Page 101 of Galen
“Are you crazy?” Clara asked. “You just said demons are swarming there. What makes you think the five of you can waltz in there, grab Simon and your brother, and leave in one piece? It’s a suicide mission.”
“And if we don’t go, they die,” Alastair said, tone hard. “We have no other choice.”
“In a one-on-one fight, we’re stronger than any of them,” I said, looking up as the moon came out from behind a cloud. It reminded me of the night I took Simon flying. He’d been so warm in my arms. They ached to hold him again. “Even outnumbered, the five of us will put up a good fight. But Clara’s right. If we go in as we are, some of us may not come out again.”
“Are you questioning my orders?” Alastair asked.
“No. I will always fight by your side, no matter the danger.” I looked at him, the weight of the decision I was about to make pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe. “We’ve been outnumbered before when Belphegor brought an army to Rome. And we won.”
A knowing look glinted in Alastair’s eyes. “Galen. No. I won’t allow it.”
“You’re not considering what I think you are…” Bellamy glared at me. Worry shone through them.
“Wrath tore through Belphegor’s army in the past,” I said, feeling a tugging on my insides as my sin awoke further. It was as if he sensed my willingness to set him free. “So much so that hundreds of them turned and fled at the mere sight of me.”
“No,” Alastair said again, grabbing my arm. “You nearly didn’t come back last time. We almost lost you. I won’t risk it.”
“It’s my decision,” I gently told him. “And I’ve made it.”
If it was the only way to save Simon… I’d do it.
No matter the cost.
Chapter Eighteen
Simon
My head felt like it had been struck by a hammer.
I cracked open my eyelids and winced at the sharp pain in my skull. Nausea bubbled in my gut, and my whole body ached. The air smelled musky but also damp. Almost like I was in some kind of cave. There was another smell too, though faint. Something burned nearby.
The floor beneath me was cool. Any other time it might’ve been miserable, but it actually felt nice against my heated skin.
“Hey, little mortal,” a scratchy voice said.
“Castor?” I fought the pain in my temple and focused on the figure to my left. Sconces were lit on the walls, giving off just enough light to see. Without my glasses, everything looked a little blurry though.
He was slumped against the wall, blood streaking down his arms, bare chest, and from a wound in his head. Dark patches of dried blood matted in his vibrant red hair. More blood streamed down his face. It looked like all his piercings had been ripped out: eyebrows, nose, and lip.
“What happened to you?” I asked, trying to go over to him. My leg tugged as it caught on something.
“Bastards chained us up,” Castor said, the chain around his ankle clanking as he moved his leg. “Fuck. I’m glad you’re not dead. They brought you in hours ago, and you were so still. Pale too. I couldn’t reach you.”
“I think they broke my glasses,” I said, reaching up to touch where they should’ve been.
“Looks like they broke something else too.”
My left hand throbbed, and I glanced down to see it wrapped. Sloppily wrapped anyway. Like whoever did it cared very little. Red bled through the bandage, and I stared at it, confused. I didn’t remember injuring myself. The last thing I recalled was being in Alastair’s study as Galen fought off shades. There had been a deep voice that spoke to me.
Wait.
The ring. I had put it on. Did I still wear it? I carefully undid some of the wrapping and peeled it back. What I saw made bile rise in my throat, and I lurched to the side to puke, no longer able to fight the nausea churning inside me.
My index finger had been chopped off. All that remained was a bloody stump.
“Simon?” The chain clanked again as Castor tried to come closer. “Hey. Talk to me.”
“They cut off my finger!” My hand throbbed again, and I dry heaved on the floor as there was nothing else in my stomach to puke up. God, I was a mess. “Why would they do that? Where the hell are we?” I glanced around the room through my fuzzy vision. There was one door. Our one escape route. I frantically yanked at the chain on my leg, my throat feeling like it was closing up. “We have to get out of here!”
