyone called? Luke? Liam? Where’s my phone? I had it before we went to bed—”

“Charging,” Cassie replied as she reached for a piece of bacon. It snapped as she bit into it, revealing that it was exactly as crispy as it appeared. “In the kitchen. No one from the group called either of us.”

My body sagged in relief.

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