I understood words again. My mouth moved like a fish gasping on the deck of a boat, but no sound came.
Raf let loose a stream of angry Italian and put a hand on my forehead. Though he winced at the heat, I must have cooled enough because in one swift movement he slid an arm under my shoulders and another under my knees and picked me up off the floor. I was crushed against his chest. My head lolled back. He bounced me to lift my head against his shoulder, and the jarring movement sent flames roaring through my torso. I wheezed in pain.
"We're going to get you out of here, don't worry Saxony. I've got you," Raf whispered. He said more to Fed, but his outrage made the Italian too fast and furious for me to follow.
I let my eyes close as he carried me out of the cell. He had to duck awkwardly to get us through the small door, and the movement gave me vertigo. I passed in and out of consciousness as he carried me, the whole thing feeling like a dream. Every once in a while, I heard Italian, first Raf's voice, then Fed's. Then I felt fresh air on my skin.
Fed held a bottle to my lips and cool water filled my parched mouth. My singed tissues soaked the liquid up greedily. Whenever she took the water away, I wanted to ask for more.
Raf carried me through dark streets. The two of them had stopped talking until we entered a dark alley and Fed said something in a half whisper. Raf responded and there was a jingle of keys. A door being unlocked. We entered a dark space. Raf walked forward in the dark. I gave a hoarse wheeze when I imagined us tripping over something lying on the floor, a child's wheeled toy or a pile of Lego. But Raf glided along silently, like a ghost, until we came to a set of stairs. He bounced me again, getting a better grip, before ascending the stairs. I was pleased to feel that the bounce was merely a sharp shooting pain instead of an excruciating snake of fire through my body—the water was doing its work.
Just when it felt like we had been climbing forever, I saw a flash of brunette hair as Fed slipped by us and opened a door. A beautifully frescoed ceiling yawned in my vision. I was lain tenderly on a soft bed.
I tried very hard to ask how Fed had escaped, but my power of speech hadn’t returned. Raf murmured reassurances.
A wisp of smoke came drifting out of my mouth and curled gracefully in the air over my face.
Raf stopped talking mid-sentence, his eyes focused on the smoke, watching it curl. He blew gently and the smoke drifted sideways. "Madonna," he whispered. He watched the smoke disperse, his face a mix of amazement and horror.
I was given more water, but it was never enough. I drank and drank. Fed left and entered the room multiple times with a jug of the healing liquid. A cool towel was placed on my head. Raf sat on the side of the bed and helped me drink until I couldn’t drink anymore.
I recovered enough control to move my hand clumsily. My hand slapped against his forearm and I tried to touch him. The only way I could say thank you. I succeeded in a hoarse moan, sounding like a ghost haunting an empty hallway. Raf covered my hand and squeezed it gently.
"What the hell did he do to you?" he asked, softly. His cool hand touched the side of my face.
Again I tried to answer and failed, a thin wisp of smoke crept upward from each nostril.
"Never mind. Don't worry. Rest now. We'll talk when you're better." His soft brown eyes belied an edge of outrage.
I had never felt anything more delicious than his cool hand on my face. I turned my hand toward it and closed my eyes.
Thirty-Six
A creaking sound awakened me. My eyelids drifted open. Where was I? Sunlight streamed through a thin crack of a tall curtain. Two matching antique chairs upholstered in gold and black velvet stood either side of the window. Further down the wall was a majestic fireplace of yellow stone. Above the fireplace was a tall portrait of a man in sixteenth century garb with a hunting dog curled at his feet. The face was dark, intense, and goosebumps rose on my skin when I looked at his black eyes.
He can see me.
I shook off the creepy feeling and pulled myself up to my elbow, testing for fire. There was no burning anymore, but my entire body was tender, like I'd been beaten with a meat mallet from the inside. I groaned as I sat up. I heard another creak and realized that it was the sound of a door out in the hallway opening and closing.
I shifted myself up against the upholstered headboard. It was remarkably comfortable. Whoever had constructed the bed had built the headboard so it could be used like a chair back. "I think that's the most brilliant thing I have ever seen," I croaked as I ran a hand along the velvet upholstery. At least I had a voice again.
I put a hand up to my throat and swallowed with some pain. Looking to the night table beside me, I found a glass pitcher and cup with water. I poured myself a glassful with a shaking hand and took a sip, swallowing slowly.
I paused as I felt the liquid pool in my belly. Something was different. There was no fire. I looked down in shock at my own torso, as though expecting to see through myself. I closed my eyes. There was no heat. I jerked upright and winced at the ache in every organ, every muscle. I set the glass on the table, nearly missing it in my distraction. I put a hand to my belly, trying to feel for the fire. Nothing.
I whimpered. My hand came up to cover my mouth as my eyes prickled with tears. Goosebumps swept over my skin. Never before had I felt such a clash of emotion. Was I happy that the fire was gone? Was I upset? Did I miss it? Where had it gone? I hadn’t given it to someone else, had I?
My memory came back to me, clearing up like clouds drifting away from a mountain scene, the details of trees and rocks coming into focus. I remembered Dante, his ultimatums. I remembered the cell with nothing but a lavender scented pillow for comfort and a stinking five-hundred-year-old toilet. Dante's threat to bring me close to death and then force me to give him the fire. And I would have done it, too. All of it played across the technicolor screen of my mind, snapping into clarity.
I thought of his threats against Isaia. With thoughts of him, the fire inside that I thought was gone exploded to life. I hadn't lost it after all. But something had changed. The fire was hotter than ever, but there was no pain. There was a beautiful sensation of heat radiating from my heart. It no longer felt like a beast waiting for me to make a wrong move.
I lifted my shirt to look at my abdomen. The glow appeared, obediently. I let the glow spread, watched it travel down my legs, up to my shoulders and out through my arms to my hands. My entire body was now alight.
"Whoa." I looked up. My light filled the room, threw sharp shadows of the posts of the bed and the chairs along the wall. I looked up at the portrait of the man, my light illuminating him and his dog so brightly that every colour popped. I held my hand up in front of my face and looked at my glowing fingers. I looked down at the mattress beneath me. I was hot but the bed wasn’t burning… because I didn’t want it to.
I heard the creak of the door in the hallway and as quickly as flicking a light switch, I extinguished the light. The room fell into shadow. I waited, but no one came in.
As the moments ticked by, I became aware of a hardening within me. It felt as though my innards were forming a layer of something, like a callous, only stronger. Thoughts of volcanic rock came to mind, once hot and flowing, it soon becomes still and hard. I threw the cover back and exposed my left leg, pulling my foot up close to myself. I looked at the magus mark.