Page 64 of Reap the Night
His breath teased the top of my head. “Sleep now, kitten.”
He hadn’t called me that in ages. I’d missed it.
I stifled a yawn and closed my eyes.
When I opened them next, the candle had burned down almost to the wick. Shadows crawled across the chamber, and the cell beyond was in complete darkness.
The sensation that I was being watched tightened my scalp. I peered into the depth of the cell.
The bed was empty.
Where was Ezekiel?
There, in the corner with his back pressed to the wall.
“Ezekiel?”
“Hush,” he whispered. “We don’t want to wake them.”
I slipped from beneath Hemlock’s arm and off the bed, then crawled toward the cell, stopping out of arm’s reach of the bars. “Ezekiel, it’s me Orina. Come closer.”
“Don’t.” His voice trembled. “If they hear you and wake…I can’t stop them. I can’t save you.”
He thought I was Arabella. Maybe if I pretended to be… “It’s not your fault. I’m all right.”
“No. No you’re not. Thisismy fault. You’re here because of me, and I can’t protect you.” He began to sob, a soft heart-wrenching sound that made my stomach hurt because this was Ezekiel, the big bad vampire king who felt nothing and now…Now he was curled up in a ball, sobbing his heart out.
I wanted to hold him, to comfort him. I shuffled closer. “Ezekiel. Please, don’t cry, don’t?—”
He lunged for the bars, eyes bright gold in the gloom, and I was whipped out of harm’s way before he could grab me.
“Bitch!” He gripped the bars and snarled. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.” He shook his head. “No. No, no, no. Take me! Leave her alone! You take me!” His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious once more.
I clung to Hemlock, panic pulsing through my veins.
He exhaled heavily. “And this is why you won’t be left alone with him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know, Orina. I know.” He led me back to the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll watch over him.”
But sleep was a long time coming.
The next twodays passed quickly. I helped chase a couple of leads on the van based off the partial plate we’d given Kaster before heading back to the chapter house to wait for Godor to come get me and take me to Branwood.
The bat boy was subdued each time, not willing to be drawn into conversation. I figured that his master’s predicament was causing him distress and didn’t press, which gave me time to observe, and maybe it was my imagination, but Godor looked different. His stature, his wingspan, his hands…I was sure he’d only had three fingers and a thumb, but now there were four…I had to be mistaken. The stress of, well, everything was enough to muddle anyone’s mind.
Then there was Kaster to worry about.
I hated not being able to tell him the truth. Making excuses not to see him felt wrong, but Ezekiel had to come first. I dropped him several texts, though, promising to see him soon.
At Branwood, each night was an awful glimpse into Ezekiel’s ordeal, into the vault of his mind that should have remained locked. I walked the halls of the castle between his episodes, finding myself outside the door to his quarters a couple of times hoping to speak to Leo the door knocker to lighten my mood, but he was silent and non-responsive each time.
So back to the safe room I’d go. Into sleep and into Ezekiel’s nightmare.
The torture by flame had me thrashing and choking on the smoke and stench of Ezekiel’s burning flesh as I experienced his agony that died only once his nerves had been burned away, leaving him sizzling as he cooked. She’d heal him and then begin anew.
Fresh fire.
