Chapter 16 - Wings of Lies

Unearthly beauty reeled me in like a sucking black hole. Her hair was the color of a starless night, flowing in long waves down her tight, black bodice. She was regal. Her ebony eyes had scarlet rings and were washed with a purple film.

It was another dream-walk, similar to the one of my mom and—I gritted my teeth remembering bits and pieces of that man. I didn’t invade any bodies. Here, without vertigo, my skinny body was my own. A big difference from my last dream-walk, where I was toned, my breasts weren’t pancakes, a strange guy helped warm me, and my mom confessed to⁠—

“The infamous Saraqael is summoning me?” I jerked back. Saraqael? That was my mom’s name. “What would your precious angel say about this?” She smiled. But there was nothing friendly about it.

“How is it done?”

I peeked around a large pillar and found my mom on the other side of a circle of prominent red symbols. Her body shimmered with a pure white light. Glory.

They were opposites. One dark and sinful, the other light and pure.

“How is what done?” The dark one asked, intrigued. She prowled inside the symbols. Mulberry lips tilted in a predatory smile.

“Children.”

The dark woman laughed, filling the air with a lilting melody. “Saraqael, you can’t have children. You know that.”

“I heard different.” She paused. “And I heard you’ve helped others.”

Swirling black silk grazed the white slippers of my mom’s feet. Long-painted nails attempted to reach for her chin, but the dark woman couldn’t breach the circle of symbols. “Did you now? And did these others happen to have names or locations?” Danger edged her questioning tone.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Shouldn’t you know who you’ve helped?”

Her lips twisted. “I’ve helped many. But your kind? Very few. And none have proven to be successful. Or so I’ve been told.” Her fake smile dropped.

My mom kept quiet.

“You want to know how to have a child. You will give me their name. And do not lie to me, for I know your other half would never allow you to associate with the likes of us, and I wouldn’t want him finding out,” she said sweetly, sounding like she wouldn’t care one bit if he found out.

The light on my mom’s skin guttered. “Miriam,” she whispered.

A genuine smile spread on the dark woman’s face. “Very unexpected of you, Saraqael. Twice today. First summoning me and second, giving up the name so easily.” Black silk swirled, trailing the circle of glistening writing. “But a deal is a deal. Although, I’m not sure you’ll ever have a child. And not because it is still difficult with my methods. But because you and whoever the father will be will need to tangle with a lot of dark energy,” she tittered. “That purist you’re with would send you to hell himself before doing that. You could see my husband.”

My mom lifted her head, determination in her stiff shoulders. “Tell me.”

Purple light flashed, and my eyes opened.

I was born. My mom was an Archangel, and she found a way to have me with the help of the creepy, dark woman. Did that make me the first-born angel in existence? Was that why I had Glory, and they took me? All these questions made my head hurt.

I surveyed my surroundings, trying to block the blue moonlight streaming in, which was making my headache worse. The moonlight shed its light onto a small minimalist room. A table to my right held a flickering candle lamp and a bowl of pink water with a washcloth. The walls were plain with no adornment, no extra furniture but the cream bed and side table.

I pushed myself into a sitting position and gasped. My sides burned, and my legs throbbed with the slightest twitch. Pushing past the pain, I pulled the quilt down. A loose shirt pulled up to my breasts showed a bandage wrapped tightly around my ribs. Lower yet, two tight bandages circled my thighs, painfully so. Tempted to unwind them, I fingered the edge of the gauze. It was sticky?

A substance oozed from the corners. I rubbed it on the pad of my fingers. Was that—I sniffed it. Honey?

More curious than ever, I unwound the gauze at my ribs, then stopped and stared at my wrists. How I didn’t notice before was beyond me, but my cuffs were gone. My wrist and finger splint were not. Or they had been rewrapped.

Continuing my unraveling, the gauze turned pink, darkening with each pull.

“Stop—” I jerked at Aspen’s voice, covering myself. “Your wounds need to stay tightly bound!” he snapped, almost sounding panicked.

He stood in the open doorway, tense. I was so immersed in my head that I forgot about him and the others. But, of course, they were still close by.

“Where am I?” I rasped, throat dry.

He glared at my hidden ribs. His cloak appeared fresh compared to the splattered green gunk of his leathers. The candlelight flickered across the sculpted muscle of his tensing arms. Blushing, I clamped down on my cheeks and turned my face away.

“We brought you to a healer named Hana.” He waited for that to sink in and continued. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. We didn’t think you were going to make it at first. But Hana’s one of the best healers around. She worked tirelessly on you, and you’re undermining all the effort we put into saving your damned life!” he spat, drilling holes into my partially unwrapped sides.

I could hear the respect he had for her in his voice. Who knew he respected anyone, as big of an asshole as he was.

“What are you staring at? Rewrap your damned wounds!”

His demanding, arrogant tone grated on me. Perhaps I should unwrap the rest of my ribs and stuff the bloody cloth into his mouth.

Unfortunately, I listened to his forceful words, but not without taking my unnamed frustration out on him. “Have you ever thought about a gag?”

Nonplussed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he raised a skeptical brow.

Oh, he wasn’t going to like this. I held back my anticipatory smile. “You know, to keep the condescending shit from spilling out of your mouth.”

His eyes darkened. I threw him one of those smug smirks he’d given me the last few days. It dropped when he didn’t react. I guess the smirk didn’t affect him like it did me.

“Once Hana gives the go-ahead, we’ll be back on our way to give you to our queen,” he said point-blank.

“Your queen, as in your mother?”

Something strange flashed through his eyes—like confusion mixed with horror. But it tightened his face for less than a second before a soft red light flashed beneath his chin, and his cold mask eradicated the emotions.

What was that light?

Unable to sit in silence as he scrutinized me, I snarked, “You’re finally giving me answers?”

“Figured I’d gift you a small slice for not dying on us.”

I huffed. “Oh, right. Because dealing with my dead carcass would be a hindrance.”

“You’re more important to her alive than dead. For—” He stopped himself.

Did he really think I was that stupid?

“For now? Your queen, mother, whoever the hell she is,” I was getting worked up. “Wants me alive, for now.”

He didn’t confirm or deny, but his silence answered for him.

My head dropped back against the headboard, defeated and tired.

The prince walked into the room, white knuckling the hilt of his sword. “Maybe you should’ve listened to me,” he barked, branding me with his glare and his hot, apple-scented breath. Inching away wasn’t an option, so I had to live in his angry proximity.

“This again?” The fabric in my hands scrunched in my fists. “Why the hell would I listen to you?” I scoffed. “You just admitted that my life was only as valuable as whatever I could provide to your wretched queen.” My head thrust forward in cadence to the last two words, ignoring the tug on my stitches, just in case he didn’t hear the vehemence in my tone.

His grip tightened on his sword as the muscle in his jaw pulsed. He didn’t like me insulting his sovereign, but too bad.

“I’m not going to your vile queen. I want nothing to do with you and your pack of whatever Cacus and Bael are.” The throbbing in my side intensified, forcing me to sit back with a grimace. It was proof that my words were more bark than bite. If I couldn’t even sit up without support, there was no way I was getting away from them.

Quietly, he stared, watching me with an intensity that made me squirm. The blues of his eyes forced me to hold my ground even though I wanted to look down.

“Demons.” He voiced at last.

“What?”

Crossing his arms, he tilted his head to the side. “Cacus and Bael are Cambion demons. They explode on the brink of death, killing anyone near them.” There was another stilted pause as he waited for my reaction.

“Cambion…” I trailed off, my mind going a mile a minute. It wasn’t a stretch to think those two hulking beasts were demons, but I never thought—I shook my head—no wonder the Hellhounds wouldn’t approach them. Fighting the demons was tantamount to suicide.

“You didn’t know,” he laughed with disbelief. “What do you know about Elora?”

Glaring, I bit into my cheeks. There was such arrogance in his tone, like he knew what my answer would be and couldn’t wait to rub it in my face. If he continued like this, I’d either end up chewing through my flesh, gagging him myself, or worse, I’d dissolve this quilt.

But he was right, and that had me tasting copper.

I was brought to a world I knew barely anything about, with someone I just met, all because some voice in my head told me to.

And look where I was now.

I would not answer his question. Giving him that satisfaction would end me, even though my silence would condemn me.

Aspen grunted, looking at me with disbelief. “Your ignorance is going to get you killed.” His words were salt in an open wound.

“Excuse me?” My nostrils flared.

His next grunt nearly tripped the strings of the melody that lurked beneath my rage.

“Who in their right mind would come to a world they know nothing about?” he seethed, the muscle in the back of his jaw throbbing.

“Why does what I do or don’t know even matter to you?” I spat back, feeling itchy.

He stepped forward, knees hitting the bed’s wooden frame, towering over me. My back straightened in response, trying to look strong and not wounded and slumped against the pillows. But I could only do so much as my stitches pulled with my movements.

“What the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you stay on Earth? Elora is dangerous! It isn’t a place for a senseless, wimpy female.” There was so much angry disbelief in his tone that I bristled.

Stretching further against my stitches, wishing I could stand, I attempted to look intimidating. “I am not senseless or wimpy!”

“Your actions speak otherwise.” He glared.

My anger simmered. I lifted my chin, forcing us nose-to-nose. “If you bring me to your wretched queen, I will gladly burn her face off.”

Blue flame flashed in his irises, and the light under his chin flickered. A half-smirk pulled at my lips, happy to have hit a nerve.

“Listen to you,” he whispered with a deadly tone. “Spewing this arrogance around creatures you know nothing about. You don’t even have the skills necessary to save yourself, which you proved by barely surviving a Hellhound attack. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me and my queen. You know nothing of this world. You know nothing of your powers. You are an ignorant, untrained, senseless, helpless female.” The force of his heartless words hit my face. They were brutal, needling at my insecurities.

I pulled my legs off the bed, making myself sit up and forcing him back a step. Water pooled in the corner of my eyes from the pain, but I wasn’t about to let him get away with what he said. It hit too deep, and the itch wouldn’t let me.

“At least I’m not a bitch’s bitch.”

Blue and red light erupted, and metal ripped free. A flaming sword came toward my neck, but before it reached me, stabbing pain erupted through my body, and the sword clattered to the ground. He came at me.

“What are you⁠—”

He tackled and swaddled me in his heavy cloak. Unlike my disintegrated clothes, the cloak withstood the white and purple flames on my skin.

“Get off of me!” I yanked the cloak off my flameless face.

“Hana did a lot for you. The least you could do is not burn down her house,” he yelled back. This considerate act wasn’t for me but for Hana. And based on the indignation that replaced the flames in his eyes, he hated that he had to help me.

No longer wanting to meet his gaze, I glared at the hands that touched me. Too bad I couldn’t burn things with my eyes. Maybe then he’d let me go. Not that the leather on his arms needed any more holes or tears. The Hellhounds had scored gouges into his uniform, and when I tilted my head just right, light gleamed on blood beneath the shredded folds. The wounds were shiny slivers, almost healed. He acted and fought against the Hellhounds, and I just hid like an untrained, senseless, helpless female.

The words were like a poison, repeating an endless cycle in my mind. Only the more I heard it, the less it sounded like the mocking tone of my princely jailor. There was someone else who used to call me a helpless little wimp, but I couldn’t remember who.

Shame and anger colored my face, fueling my flame. The cloak had a threshold of how much power it could withstand as a shimmer of dark violet leaked through the seams. The white slowly dimmed along with my fear. But calming the rage wasn’t working with Aspen’s swaddling. It practically proved his point. His seething gaze only made it worse.

“Leave,” I said, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding almost concerned. He had to be mocking me.

“I said leave!” I screamed, purple flame spiking through the material.

Holding in a gasp of pain, I rolled onto my side, forcing his hands off me. The bed moved under his weight, and his sword scraped against the floor and slid back into its sheath. Once he shut the door, I let out the strangled gasp. The physical pain was just as bad as the emotional pain. Tears fell without the audience, rolling down the side of my cheek and over my nose, soothing the haunting melody and itch. My purple flames dimmed beneath the cloak, sinking back to where they came.

I shifted, thinking it’d help the painful heartbeat in my sides. With my clothing burned to nothing, the sticky honey slid against the heavy fabric of the prince’s cloak. The throbbing worsened.

My fingers lifted the fabric, and I winced. It was stuck, possibly to the honey. Taking a deep breath, cringing, I jerked it off like a band-aid.

Blood seeped down my ribs and around my back.

The fabric had slowed the bleeding, but now my open wounds were exposed. My stomach turned.

“Shit,” I said. Not only were my cuts freely bleeding down my side, but I had to find help, and I was naked.

I searched the room for something to wrap around my wounds, finding no extra supplies. What kind of healer didn’t have extra supplies? Muffling my cry, I swung my legs off the bed. My hands pressed into my sides, trying to stop the bleeding. It barely helped, but it was better than nothing. My legs, though—there was nothing I could do for them. They throbbed with the same fiery pain my sides did and bled.

Working up the courage, I stood. The floor swirled before I gained my bearings and shuffled toward the door. Trickles of blood slid down the backs of my thighs. With slick fingers, it took two tries before the knob turned, and he was already there.

“Aspen?” I whispered, voice hitching. A sudden chill overwhelmed my body, and my knees buckled.

Without a word, he had me in his arms. My sides burned as he jostled me. I hadn’t expected him to pick me up but was grateful even if it was agonizing, and the room swirled.

“Hana!” he called, laying me in bed.

“Why didn’t you say something immediately?” he demanded, touching the opening of the cloak.

“I didn’t know.” I rested my head back against the soft pillow, my mind loopy.

What was he doing?

“Hey!” My vision blinked out, then back in, and my cloak opened. I was bare in front of him. “Stop!” Anxiety seized me as I felt pressure. I slapped his hands and whatever he was doing to me.

“Lucille, you’re bleeding out. I’m trying to help. Please.” The glacial hard tone he usually used melted into something soft and resigned.

He knew my name. How? And why was he looking at me like that?

Two beautiful mountain lakes glistened at me with concern—not hate, not the arrogant sneer or cold mask he wore, but genuine concern, like he had a heart.

I was hallucinating.

Stunned and dizzy, wanting Aspen to stop vanishing behind a black cloud, I stopped slapping him.

At one moment of clarity, I wondered if he sneaked a peek at my pebbled breasts.

“You’re hurting my sides,” I said weakly. “And my legs hurt, Aspen. They hurt so much,” I cried. Why did I keep saying his name? “I hate his name.”

“Whose name?”

“Your name. It’s nice. But you’re an ass. You shouldn’t have your name.”

Did I say that out loud?

“Hana!” Aspen’s voice had to have carried through the whole house. The sword at his hip flashed along with his distorted eyes.

Down the hall, footsteps pattered. A lady barged into the room, frantic, holding a black bag. “What? I was stitching another patient. What’s wrong?”

My muddled brain decided to hallucinate green skin onto the lady and shrink her down to the size of a dwarf. Odd.

Aspen stood as she entered. “She’s bleeding out. Help her.” Long gone was the male with melted seas of worry, replaced by the authority of a commanding prince. The arrogant asshole was back. I snorted to myself.

“How? She was finally stable!” Hana exclaimed, astonished, ignoring his tone. She lifted something from my sides, gazing at my open wounds. Quickly, she set down her black bag and grabbed supplies. “This is going to hurt. Deep breaths, okay?” Tender ruby eyes nodded down to my torso.

“Okay.”

“And I need you to drink this. It’s a coagulant serum. It will counteract the rest of the Hellhound’s saliva.” She held a vial to my lips, and I let her tip the bitter liquid into my mouth.

“How did this happen? And why didn’t you get me the moment she woke up? Did you want her to bleed to death after nearly biting my head off to save her?” Hana did not sound happy—more like downright pissed off.

I giggled. Aspen was getting scolded.

My thoughts turned disjointed as everything blurred together. I squeezed my eyes shut, relieved by the lack of weirdness. Their words became softer.

“I don’t know. We were talking. I got distracted.” He paused. “I said some things and her powers did the rest.”

He said a lot of things.

“You never thought about the stitches, bandages, or serum.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.”

Was that regret in his tone?

Hana huffed. “Well, hopefully, her accelerated healing can replenish what she’s lost. The serum should help soon, too,” she sighed. “Does she know?”

My sides burned as Hana poured something into each slice along my ribs, then turned me with Aspen’s help to do the same to my thighs. They moved me back, and I lay limp and barely conscious. I could feel my body twitch in pain, but my eyes never opened, only aware enough to hear the fading tones of their conversation.

“No,” he said, frustrated. “She knows nothing about Elora either. Why would she come here?” He stomped back and forth. “Why doesn’t she remember? Why didn’t she fucking listen to me?”

“Did you ever think of asking her?” Hana supplied.

He scoffed, “Why would I do that? Her memories are gone.”

“Maybe to help her?”

There was a long pause before he answered. “Hana, I think you need to stop drinking the earthly wine. It’s obviously messed with your mind.” He sighed, a sound I never heard from him before. “She’s here now. Magda said…”

“She’s a witch who plays with emotions for power. Her words can mean many things.”

“True.”

“Will you tell her? Help her?”

He laughed, a bitter, ruthless sound. “No. The queen will either use her or lose her, like all the others.”

“Always so loyal.”

Aspen gave another bitter laugh. “Either loyalty or death.”

“Or taking my advice from before. Get out. Find a different life. Let her⁠—”

“Stop! I won’t listen to your pointless advice. It’s too late. I will never betray my queen,” Aspen declared.

“So she’ll be another Nalini?” she whispered.

My ears started to ring with how quiet it became.

“Don’t ever speak her name to me again.” The door opened, then slammed.

“Oh, Aspen, what did she turn you into?” Hana whispered sadly to herself while her soft fingers applied pressure on my wounds. I let myself drift off, wondering about which she Hana was talking about.