by Kallysten
“Marigold,” Chris said softly, and she realized it was his hand, his comfort being offered with this small gesture. “He’s not there. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s just a memory.”
She shook her head, her throat too tight for words. She wasn’t sure what Chris meant by memory, but she knew, better than she knew anything else in the word, that the thing in the cage could hurt her if he got out.
And then… he did get out. The cage simply faded away and the thing began stumbling forward toward her. Marigold started shaking so hard she felt like her bones might just shatter. She tried to move back, but Chris was behind her and blocked her retreat.
“Why don’t you try shifting?” he asked in that same gentle voice. “You’re a dragon. You can stop him. That’s what you were doing before.”
“I can’t.” She didn’t know what he meant by ‘before,’ but if there was one thing she did know, it was that she couldn’t shift. She’d learned that particular lesson very fast. “I can’t shift. They gave me something. An injection. It stops me from shifting.”
The thing was still coming, but slowly, as though wading through molasses. She watched its progress with an horror that left her cold inside.
“I understand,” Chris said. “I’m sorry this happened to you. But It’s been a while since you had an injection, hasn’t it?”
Marigold opened her mouth to reply, but she didn’t know what to say. She remembered injections, so many of them, but they all blurred together. She couldn’t have said when they’d last pumped that poison into her.
“Can you show me your talons?” Chris asked, his words close to her ear. “I heard once that dragons can shift just part of their body if they want. Can you try?”
Rather than telling him again that she couldn’t shift, she thought she’d show him. She raised her hand in front of her and half-heartedly reached for the dragon within her.
To her great surprise, she found it.
Her hand changed, almost of its own accord, and suddenly she was staring at the claw of a dragon at the end of her arm, at the gleaming steel talons Chris had asked her to display. And she knew exactly what to do with them.
The thing was just beyond an arm’s length now, and trying to reach for her. She took a half-step forward, lashing out with her talons first at the hand that would hold and grope and hurt if it could, then at the thing itself. She slashed it up from crotch to throat. It dissolved into nothing.
Sudden, unexpected joy burst inside Marigold, a joy she didn’t even know she could still feel. Chris’ hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. She looked at him. The pride in his eyes felt warmer than her memories of the sun.
“I knew you could do it,” he said, beaming at her. “Shall we go forward, then?”
Swallowing hard, Marigold looked at the opening in the glass walls through which the thing had come. She wasn’t sure what else hid this way, but she did know it wasn’t anything good. And yet, Chris was with her. He’d come with her. So she’d be all right, wouldn’t she?
She finally nodded, and they walked forward. The path twisted and turned, never going straight for more than a few steps, but even so she could already see a dark shape, somewhere ahead of them. Another monster. Another thing.
When they reached it, the same thing happened again. She could see once more all it had done to her. Pain. This one had inflicted so much pain. She could almost taste the blood on the back of her tongue again. Chris had to remind her, oh so gently, that she could strike back now. And she did. The thing vanished as quickly as the first one had, and yet when it was gone she felt out of breath, as though she’d just had a twelve round boxing match with the barely human creature.
“I’m tired,” she said, resting a hand on the nearest glass wall for support. She could see another dark shape moving somewhere in the distance, beyond more walls. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can,” Chris said, his voice so confident it would have been hard not to believe him. “You’re already doing it. But you don’t have to do it all now. You can rest, and we can continue on the path another time.”
Even as he spoke, he raised his hands and gestured in long, sweeping motions. Marigold gasped as the walls around them moved and rearranged themselves, forming a larger chamber in the middle of the corridor. And within the chamber, a sort of semi-sphere of golden light formed, encompassing Marigold and a four poster bed that appeared out of nowhere, with thick pillows and fluffy blankets that Marigold just ached to wrap around herself.
“This is not a cage,” Chris said, holding his hand out to her. “It’s just a safe place for you to rest. If you want to leave and explore the maze while I’m gone, you can do that. But if you stay in, no monster will be able to approach. All right?”
He said it with such conviction that she couldn’t not believe him. Nodding, she took his hand, and he led her to the bed, drawing the blankets back for her and pulling them up to her chin after she’d climbed in. Her body tensed when he leaned over her. He stopped for a second, then very gently laid a kiss upon her forehead.
“Rest,” he said very softly. “I’ll be back soon, and we can try to find the way out again.”
She closed her eyes, wondering what he meant when he said he’d be back, but too tired to ask now. He’d be there, he’d help her again, and that was all that mattered now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chris left Marigold snuggled up in her blankets and already half-asleep in her mind, only to find the real Marigold bundled up in her actual bed, her eyes closed and her breathing regular. Tears had left salted red trails on her cheek. Chris shuddered as he recalled the flashes of memories that had filled her mindscape, and he had to take a few deep breaths to settle down.
He’d seen in Petro’s and Hazel’s combined memories that they’d killed every guard in that so-called jail, and yet the desire to kill those men—those things, as Marigold thought of them—burned bright within him. He’d never been prone to violence, and even when he was imprisoned all he’d wanted was to get out, giving no thoughts to revenge against his captors. But what those animals had done to Marigold…
“Are you done?” Zita asked suddenly, jerking him out of his thoughts.
He stood and turned to her. She was leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed, and he could only wonder if she’d stayed there the entire time.
“For today,” he said, and his words came out a little raw. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He followed her out to the kitchen, asking for a glass of water that she offered him without a word. She didn’t like him, he realized that much, and he really couldn’t have cared less. He thanked her with a nod as he put the empty glass in the sink, then stepped to the open door.
“Did you know the police from a town outside the walls are asking for her to be turned in?” Zita asked just as he was about to step out.
He froze on the threshold and turned wide eyes back to her.
“What?”
“Well, obviously they don’t know her name or anything,” Zita added. “But they want the dragon who attacked someone outside the walls last night. They’re threatening to call federal reinforcements if we don’t give her to them.”
Federal reinforcements, Chris knew at once, would mean the UIPP. In other words, the same people that had imprisoned Chris, Idris, Isolda, and so many more. There was little ‘investigation’ to the work they did. Calling them the unit for internment of paras would have been more accurate. They might be ‘better’ than the savages that had held Marigold, but only marginally.
“How do you know that?” he asked urgently. “Did you get word from Lily Littlewings?”
He didn’t ask ‘are they going to give Marigold to them?’ but only because his suddenly tight throat refused to let the words pass.
“We’ve got a radio station inside Sanctuary,” she explained. “It’s rigged up so that only people within the walls and with special equipment can hear the programs. They’ve been giving updates on th
e situation, making sure everyone who can fight is ready to defend Sanctuary if it comes to that. All thanks to you.”
Fight? Chris’ lips formed the word soundlessly. He’d thought he’d be away from all fighting, here. And he’d thought Marigold would be safe.
Without another word to Zita, he left the cottage and biked straight back to the center of town—and to Lily’s mansion. A secretary admitted him in to see Lily right away. Stepping into her office, he didn’t even bother with niceties and asked straight out, “Are you going to give her to them?”
Looking up from the papers she was reading at her desk, Lily Littlewings gave him another one of those looks that made him feel like he was about five and had been caught playing with matches.
“Don’t be stupid,” she scoffed. “Give her to them? It’d be the same as sacrificing a child to a bunch of wolves in hopes that they’d leave the rest of us alive. We’re paras, not prehistoric brutes.”
He wasn’t sure whether he felt more ashamed that he’d even thought for a second she might consider it or relieved that she obviously wouldn’t.
“So what happens now?” he asked.
She let out a deep sigh. He wasn’t sure how old she was; she had two daughters in their mid to late twenties, so she had to be at least in her forties. Right now however, for the first time since he’d met her, he could have believed her to be twenty years older than that, or even more.
“What happens,” she said tiredly, “is that I keep trying to convince them that the person who did this isn’t responsible for her actions and is now contained. Maybe if I say it enough times they’ll start believing me.” Her gaze sharpened a little as she looked at him and added, “How is she? You’ve seen her today, haven’t you?”
Chris nodded. His heart tried to jump in his chest at the thought of his time with Marigold today.
“I did. And I think we made some progress.”
She sat up a little straighter at that, leaning forward over her desk and the papers neatly lined up on it.
“Some? How much is some? What kind of progress?”
He shrugged a little, looking around the room. Everything in here screamed of careful organization: the large, detailed map that took almost an entire wall, the multiple filing cabinets lining the opposite wall, the computer by the window, the mouse pad squared up just so with the corner of the small desk. Could someone who liked order as much as Lily seemed to do possibly understand the chaos of Marigold’s mind… and how the new chaos he’d encountered today had seemed so much better to him than the chaos that had reigned in her thoughts until now?
“It’s hard to explain. Before, she saw herself as her dragon, and she was fairly static. Now she thinks of herself as human, and there’s a maze…”
He shook his head rather than finishing; to hear it spoken aloud, it didn’t sound like progress at all.
“If you really want to know,” he said, “I can take you inside her mind. You can see for yourself.”
She blinked several times at the suggestion.
“You can do that?”
“I can, yes. I did it for Isolda. It might be a little harder for someone she doesn’t know, but if you want to try…”
He wasn’t entirely sure why he was offering this to her. She wasn’t related to Marigold like Isolda was, and she had no other link with her, like Chris himself did. But related or not, she held Marigold’s fate in her hands. If she stopped believing Marigold could get better, what would happen then?
Lily didn’t answer right away. A strange gleam had just lit up in her eyes, and for some reason Chris didn’t like it at all. When she told him what she had in mind, he tried to object, tried to find reasons why this wasn’t a good idea, but in the end he had to cave in. He understood she was only trying to save Marigold, along with everyone else in Sanctuary—and try as he might, he couldn’t think of a better plan.
*
Marigold wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but she was glad that, when she woke up, Chris was at her side again, in the small golden dome he’d created for her. She smiled at him as she sat up in her bed and he smiled back, but just the same his expression remained grim.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, some unknown fear keeping her words a whisper.
“Not wrong, exactly,” he replied. He held his hand out to her and helped her sit on the edge of the bed. “Would it be okay with you if I brought someone here to talk to you?”
Immediately, the image of Isolda fluttered through her mind, accompanied by a wave of hope. Before she could ask if that was whom he meant, however, Chris shook his head. He looked sad.
“Not her, no. Not today. Maybe another time, when you feel better.”
The hope was replaced by sadness—and even more so by guilt. ‘When you feel better,’ he’d said, so why did she feel like he meant, ‘when Isolda feels better’ instead? Why did she have this sudden certainty that something had happened to Isolda?
“Is she hurt?” she blurted out, seeking an answer on Chris’ features.
His expression remained the same, calm and a little sad.
“She had a small accident,” he said, and squeezed Marigold’s hand softly. “But she’s all right. It wasn’t anything bad. Don’t be worried, okay?”
But how could she not be? She had to keep Isolda safe. It was what she had to do, and for so long she’d been unable—
Chris took her face between his hands and captured her gaze.
“Hey. None of that, now. Both of you are in a safe place now. That’s all that matters. Okay?”
In front of the certainty in his eyes, she had to nod and agree with a quiet, “Okay.”
She wasn’t sure it was that easy, but he was sure, and she wanted to believe him.
“All right,” he said with a small smile.
He lowered his hands to take her own again, and she missed the more intimate contact of his fingertips against her temples and hair.
“Now, like I was saying, I’d like you to meet someone you’ve never met. She’s the mayor of a small town outside the walls.”
She understood all the words he’d uttered, of course, but put together they didn’t make much sense to her. The walls? What walls were those? What kind of walls could they be that a town existed outside them? Shouldn’t a town be within the protection of walls? And why would a mayor want to meet her?
Chris seemed to realize she was confused, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s fine,” he said softly. “She won’t hurt you or anything. She just wants to meet you. And I’ll be there the entire time. Is that all right?”
She still didn’t understand what this was all about, but it seemed important to him, and he’d been helping her with the monsters, so she figured she could do that for him.
“All right,” she repeated, and tried to smile back at him.
She wasn’t sure she remembered how to smile at all, but at least he seemed satisfied by her answer. He gave her a small nod, then his expression turned remote for a moment. When he blinked, his gaze finding hers again, a woman appeared at his side. She looked somehow less substantial than he did, as though a gust of wind might blow her away. A little shorter than Chris, with a bit of roundness to her body, she watched Marigold from behind heavy glasses that didn’t quite hide the anger in her eyes. An anger that was fully directed at Marigold.
Shuddering under that look, she turned her focus back on Chris. He knelt in front of the bed where she sat, and held both her hands between his.
“Do you remember,” he started softly, “when you shifted and flew out the day before yesterday?”
Marigold frowned at him. “What?”
“You shifted to your dragon form and you flew outside this safe place. There was a spotlight on the ground, and you destroyed it. Do you remember?”
She tried to think hard, because he looked so sure of himself, but she really had no idea what he was talking about.
“I haven’t flown in a very long time,” she s
aid, her voice trembling. “I told you, they drugged me. I couldn’t shift. And even if I could have…”
What she didn’t say was that she couldn’t fly. The monsters—the soldiers—had broken her wing. She’d fallen from the sky and—
The memories surged through her, a sudden whirlwind scattering her thoughts until she didn’t know anymore where she was or what was happening. She remained aware, distantly, of being in the maze, of having Chris’ hands wrapped around her own. But at the same time, she could feel the pain in her wing where she’d been shot. She struggled to keep flying, but she continued to lose altitude, and soon she crashed to the ground and lost consciousness—or did she? She could hear a woman ask in a startled tone, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
Another voice—Chris—answered quietly. “She’s remembering. This was when she was captured. The last time she flew until two night ago.”
More voices surrounded Marigold as she woke up, and those were harsh, mocking, distorted. The monsters. They had her now. She tried to fight, tried to flee, but they hurt her, they held her down, they touched her and hurt her and laughed at her and—
“My God, make it stop.”
The flashes that filled Marigold’s mind, each more painful and uglier than the last, finally stopped as the woman requested it. Marigold was breathing hard. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked repeatedly until she could see Chris kneeling in front of her once more. He’d let go of her hands, and his palms now framed her face, gentle but strong.
“You’re fine,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
But she wasn’t safe, was she? Even now, she could hear the monsters coming closer, laughing, promising in rasping voices to hurt her again. She could see a large shadow behind the glass walls, coming toward the nearest opening. She wanted to run, wanted to fly—but she couldn’t. Even if she was able to shift to her dragon form now, she’d promised Chris she wouldn’t run.
