Page 19 of Fated to Monsters

“The last thing I remember was we were in a big room.” I avert my gaze to attempt to recall the memory. “There was a fireplace. And I was listening to everyone talk.” I glance at Wren. “Is this right?”

She nods.

“I can’t really remember what they were saying. But I got hot, real hot, real fast. And woozy. I thought I was going to throw up. And then I fell.” I place my hand on my forehead where a bandage covers the spot that must have made impact.

A breeze from the open window licks at my cheeks.

“Damn, that feels good.” I kick my legs over the edge of the bed and stand.

Wren grips one arm while Bo holds the other.

“I’m not going to fall. I’m fine.”

“Better safe than sorry.” Wren doesn’t let me go until I’m leaning on the windowsill.

“What happened after that?” Bo presses his shoulder into the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I had this terrible nightmare. I was being tortured.” I reach toward my back and replay the anguish. But when I touch a spot, it actuallyfeelstender. “Uh, will one of you do me a favor?”

“What is it?” Wren comes back over with a glass of water in her grasp.

I drag my shirt up my back and turn toward them. “Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”

Wren sucks in a breath. “Angels.” She extends her hand but doesn’t touch me.

An indicator that my hunch was correct.

“How is that possible?” Bo asks us.

“What does it look like?” I ask them.

“Like someone just got done beating you senseless.” Bo steps forward.

Wren adds, “Your scars. They’re not open wounds, but they’re red and swollen. Not all of them. But quite a few. Like they’re fresh. Do they hurt?”

“No,” I lie. “They’re sore.” I let my shirt fall over them and turn around to sit near the window again.

That nightmare didn’t feel like a nightmare. It was more like a memory. But a memory that I don’t have. And a memory that could somehow hurt me. None of that makes sense.

“Anyway,” I say. “What did I miss?” Because I would do anything to change the subject and escape from the sad and pitiful stares they’re giving me right now.

“Dash…” Wren places her hand on my shoulder.

I bring it to my face and kiss the soft flesh before putting my hand over it. “We have more important things to deal with than my mystery scars. We’re in a different realm. In someone else’s house. And traveling with a potential asshole.”

Wren sighs. “Bo isn’t just apotentialasshole.”

“Hey, now, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me all day.” Bo continues to lean against the wall.

Wren rolls her eyes. "Sydney was about to tell us what Tremont had done when you face-planted into the table. Bo carried you up here, and we've been at your side ever since. Sydney left. He said he was going to get some rock to see if you had aglitch, whatever that means. But we have no way of contacting him to let him know you’re awake. Tremont is confined to his room, and the rest of our group is downstairs giving us some space. That pretty much catches you up to where we are now.”

“How long was I out?”

"A half hour or so." Wren glances at Bo, who nods stiffly.

I lower my voice. “And we still don’t know what he did?”

She shakes her head. “Something bad enough that Sydney hates him for it.”

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