Cold satisfaction fills me up. That’s one.
The girl stumbles in its disappearance, her eyes going wide, like she’s about to lose it once more.
I gingerly place a finger in front of my lips. The pain may be dulled, but I’m still moving slow. I force the wrath still pulsing through me back, so all she’ll see is just a girl, broken in a bed and not the creature of vengeance I ache to be.
What I will be, once I get her to safety.
She stills, biting her lip. So, I motion her closer. The poor thing hesitates (which I get, because I just murdered something right in front of her, monster or no), but eventually creeps toward me.
It’s too hard to talk, plus I don’t want to alert anyone what I’ve just done, so I create a piece of paper with writing already printed on it. I hold it up to her. I will get us out of here. I will keep you safe. Can you fix my leg and arm?
She stares at the paper in my hand for a long moment. I know she speaks the same language as I, but can she read it? I’m screwed if she doesn’t.
Just before panic sets in, she gifts me with a quick, quiet nod. I put my finger back up to my mouth and erase the paper. And then I erase the cast on my leg and the one on my arm.
She’s still fearful, but her little hands reach out and press feather-light against my leg. Lines scrunch on her forehead; her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth as she squints. It’s awful that I’m asking so much of this young Shaman, but I will be no good for her until I’m back on my feet.
I ache to fall apart, to just ... let myself slide into darkness. Or just let the howling fury building in me free. I don’t want to put that foot in front of the other for what I know I have to do to get us out of here. I don’t know if I have the energy for it. But vengeance is a controlling demon that doesn’t accept weakness or failure. Enlilkian must pay for what he’s done. And then, so help me, I will track that bitch Sophie down and exact the same price from her.
Only then will I allow myself to sink into the lull of desolation.
The girl does her best, I think. By no means, am I fully healed. As she’s probably nine or ten at the oldest, she isn’t nuanced enough to fix all the injuries I have, which leaves an eerie sensation like giant Band-Aids have been peppered all over my body. That’s okay, though. As long as I can get on my feet and a hand can make contact with evil, I’ll be more than good enough to go.
She helps me out of bed, her hand so small in mine. She’s quivering, whispering over and over again about how she’s sorry she can’t do more. I touch her shoulder gently and let her know it’s okay. I’m chewing on cotton when I say it, with a tongue and lips that surely someone snuck in in the middle of the night and glued on me. And then I hug her, because I think the both of us need one.
There are syringes scattered on the floor, bottles, too. I gingerly pick one up—it’s still hard to bend over—and peer down at the label. Dammit. I can’t read the Elvin language it’s in. I turn to her and tap on the label, shrugging my shoulders in confusion.
She leans closer and says softly, “Pain medicine. It’s for nons.”
It’ll do. I motion toward one of the syringes; she picks it up and hands it to me, her eyes wide and confused—a little anxious, too. Does she worry I’m going to dose her with it? I give her a smile: trust me. And then I stick the needle into the rubber top and fill the barrel.
She backs away a little.
I prove I mean her no harm when I shove the needle into my own arm. Something warms spreads out from the epicenter, something numbing.
Numb is good. I can work with numb.
I make a new piece of paper. What is your name? Mine is Chloe.
She looks up at me in surprise, like she recognizes my name. If I’m lucky, maybe she does. “Cicely.”
I get rid of the paper and make a new one. Do you know how many people are here other than us?
Her eyes flit toward the half-open doorway. Five fingers go up; she shakes her head quickly. Four fingers.
Are they all bodies like ours? She’s confused, so I add: Do any look like shadow monsters?
She shakes her head, confused. Okay. She’s only seen the Elders possessing Magical bodies. I do a quick inventory of the ones I know of ... Jens. Harou. Nivedita. Earle, who is now gone. The Elemental ... Thierry? I need you to stay quiet, okay? We need to sneak up on them for me to protect us. Can you stay quiet for me?
She takes a deep breath; nods her head.
Good girl.