Page 116 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Awful curiosity plagues me. “What…what did you do to him?”

Castor dips his face, draws his hands from his robes, and pushes the curtain of his hair back. Softly, he says, “I did not do anything to him, Razah.”

When I swallow, it’s sharp. “Why…not?”

“Because, sweet girl,” Castor murmurs, “he was doing enough to himself.”

Tears threaten. “Is he… Aretheyokay? Did you see my mother?”

“They are alive.”

“You know what a human means when they ask if someone isokay, Castor.” I choke on my air. “Please, don’t complicate this.”

“Unfortunately, Razah, life is complicated. How do you want me to answer your question? I have already alluded to the fact your father is doing poorly. Are you interested in details of his suffering? Or…does something inside you want me to clarify that, somehow, what I’ve said already doesn’t mean what it sounds like and that they are doing better than they deserve?”

Icy sensations wash over me as I squeeze my arm, close my eyes, and try to dissect his question. Emotions swirl, messy, and I don’t know what to do with them or how to read them.

A good Christian would want the latter. A good Christian would concede to a revelation that they don’tactuallywish harm on anyone, not even their greatest enemies.

Sir…

I don’t think I’m a very good Christian.

“Is he really suffering so much that you didnothing, or are you not so invested in avenging anyone other than yourself?”

Castor reaches for me, and my muscles constrict, but all he does is pry my nails out of my arm, letting me crush his hand instead. “Your father reeks of death. Everything inside him is a bog of festering cessation. He spends his days drowning in whatever might distract him from the inevitable. His heart beats, but his mind is vacant and destroyed, steeping in false ideas as it rots. There is little I could do that he would register as anything of consequence. He is too far gone for torture to be anything different from his daily affairs.”

I feel…sick.

When my knees give way, Castor helps me to the couch and sits beside me. He remains during a long quiet as my thoughts rampage.

The tears I’ve fought overflow.

I whisper, “My mother…?”

“She retains life, but lives joylessly. Her confusion, guilt, and feelings of abandonment follow her in every moment. She does not know what she keeps doing wrong, what she ever did to deserve the lot she has. Sincerely, that household is void of hope.” Castor squeezes my hand in return, murmuring, “Truly…it was a nostalgic experience.”

For both of us, I guess.Devoid of hopeis exactly what I remember growing up with.

“Can you…help them?” I ask as my body feels like it’s caving in on itself.

“I’m sorry.” Carefully, Castor wraps one arm around my shoulders in an awkward hug. “I am an omen of unhelpful things. I bring death and chaos in my wake.”

“Could I help them, if I were fully fae and found someone willing to share abilities that could save them with me?”

“Child…” Castor murmurs, freeing my hand and using hissleeve to dry my face. “It is not your responsibility to face them ever again.”

“But, I have to do something.”

“You don’t.”

“But—”

“I understand our beliefs clash. You aspire to live selflessly. I hold too much spite to care about such things. But, listen to me, you believe in armies that rise up at your request. You believe in forces that far exceed the powers of the fae. You believe in a different Father than the one who tainted your home. Do you believe, after everything, that Father would ask you to return to these specific front lines? Or…is there a chance…all He expects of you is to give this to Him and let his armies take care of it?”

Sniffling, I bite my cheek and battle for breath. “You make a horrible evil prince, Castor.”

He smiles. “I do prefer to think of myself as avillainover anevil prince, Razah. Only some definitions of villain would claim me as evil. Most suggest I merely stand in opposition to a hero. And we are on the same side, are we not?”

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