Page 64 of Cry for Help

“Will Murmur be okay?” I’d been trying really hard not to look at him. He looked dead. I wished I could help, but I wasn’t a healer.

Stolas winced. “Murmur is injured. Your scream... He was already hurt from Behem’s ministrations before.” Stolas pushed his fingers through his hair again, glancing at Murmur’s stillform. “Behem broke something. An arm, a leg, I don’t know. We don’t heal like we used to.”

I couldn’t heal people. It just wasn’t in my power. Not unless I claimed them.

“And the auction? Did you buy me as bait?” I pressed. “You knew I was Sídhe and planned to sell me out?”

Stolas gave me a dark, offended look but didn’t answer my question.

“You should sleep.” He told me. “I’ll keep watch.”

My teeth clattered together, pulling me from a dream into a harsh reality. The temperature had dropped enough to wake me. While I hadn’t given much thought to sleeping on the cold concrete, it seemed that Stolas had taken it upon himself to drape his body over mine like a demonic comforter.

Murmur had rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were bleary as his chest rose and fell with short, sharp movements.

My breath fogged in front of my lips, and though the cell hadn’t been warm before, it hadn’t been outright freezing either.

“Behem turned off the heating,” Stolas said dryly, his breath tickling my ear. “I’m not sure who he’s trying to punish.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t comment because I didn’t know the answer either.

The dream still hoovered behind my eyelids, lingering on my mind and refusing to let go. It was the same dream as before. The memory of my mother and the sounds of her being eaten, only this time, I saw her body. Torn up and ravaged.

I’d never seen her body before; my mind clearly didn’thave the imagination to conjure up something that terrible—but now I knew what a half-eaten person looked like; I didn’t need to imagine. My brain supplied the image, only instead of the Sídhe’s pale blue eyes, it was my own green reflected back from my mother’s face. Her dark hair, like mine, was matted with blood, gummy, and stuck to the missing pieces of skin on her face.

“I hate this,” I whispered, my voice rough from disuse.

Stolas jolted, shaking his head to himself. “I knew you could speak, but I wasn’t ready forthat.”

I’d forgotten he hadn’t heard my voice before.

“My voice is pretty normal.” I kept the volume just above a whisper.

“It’s ratherhusky.”

“You mean deep.” I lifted a brow though I knew Stolas couldn’t see. I shivered, unable to contain my reaction to the cold. Stolas shifted, moving more of his body over my exposed shoulder.

“Did Murmur tell you the story of the fall?” Stolas wondered.

“He said you knew Lucifer. Back in the day.” I remarked lightly. “He said you were caught up in the coup and kicked out of heaven.”

Stolas winced. “Murmur always tells the truth, but it doesn’t mean he’s always right.”

“So that whole story about being thrones, and getting caught up in Lucifer’s betrayal, was bullshit?”

Stolas hissed a laugh through his teeth. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“I don’t often use it,” I admitted.

Stolas nodded his agreement. “In Heaven, the Summerland, there are many hierarchies. The Seraphim are the top dogs. They interact with Nova directly. They are her chosenfavorites. I’m not sure how many there are now, but there were about twelve when we were there.”

I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. It was hard not to fall asleep with his warm body pressed against mine. Though Stolas was slim, he was tall and curved into a cocoon around me.

“Thrones assist the Seraphim.” He continued. “It was why my gifts, and those of Malphas, Caim, and the others, are more academic in nature. We weren’t a destructive force like the Seraphim. We were advisors, planners, teachers. The Seraphim are full of magic, but they are volatile. Nova loved them for their faults, but they had too much of her power inside of them. I worked with Lucifer, not that he listened much to me. More often than not, I was an owl sent to do his bidding. To spy on the other seraphim.”

“An owl?” I quipped. “So, Malphas is the raven. Murmur is the vulture. And Caim is the thrush?”

“The Flock.” Stolas agreed.

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