Page 10 of Soothsayer

“We need to get him home,” Marisol said with a sigh.

“I’ll bring a car around.” Phin left, and Marisol touched my cheek.

“Cillian? Are you ready to go?”

“So ready,” I muttered.

“Can you stand up?”

“Sure.” She helped me to my feet, and amazingly, I stayed there. My arm felt sore but not brutally painful, and I stared at it in awe as I slowly bent and straightened it. “Wow. It still works.”

“Yes, you little idiot, it does,” Marisol snapped. “Come on now, we have to get downstairs.”

“No, no more stairs!” I moaned. Maybe I was a little high at this point, or just stupid from blood loss. “I hate stairs.”

“Oh, me too, but you’ve got to handle them anyway. Come on.” She gripped me like iron around my arm and led the way down to the street. Phin had his own car pulled up, and it didn’t take long for us to get the few blocks back to Marisol’s place. The two of them got me upstairs and into bed after making me take another antibiotic. Once they were gone, I was on the verge of sleep. Such good, good sleep. I was so tired I knew I’d be unconscious fast. I relaxed, closed my eyes, and let the drugs and the pain and the stress carry me off to sleep. I hoped I’d be too tired to dream.

Instead I sawhim, over and over again, his beautiful young face twisted by shock and fear as it vanished into a pool of blackness.

Chapter Six

Dreams were always a problem for me, but dreaming ofhimwas the worst. I’d made a lot of bad decisions in my life, poor choices that couldn’t be explained away with youth and stupidity, but the things I did with him were far and away the most shameful moments of my life.

I could try to excuse it by saying I’d been a captive, trying to escape before the patriarch of that twisted family lost patience and did away with me. I could say my mother had failed me by not letting me know about the danger that was coming before I tumbled into it, head over heels. I could sayheshould have been the one to bear the shame, since he had technically been free while I’d been the one imprisoned. All of that would be lies, though—awful, facetious lies. The truth was, I’d seen an opportunity in Sören’s eyes, and I took it.

I’d never witnessed anything like that in another fate since, a moment of teetering where my own actions would make a significant change in another person’s destiny. I’d never seen itbefore that, either. By the time I’d realized what was going on, it had been too late to turn back. I might as well have shoved Sören down the lightless hole I saw in his eyes myself. The only thing I knew—knew completely, uncontrovertibly—was that he was dead. He had to be dead. There was nothing left to see. The vision ended in the dark, with all his fear and confusion and helpless anger consumed by…

I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know, but my mind wouldn’t let go of it. The painkillers kept me under for a long time, and every second of it was a misery, because every second of it was with Sören. Worst of all, it wasn’t just the end that replayed in my mind. I remembered every minute with him, from the first halting, shy glances to the heat of his fumbling, eager embrace. I remembered every moment of seducing him, turning him to my purpose and sealing his fate in a way I hadn’t understood then and hadn’t cared to. He’d been a means to an end, and it wasn’t until the end came that I’d realized what a goddamn idiot I’d been.

I woke up with a headache and a hard-on, which I glared at before stumbling to my feet and heading to the shower. My arm hurt?it hurt like hell?and I swallowed another painkiller and antibiotic before turning on the hot water.

“Cillian!” Marisol banged at my door. “You better not get that wound wet. Come here, let me wrap it.”

Oh, for the love of… I stared down at my crotch. Nope, still there. Whatever. I’d leave the door mostly shut and just hold my arm out. She could deal.

I opened the door a crack and saw Marisol, hair pulled back into a messy bun and wearing nothing but a purple sarong and her slippers.

She tapped the doorjamb with a box of plastic wrap. “Come on then, let me see it.”

“Hang on.” I tried to turn myself so I could stick my right arm out the door while still concealing the rest of me, but extending it was harder than I’d thought it would be.

“Just open the door.”

“Give me a minute.”

“Stop being an idiot and open the door!”

“Mari!”

“Cillian!” She looked me up and down and then rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I’ve seen it all before. You’re not going to shock me with your morning wood.” She pushed past me and into the room. “Sit down.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re pushy,” I groused, but I sat for her. She touched my right arm with warm, tender fingers that belied her snappish tone.

“I bathed you as a baby,” Marisol reminded me as she peeled back the bandage and got a look at my arm. “Right there in that very same bathtub, so don’t get stupid with me when I’m just trying to make sure you don’t injure yourself further.” She ran her hand up to my shoulder and pressed on the muscles there, making me groan with relief. “You should wear a sling today, let your arm relax.”

“It’s done nothing but relax for the past twelve hours.”

Marisol gently smacked the side of my head with her free hand. “That’s all itshouldbe doing, after being shot. Honestly, Cillian.” Her lips were terse lines as she rewrapped the bandage and carefully covered my elbow with plastic wrap. “I called your mother last night.”

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