Page 95 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

“Why the fuck are you the one rescuing me?” Regis grumbles.

“Because Ophelia ordered it,” I snap. When he leans against me as we shuffle towards the open doorway, I know he’s not quite recovered. There’s no other way he’d allow himself to rely on someone like me.

I bite down on my lip and glance back at the gray faced, glassy-eyed woman on the dirt floor. Frowning, I notice the black veins that have stroked up the sides of her neck and face, visible even through the makeup. I glance away and move forward.

“Is this the Hollow City?” Regis asks, his voice full of grit, confusion, and also a little bit of shocked awe as he glances up at the light-filled cavern we’re in.

“Yes.” I nudge him forward. It isn’t until Regis and I make it to the staircase leading up to the tunnels—the path having taken twice as long as the first time as we pause to hide from passersby—that I decide to tell him some of what I uncovered.

He takes one step onto the bottom of the stairs, reaching for the iron railing and hefting himself to the next. I follow a step or two behind, ensuring he doesn’t fall even as I continue to survey our surroundings.

“Regis…” My voice is quiet, nearly a whisper, but he hears it.

Glancing over his shoulder, Regis arches a brow at me. “What?”

I take a breath. “When we get back to the Underworld, you should … see one of the medics.”

He rolls his eyes and takes another two steps before he replies. “I’m bruised, not broken.”

I grit my teeth, not wanting to say the next words that come out of my mouth. “The merchant that took you was planning to sell you to that woman,” I tell him.

Regis pauses on the next landing of the stairs. “He … was going to sell me?”

When he looks back, I nod. Regis turns ahead and after a moment, he starts walking again. This time, his movements are far more stiff and uneven as if they’re suddenly extra painful.

“He didn’t…” Regis states. It’s not a question, but I answer it as if it were.

“No.”

We climb the final steps and stop at the entrance to the tunnel.

“Nothing happened to me while I was unconscious.” Another non-question. “Drugged,” he mutters. “I had to have been drugged.” I can practically hear the thoughts circling in his head as the hands at his sides clench and unclench into fists. He sways where he stands.

“Regis…” His shoulders hunch inward away from me at the call of his name. Unable to help myself, I reach out and touch his back. He flinches and my hand drops away.

“Yes, you were drugged and I don’t think anything happened while you were unconscious,” I say. “But … if it’d been me, I’d want to know for sure.”

Ocean blue eyes look back at me, darker than I’ve ever seen them and full of phantoms I’ve seen too many times in the last seven years. I never expected to see them in his.

“You came for me because Ophelia sent you.”

I nod.

“Did she tell you to kill for me?”

I blink. “What?”

He turns to face me. “Did Ophelia tell you to kill for me?” he repeats the question.

“Regis, I?—”

“I’ll keep this secret,” he says, cutting me off. “Just this once.” He holds up a finger. “We’re not … friends.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. This is what I’m used to from Regis—anger, annoyance, distrust. I roll my shoulders back. “I don’t have to be your friend to know what’s right and wrong, Regis,” I tell him. “I would’ve killed anyone who attempted to commit rape. It had nothing to do with you.”

Regis snorts a strained laugh and shakes his head, dropping his hand and finger. “Right.” He nods and then, absently, he repeats himself, “…right…”

“Come on.” I gesture toward the tunnel opening. “Let’s get out of here and back to the guild.”

---