Page 18 of Unraveled
He steps away from me like I burned him. “I tried to stop the bleeding, but healing magic is not my calling.”
Heal me? Why would he want to heal me? Is this some sort of sick game? “If you’re not going to eat me, then why am I here?”
“Are you that eager to be devoured?”
“No.” My cheeks burn, and I know he doesn’t mean it as anything carnal. I’m not even sure why my mind went there.
“Then be thankful I don’t crave humans, Monster,” he says, and his eyes glow a little brighter.
I jump at the sound of a male clearing his throat. Finley—if I remember correctly—walks from behind the beast’s body and stops beside him, like they’re old friends inspecting an injured animal.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Finley says with a small smile, “but while this conversation is riveting, we don’t have time.”
I gape at the newcomer; he’s human. At least half a head shorter than the beast, Finley has a slender build and long, dark blond hair that falls in soft curls over his ears, blending almost seamlessly with the golden tone of his skin.
A conventionally attractive man. The kind of dangerous beauty Irene would fall head over heels for. Next to the massive winged beast, Finley looks like a harmless beacon of hope.
“She smells strongly of blood,” he says to the beast and looks down at my body. Not in a predatory way, but a clinical one. “Letme heal her, and you can talk later. That’s why you brought me here.”
I try to catch the coppery scent of blood, but I can’t move much, let alone smell whatever Finley is referring to. In the back of my mind, I know I should protest that it’s not the beast who gets to decide whether I’m healed by a stranger or not.
But why would I stop them from saving me? It’s the only way I’ll be able to escape.
During my time in the library, I studied the art of healing in the old grimoires. My wounds must be deep enough to risk an infection, and if I’m to travel back to Penumbra by foot, I need all my strength.
Finley kneels in front of me, holding a small leather case full of potions and bandages. He reaches for me, and I push back and away from his touch.
My heart hammers in my chest, and my mind whirls with what-ifs. Why am I alive, about to be healed by a magical human?
“I will not hurt you, Mia. Quite the contrary. If I don’t treat the lunargyre wounds, they will fester and you risk losing your arm.”
His words have the desired effect, and I sit still as he rolls up the tatters of my dress’s sleeves and begins cleaning the scrapes left behind by the beast’s teeth.
I hold my breath when he presses the first cotton swab to the gashes on my skin. It burns like alcohol but has a strange reddish tint. Like the light of the blood moon spilling in through the lancet windows.
“You seem to be taking this well,” Finley says, pointing at my bloodied arm. He is studying me like I’m a curiosity that needs to be unraveled.
“A cut to my skin is not new to me,” I say, but don’t elaborate. The scars on my body from my parents’ training spring to mind.They started teaching Irene and me to wield swords and daggers as soon as we entered our teen years. A way to defend ourselves from the beasts—or any trouble that may come.
“The lunargyres’ claws contain a poison that stops your blood from coagulating,” Finley says, and his brows pinch in the middle as he throws me an apologetic look. “It makes it very hard for your body to heal itself before you bleed to death, or infection takes you.”
“Great.” I close my eyes and try to push the pain back, but tears still streak down my face and my breath shakes. It’s hard not to scream as Finley scrapes deep into my wounds, wiping away anything that might remain from the creature’s claws. “What’s a lunargyre?”
Finley glances at the beast with a silent question that goes unanswered as he—Ash—walks over to a nearby bookshelf.
The Beast picks up a crystal bottle of amber liquid and pours some into a glass. Then he returns to the sofa where I sit. “A lunargyre is what we call the creatures affected by the sickness in this land.” He trails off, staring into the distance. “Some lunargyres are rabid all the time, like the one that attacked you. Some are lucid, but lose their minds at night during the blood moon.”
“But multiple beasts attacked me, not just one...”
“There are many types of beasts in the forest, and while I didn’t see what came before, I can tell you the one I took care of was a lunargyre. Many are bald, with humanlike bodies and red eyes.”
Like the one that killed my father. I swallow thickly, and the pain makes my throat shake. I won’t cry in front of them, not from pain...
When I thought they were going to kill me, it was easy to ignore the little details. Like the fact that Ahs’s wearing an elegant black coat, neatly embellished with golden thread.He’s covered in black feathers of different sizes. And there is something magical about his eyes; even the darkness of his lashes appears deeper than the shadows of the room.
The beast looks a lot less like a lunargyre and more like something from old scriptures. Like an ancient being designed by the gods with a beautiful human face and a tragic story.
He doesn’t meet my gaze as he extends the drink toward me. “This will help with the pain.”
