Page 36 of Invocation

Chapter 8

She awoke in a strange bed, in a strange room. But the warm presence beside her was familiar and comforting. She felt the hot, smooth skin against her naked back, and turned over.

His eyes were closed. She’d rarely seen him asleep before. He always seemed to wake before her. She took the opportunity to stare openly at his face, beautiful and placid. The serenity of the moment disappeared when she thought of the task ahead of them.

She couldn’t tell how long they’d slept, but it felt like a long time. They needed to get to the temple. They’d already lost too much time the previous day. They could not delay any longer.

“Aruna?” she said quietly, regretting having to disturb this perfect image of him. When he didn’t wake, she sat up and touched his shoulder. “Aruna.” She shook him gently.

He didn’t move.

She frowned down at him, suddenly seeing how he was just a little too still, a little too deep in sleep.

She thought of the wolf and the birds they’d seen on their way to Vondh Rav, and she stopped breathing.

“Aruna?” she said louder, and his face didn’t so much as twitch in response. A knife of fear drove through her core. She grabbed his arm and shook him. “Aruna, wake up. Please wake up.”

His body was limp in her hands. His eyes didn’t open. Novikke forced herself to put her ear against his chest, fearing she’d hear no life there.

A slow, steady heartbeat thumped in her ear. And he was warm. He was alive. Mostly.

“Please wake up,” she begged him. “Don’t do this to me.”

Every second that he didn’t wake brought the Panic closer. It was coming up her throat, clouding her vision, pushing the world far away, strangling her.

She grabbed his hand and held on tight.

“I’m not going to panic,” she told herself.

The death had spread to Vondh Rav.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Except…the heart. She could find the heart.

She had to. Because there was no one else. She was the only one who could help him now. If he wasn’t beyond help.

She shuddered. She couldn’t think of that. She had to assume that she could fix this, or the Panic would overtake her.

Her fingers curled around his. “I’m not going to panic,” she said again, and was surprised to find that she believed it.

She took slow breaths, holding tight to his hand. She focused on the warmth of his skin. The calluses beneath his fingers. The hard beds of his nails.

And the world slowly began to come back into focus.

She waited a long time before she dared let go of him, and even then her breath still came in shallow spurts and her heart still raced, but her thoughts were in order enough for her to move. She set her jaw, cloaked herself in cold resolve, and slid off the bed.

She cast glances back at him as she dressed. He never moved. She made herself turn away from him. She tied her boots tightly before slipping out the door and into the hall.

The moment she entered the hallway, she knew something was very wrong. Blaring silence pressed against her ears. The soft creak of the floorboards rang out in the absolute stillness.

She came to the end of the hallway, which opened into a balcony that overlooked the bar. Her blood ran cold.

Dark figures lay prostrate and limp across the room. The man behind the counter was curled up on the ground, as if he’d just lain down and gone to sleep. Customers, some still clutching their drinks, had laid their heads on their tables. A waitress had collapsed on the floor, leaving glasses and plates shattered in an arc around her hand. No one moved.

It was as if a poisonous vapor had swept through the place and silently dropped them all where they stood.

Novikke turned on her heel and went back to the room. She slipped on a jacket, strapped Zaiur’s sword onto her belt, then went to the bed.

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