The behemoth straightened, wrenching back his arm and punching Fiona in the temple. The blow dazed her, and she stumbled back into the wall, her head throbbing. She didn’t know which way was up or down, but she had a vague sense that he was gripping her arms again.
“Don’t know what you’re so shy about.” She was seeing two of him now—two shiny red mouths with grimacing smiles. “That dress will come off later tonight at the ritual.” He gripped her hair in one hand, pulling her head to the side, and she felt another wave of revulsion as a slimy tongue ran up her neck. She shoved him off with a grunt, trying to get her bearings.
The two smaller guards hoisted Tobias into the cell, tossing him against a wall. He landed on his side, nearly smacking his head against the stone floor. The behemoth locked the cell door behind him, and with one last rosy-lipped grin, he lifted the keys to jangle them before lumbering away.
Tobias’s hands remained shackled, but he sat upright, leaning against the wall. With the dust still coating his skin, he must be in agony. But he wasn’t really Tobias anymore, from what she’d seen. She rubbed her throbbing temple. He deserves this pain for a while longer.
He stared at her and swallowed, clearly trying to master the pain. “Fiona. Are you okay? I couldn’t stop them.”
She didn’t even try to mask the fury in her tone. “I’m fine.”
“The red dust—”
Pain lanced her head. “That’s not why I’m mad. You know that.”
He closed his eyes, swallowing. “Is Mariana okay?”
“She’s breathing, but unconscious.” Her throat tightened. “And she could be out of here right now if you hadn’t thrown your supernatural temper tantrum.”
“Someone had to kill Jack,” he rasped.
“A little more discretion would have been nice,” she snarled. “Maybe then the rest of us could have escaped imprisonment.” She paced in the cell while Tobias kept his eyes closed, trying to maintain his composure though pain must have racked his body. “What are you? What happened to you?”
A shaking breath. “How did you get the dust off your skin?”
Her blood boiled. “Answer my question. What are you? Are you still human? Are you a demon?” The floor was cold and sludgy under her bare feet.
Silence, and then a long sigh. “I went to Jack’s apartment. I was trying to kill him.” He opened his eyes, the dark irises glistening with pain. “He wasn’t there, and a group of Harvesters cornered me. But I found an athame, and I used it to give myself more power.”
“What are you talking about? What’s an athame?” She pivoted again, pacing the other way. Her fingers tightened into fists. “Why haven’t you told me about any of this?”
“It belongs to the goddess Emerazel. Goddess of fire. We’re linked now. She stokes my magic.”
Her heart stopped. “Like Jack is linked to Druloch. You’re like Jack, now.”
A short laugh. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“So that’s your excuse?” She turned again, pacing the narrow cell. “What else haven’t you told me? What were you doing that night—when I saw you by the fire?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I conjured a succubus. It was the art teacher I killed. I sent her after Jack, so I could weaken him and kill him. But Jack came here instead. He wanted you.” He was trembling now from the scorching dust. “I didn’t want you involved anymore. Not after what happened in Maremount. You’re not meant for a war like this.”
The anger simmered again. “You think I’m a child?”
His eyes snapped open, and she saw a red spark in his dark irises. “I told you not to come to Maremount. But you did anyway. And now Eden is dead because I had to get you out of the noose first.”
She was trembling now, too. “Why did you save me then, since you seem to regret it so much?”
“I don’t regret saving you, but you never should have been there in the first place.” A brighter burst of red in his eyes. “Eden knew how to fight, and she was still captured. And you have no idea how to fight. We had to stop to get you healed—”
She threw her hands into the air. “If we hadn’t stopped, you would never have known where Eden was in the first place.”
“I would have had the situation under control. It’s a world you don’t understand.”
She crossed her arms. “Just like you have this situation under control. Our only hope right now is that Alan can singlehandedly save us all before we’re sacrificed.” She shouted the last word, and her voice echoed through the tunnels.
He shut his eyes, his body shaking. With each breath, his lung made a sharp whistling sound. He was in too much pain to answer. Maybe he’s had enough, now. She snatched the damp cloth from the ground and crouched next to him, washing his forehead first. His breathing began to ease as she cleaned his face and neck, working her way down to his chest, his skin exposed through his torn white shirt.
A coughing fit overtook his body, and he winced.
“What’s wrong with your breathing?”
“I punctured a lung.”