Page 104 of Drawn in Blood
He tried not to think about her, but he couldn’t help it when he was here. She had only lived in this home—been on this island—for a little over a year, but it somehow felt like a lifetime. He half expected to see her curled up in the library, a book in hand and Maia at her feet as the sky burned ruby out the window, warming her hair and skin as it shown in through the room. He hated himself for checking every time he walked up the stairs just in case she had slipped in without anyone knowing, just in case she had escaped. He knew it was foolish—knew she wasn’t there.
But he checked anyway.
“I think we’re in business!” Fen said, as he clapped his hands, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face.
Killian hopped off the bed, pulling another chair over to Fen’s desk. “And you’re sure it’ll work?” he asked, as he slipped the earring into his piercing. Luckily, it had never healed completely—his father made sure of that.
“It should.” Fen nodded. He swiped up on the screen of his phone and pressed the app. It lit up the blue and green. “We should be able to record a message here, and it’ll connect with her earrings. If I programmed everything correctly—and I absolutely did—" he waggled his eyebrows, “she’ll get the message just like she would a phone call or listening to music.”
Killian nodded as he took a breath. “So, let’s do this then.” He didn’t know why he was nervous, but he couldn’t shake the tremble in his hands.
“Well, there’s a catch,” Fen replied.
Killian groaned as he leaned back in the chair.
“She has to actually have the earrings on when we send the message. It won’t record for her to listen to later. It sends like a verbal text message and then disappears. She can’t answer us. She can only listen.”
Killian nodded his head, his chest shaking. “Let’s give it a try then.”
Fen nodded and then clicked the button on his phone.
“Starshine, can you hear me?” He groaned internally—even if she could, she couldn’t answer. “Just hold tight. Fen and I are figuring out a way to come get you.” It was a piss-poor message and not half of what he wanted—needed—to say, but it was the best he could do for now.
Fen clicked the ‘send’ button, but nothing happened. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he grimaced.
“What happened?” Killian asked.
“It must be the wards,” Fen replied. “They’re too strong, so the magic can’t break past them. She’ll probably have to be really close to them, like almost touching them, for it to work.”
Killian grit his teeth. Whatever magic Helvig had, it was different than Vala magic—stronger.
“So, we’ll try again,” Killian replied. “We’ll keep trying until it works.” He hadn’t come this far to just give up now.
“I don’t think that will?—"
“We’ll try again,” Killian cut him off, and Fen had the good sense not to argue.
Killian recorded the message again and again, different lengths and different words but all the same message—don’t give up. Fen’s phone screen didn’t so much as flicker. Nothingwas getting through those wards, and she was too far for it to work, even if she did have those earrings on. Fen brought their supper upstairs, and they ate in silence, each boy lost in their own thoughts. The sun had already set outside, the moon shining through the window and illuminating the walls. Killian was tired, but in a way that sleep could never fix. He was losing hope—and he hated himself for it.
Fen yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah.” Killian nodded, trying not to let the defeat sink in. “Yeah, we can try again tomorrow.”
He saw himself out, making his way home as slowly as possible. Ember was strong, he didn’t doubt she would be okay, but he couldn’t ignore the way the wolf inside of him clawed at his skin—at his bones.
“Find her,”it seemed to say, leaving his chest tight and lungs heavy. He had learned to control the wolf a long time ago, but his grip on its leash seemed to be waning, and he was having a hard time caring if he was in control or not.
Killian leanedagainst the vanity in his bathroom, blood dripping from his lip, nose, and brow onto the white marble. He cursed under his breath as he examined himself in the mirror.
“Feckin’ hell,” he mumbled, wincing as he touched his nose. It was broken—again. And while he wasn’t at all surprised, he was incredibly annoyed. He closed his eyes as he took a shuddering breath, his stomach rolling as he thought about the way his uncle's fist had connected with his jaw and then againwith his nose and his brow. His eye was already turning purple, but he couldn’t find the will to bother trying to cover it.
He bit down on his lip as he felt his nose crack, popping it back into place like he had done dozens of times before. He could’ve gone to Isra, who would’ve discreetly made him whole again, but there was something about forcing his parents to see him like this that made him stand a little taller. His mum would see what she was allowing, would not be allowed the excuse of saying she didn’t know.
His phone buzzed as he wiped the last of the blood from his brow, a text popping up on the screen.
Supper in ten.
Killian didn’t have to be told twice. He quickly changed shirts and made his way out of the manor and toward the Kitts’.
