Page 66 of Angel in Absentia
“You can’t touch me,” she warned, trying to make it sound like a threat when instead it sounded like a note of relief.
“Right now, it’s enough to see what just my words can do,” he breathed back, lifting his other hand to her face, the sharpness on the ends of his finger replaced by a metallic coat that mirrored the shape of his hands. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, moving it behind her temple as he watched her eyes with an otherworldly softness. “Patience,” he cooed. As if at last consenting to some secret request she was making, hecontinued, “You’ve rushed it from the start, but I’ll ensure the torture of your transformation will be slow.”
Slowly, he pulled away from her and walked out, leaving her in the silence, her heart pounding. Several minutes passed as she gathered herself, collecting pieces it had taken him only minutes to shatter. It was harder to gather up her resistance than she had anticipated, harder to be angry, to reject the ideas he seemed to seamlessly inject into her mind.
Horrified at the state he’d left her in, she took a deep breath and whispered to herself in declaration, “I’ve got to get out of here.”
She waited in the silence, determined and patient, listening to the silent halls until she was certain Ryson would not return again. Granted, it wasn’t like she’d heard him the first time.
“Prince,” she whispered again. “Prince, are you still there? Can you come back please?”
Silence.
“Prince, please. I need you,” she urged.
Another moment passed, and she saw the mask appear murkily in the corner of the room.
“It’s okay,” she reassured him, though it felt strange to do so. He inched closer again. Trying not to sound too rushed, she asked the question she’d been itching to ask him. Truthful or not, she knew he could be useful.
“Prince. Your vice is death? Bodies? You can’t quite resist them, can you? Are vices truly so irresistible?” she urged.
Truly, Prince replied,though often their strength parallels our power. It’s the price we pay for power.
“You miss it, right?” she said slowly. “Having a body.”
Prince hesitated, but the mask became less translucent and more concrete, inching toward her. His masked face dipped slightly, a ghostly nod.
Clea’s mind raced.
“After I die,” she said, heart hammering, “you can have mine. If you help me escape now.”
The silence between them snapped taut as the air cooled and seemed suddenly electrified with cien. Then, slow and sinuous, Prince floated closer.
Yes?
“Yes,” Clea said. “Wait. The condition is that you can’t have anything to do with my death. I don’t want you to try and instigate killing me to get a body out of it.”
I wouldn’t dream of it.
She highly doubted that.
I’ve never been offered one before from a living person, he said.
“And doesn’t that make it more special?” she offered hopefully.
A moment later, her shackles dissolved.
She rubbed her wrists, exhaling shakily. That was a lot easier than she was expecting. Now, she had to think through how to navigate the castle without being sensed by Venennin.
She inspected Prince carefully. It was yet another mad idea, but she was convinced by now she was in the realm of madness and was ready to try anything.
“Prince,” she said with a lilt. “Can I try something?”
The mask nodded. Carefully, she reached for the mask, pulled it forward, and then slowly moved it over her face.
His misty form collapsed, swirling over her skin like smoke. She held her breath as cold flooded her veins, making her stagger.
She inspected her hands. It felt like wearing a cool cloak.
