Storm and Fury(25)

“Okay.” I stared at Zayne, because I really didn’t want to see that needle. Not at all. “I don’t like needles.”

Zayne’s hands were resting on his knees and they were tinged in red—covered with my blood. “I don’t think most people do.”

I swallowed as Matthew’s fingers brushed over the center of my arm. “You seem like someone who likes needles.”

“Because I’m a pain in the ass?”

My laugh ended in a sharp gasp as the needle stung my arm. “You said it. Not me.”

One side of his lips kicked up. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” I blinked slowly, feeling the buzzing warmth travel up the back of my neck and splash over my skull. “Are you?”

The other side of those lips tipped. “Yeah.”

“That’s good, because if you pass out, you might fall on me,” I said. “And you look really heavy.”

“I am really heavy.” His gaze flicked to Matthew and then his gaze came back to mine and held it just as I’d started to look to see what Matthew was doing with that needle. “You want to hear something strange?”

I swallowed as I felt the warmth flood my chest. “Sure.”

Zayne leaned in, and when he spoke, his voice was so low. “I feel like...like we’ve met before,” he said, and I vaguely became aware of Matthew’s fingers stilling. “I felt that way the first time we spoke, but we haven’t. I would’ve remembered.”

My heart rate sluggishly picked up, because I... I’d felt that way, too. “Same,” I murmured. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied.

“Thierry,” Matthew said in a hushed whisper, but I didn’t hear what he said, if he said anything else. The last thing I saw was those pale blue eyes, and then I saw nothing at all.





11


When I opened my eyes again, Peanut’s transparent face was right above mine.

“I thought you were dead,” he said.

Gasping, I shrank back into bed, away from Peanut. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.”

His head tilted. “Do what?”

“That!” I shrieked. “Hover over me while I sleep.”

“I do it all the time.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Sorry. Forget I said that.” He drifted to the side, somewhere out of the line of my vision. “Glad you’re not dead.”

“Me, too.” Mouth and throat incredibly dry, I sat up and looked around. I was in my bedroom and the bedside lamp was on, casting a soft glow into the darkness. Above me, the stars on the ceiling were gleaming. “Do you really do that while I sleep?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

I thought about that. “No.”

He giggled.

Pushing the blanket down, I checked myself out. “How did I get into my pajamas?”

“Some lady cleaned you up and changed you. I think they set your clothes on fire or something. You were out cold.” Peanut floated to the center of the room. “I didn’t peek. I swear. I only peek at strangers.”

“That’s...that’s not any better.”

“Don’t judge me and my life and my choices.”

I stared at him and then I lay back down, feeling like there were no tendons between my bones and muscles. I knew the deep exhaustion had nothing to do with whatever meds Matthew’d shot me up with.

Speaking of meds... I pulled up the sleeve on my left arm. Three angry red marks stretched about four inches over my skin. The stitching was fine and neat, but that was... That was definitely going to scar.

A scar wasn’t a big deal.

What happened and why was a big deal. If it hadn’t been Clay, then it had... It had to be like what happened to my mother, and that meant I wasn’t safe here.

I wasn’t really safe anywhere.

If it had been Clay? I had no idea what that would mean. I’d defended myself, but Wardens were... Well, they were sometimes above what I believed was right and wrong.

Worse, I’d bled everywhere. If there were more Ravers nearby, or if that Upper Level demon was close, they’d turn into big, raging and ravenous bloodhounds. They’d scent that blood and come here.

Demons tended to get a wee bit...cannibalistic when they got ahold of someone like me. That was one of the reasons I was the last of my kind.

All of that was a big deal, so a scar was nothing.

I let go of my sleeve and dropped my hand to my stomach as what happened to me really sank in.

Everything was about to change.

“Someone’s coming,” Peanut said, and a second later, my door cracked open.

I rose onto my elbows, squinting. It was Thierry. “Trin?”

“I’m awake,” I croaked out.

The door opened the rest of the way, and I saw he wasn’t alone. Matthew followed, carrying what I hoped was a glass of water. I expected to see Misha right behind them, but Matthew closed the door.

That was...odd.

“How are you feeling?” Thierry asked, nearly walking through Peanut on the way to the chair at my desk.

“Okay.” I watched Peanut wave his arm in front of Thierry’s face to no avail. “Just tired.”

Matthew sat beside my legs. “Do you think you can sit up and stomach some water?”

“I would jump out of that window for some water,” I said, pushing up. The stitches tugged at my arm.

“That would be interesting,” Peanut said as Thierry rolled the chair over to the bed.

“Let’s not go that far.” Thierry reached behind me and fluffed up the pillows so that I could lean back against them. “How exhausted are you?”

Thierry knew what happened after I used my grace. There was little he didn’t know. “The same as before.”

“The nosebleed doesn’t seem as bad this time.” Matthew offered the glass.

It wasn’t. Last time, I’d bled for hours afterward.

I took the glass from Matthew and drank greedily until his fingers covered mine, tipping the glass away from my lips.

“Slowly. You don’t want to get sick.”

“And hurl all over yourself.” Peanut was behind Thierry now.

“Can you talk about what happened?” Thierry asked.

Reluctantly I lowered the almost-empty glass. “I was here, but I...I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and went to the Pit, but when I got there, I changed my mind. On the walk back, I heard someone behind me. Before I could look, I was hit on the back of my head. It stunned me.”

“You didn’t see who it was?” Thierry asked.

I finished off the rest of the water and murmured my thanks when Matthew took the glass from me. “He was wearing a mask.”

Matthew straightened, his blue-eyed gaze darting from me to Thierry. “What kind of mask?”

“A really creepy doll mask. The kind with the painted red cheeks.” I shuddered. “I never saw his face, but I know it was a Warden.” I prepared myself for the possible answer to my next question. “Was it Clay?”

“We haven’t found him yet,” Thierry answered. “He wasn’t at home or at the Pit.”

I looked between the two. “So, it could be him?”

“Could be,” Thierry said.

I didn’t know what to think. Would Clay really have attacked me because he’d gotten in trouble for what happened between us? That was horrible to even consider, but at the same time, was it better than the attacker being an unknown enemy?

“Everyone is being checked to see if we’re missing anyone,” Thierry continued as if he could read my thoughts. “We’ll know shortly who it was.”

Drawing in a shallow breath, I focused on Thierry. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stop it, and I fought back, but I was...unprepared.” Embarrassment clogged my throat. “He came at me from behind and he clawed me. I guess instinct took over. I couldn’t—”

“Stop.” Thierry covered my hand with his. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did what you needed to do to survive.”

A knot formed in the back of my throat. “But—”

“There are no buts. What happened is not your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it is the bastard who attacked you, and Misha—”

“It’s not Misha’s fault.”

“I’ve already spoken to him.” Thierry leaned back. “Misha knows he’s partly responsible. He should’ve been with you—”

“I told him I was staying in all night, and I was. He didn’t know I was going to leave,” I reasoned, not wanting Misha to be in trouble. “I thought I was safe here.”

Thierry’s jaw hardened. “His duty is not to do as you tell him or to assume that you’re going to do one thing or another, Trinity. You know that.”

“He can’t watch over me 24/7. He needs to have a life.”

“You are his life,” Thierry responded. “That might sound extreme, but it’s true.”

“She knows that, as does Misha,” Matthew interjected smoothly. “But they’re young. Both of them. Mistakes are going to happen. God knows we’ve made plenty ourselves.” He looked at Thierry. “We’ve made big ones that inevitably have led to other ones.”

I had no idea what he was referencing.

Thierry’s dark brows snapped together and he sat back. A long moment passed. “Is there anything else you can tell us about who attacked you?”