And she knew how her father pried them off. He left his bloody tools, the tools of a surgeon, out for anyone to see.
Edythe picked up the first scale, pressing it against his skin. As soon as the scale touched him, it changed. It became pliable. It shifted and moved. The light caught the curved edge, and it glimmered, white and purple and blue and pink.
Linc still didn’t move, and her worry increased exponentially. Every other night, by this time, he’d regained control over his limbs. He sat up. He groaned, or approximated a groan. He hissed when she pricked him with the needle.
Tonight, all he did was follow her with his eyes. They tracked her movements. Watching as she threaded the needle, and as gently as she could, sewed the scales back on, one-by-one.
“Linc,” she whispered. “One day, I’m going to see you in the sunlight. I’m probably going to need sunglasses, because you’ll be so bright. Like a rainbow.”
She met his eyes, and he rolled them, causing her to smile through the tears streaking down her face. She wiped her eyes on her shoulder, pretending they weren’t there. She caught his narrowed gaze, but like earlier, she ignored his anger.
By the tenth scale, Linc started to move. I’m not leaving.
“Yes, you are.” Edythe tried to remember how her mother sounded when she gave directions which must be obeyed. She finished stitching another scale, this one to his shoulder, and he shrugged, rolling his shoulder back and then forward. From the corner of her eyes, she saw his legs shift and his fingers twitch.
She looked at the scales that were left and then his body. She could see no place, save his face, where he was missing scales. They must be on his back.
“Can you turn over?”
She heard him mentally groan before he pushed himself over. There. High up on his shoulder blade, open and oozing, was the place. She dipped her cloth in the salt water, now tinged pink, and swept it across his skin. She held the scale to his skin, feeling it soften and bend, and stitched it quickly. When she was finished, she stood up and grabbed the bucket, pushing it closer to him. He dipped his hands inside, the look on his face making her smile. He cupped his hands, dragging the water over his forearms, and up his shoulders. He splashed it onto his face.
He stood and put his hands on his hips. He stretched his neck, tipping his head back to the ceiling and then from side to side. Edythe stood and hissed, tweaking her wrist.
I told you to go away.
“I told you to stop being bossy.” She stamped her foot, hating when Linc got like this. Yes, he was older, but she wasn’t a baby.
She had to crane her neck to look up at him. She thought he was a teenager, but she couldn’t be sure. He looked like a teenager, someone who was in high school and played soccer under the lights at the sports complex on Friday nights.
“Are you ready?”
Linc knelt, grasping her shoulders. I told you, I’m not leaving.
“Why not?” Edythe glared at him. “He’s going to kill you.”
I can’t.
“Yes. You can. We’re leaving tonight.”
Edie…
She hated when he called her Edie. It made it really, really hard for her to say no to him. She didn’t know why it was so important for him to stay there. It hurt her to watch him be hurt.
“Why, Linc? You have to tell me. He’s killing you. Every day he gets a little bit closer.”
It doesn’t matter, Edie. I can’t leave. Linc stared hard into her face. Her skin tingled, almost like goosebumps, but sharper, a little bit more painful. It made her scratch at her arms, and it made him start.
Are you okay?
She nodded. “Come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled, but it was like moving a house. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was solid. Anchored. “Linc, please. Don’t let him kill you.”
“Edythe!”
She jumped, staring at Linc in horror. “He’s coming!” She started pulling harder, begging now, “Linc, now! Leave now!”
She heard a slam so loud it shook the basement, then her father’s heavy footsteps pounded down the steps. The lights flashed on, glaring, brighter than daylight. Lights designed to burn a person’s eyes and bore into their brain. It made her throw up a hand to shield her eyes. She lost her balance and felt Linc pull her into his side, her head resting against his elbow.
When she daydreamed, she pretended Linc was her brother. Someone to protect her and care for her. Over time, he morphed into a prince. Sometimes, when he was really irritating, he was a beast. But in every fantasy, he protected her. Now, though, with her father staring at them, his shoulders heaving and face sweating, she only wanted to protect him.
The lights began to hum, and she felt sweat roll down her back, the moisture sucked from her skin. Linc swayed, and she realized the heat and light sapped his strength.
Her father watched her, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
The words stuck in Edythe’s throat. She could hear Linc’s voice echoing through her head. Run, run, run. She ignored it.