by Izzy Shows
“Free her,” I said, my voice a rasping sound.
“And why should I free someone who stands against me?”
I glared up at him, wanting to tell him that he needed to do this for me. There had been a time when that was all he needed to hear, when he would have done anything I asked.
I had wasted those opportunities, I saw. I should have made him promise certain things, not turning on me being chief among them. But could you make a demon promise something like that? I didn’t think so. There was no changing the monster inside of him. No mere mortal could do that.
He sighed again as he dropped his other hand. Emily immediately began to cough, a sound I had never thought would be music to my ears. She was breathing, and that was all that mattered.
I fixed my gaze on him again now that I’d satisfied myself that Emily was alive. “You bastard,” I said, snarling. “I can’t believe what you’ve become.”
Harsh laughter escaped his lips. “What I’ve become? Darling, this is who I’ve always been. You blinded yourself to that fact, but that is hardly my fault. Did I not warn you that I was Fallen? That I could never be what you wanted me to be?”
And I had wanted it, so badly. I’d wanted him to have half the decency of a human man, wanted him to have a moral compass and do the right thing because he knew it was right. I had wanted him to be something he could never be, and that was my own fault, I realised.
He was right.
I was an idiot.
“Get rid of it,” I said at last, still panting to bring air into my lungs. My throat felt like it had been squeezed in a vise, it hurt so badly. “Get rid of your mark.”
He blinked, and his expression was stunned for a second before his mask dropped back into place. “Even if I cared to, I can’t.”
“Liar!” I shouted. “You’re still lying to me!”
“Careful, Blair,” he said. “You don’t want to talk to me like that.”
“Fuck you,” I said. “Fuck you for all you’ve done. You’ve lied to me long enough. You let me live with this mark for two years when you knew what it was doing to me, and you knew how to get rid of it this whole time. I know, Mal. I know everything. There’s no hiding it from me now. Get. Rid. Of. It.”
He stalked towards me and crouched in front of me, his face dangerously close to mine.
My world froze, containing only him and me in that moment, and again I couldn’t breathe, though it had nothing to do with the oxygen in the room. Damn him for having this effect on me. It was only because he was a demon, surely. It was only because I bore the mark.
“You’re right, Blair. I can get rid of the mark, if that’s what you wish. But allow me to make this very clear—there is no going back from this. There is no future deal with which you can regain this power or my protection.”
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. But it was gone too quickly for me to be sure.
My gut clenched as I considered his words, however briefly. It was true that I would never be given another opportunity; I didn’t need a fortune teller to tell me that. There was no going back from this decision, but I didn’t have a choice.
Did I even want one, or was his proximity making me wish I did?
Anger flooded through me as I considered the possibility that he was manipulating me.
I spat in his face. “I don’t want your damned protection.” It doesn’t mean anything when you could just trade me away.
His eyes widened as if he could hear my thoughts, but he didn’t say another word. He just wiped the spit from his face and sighed. “As you wish,” he said. Then he reached down and shoved my sleeve up, his fingers brushing against my skin.
Desire surged through me at the contact, and I had to fight it with every breath. He was manipulating me, nothing more. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.
His hand wrapped around my wrist, his palm on the mark, and I felt the familiar sensation of belonging. Of euphoria. It always came when he touched the mark; the mark knew it belonged to him, and it wanted me to feel the same thing.
That was my theory, anyway. I didn’t have any proof.
My breathing became laboured, but I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to be weak. Refusing to look away and acknowledge that I was affected by him. He was nothing to me; I had to keep telling myself that.
You’re nothing to him.
That was the truth, and it hurt even to think it.
“Take a deep breath, cher,” he murmured, his voice a dark and silken caress.
My eyes widened, because for that moment, he had sounded like himself. What was happening?
And then pain rocketed through me. It was the exact opposite of what had happened when he gave me the mark and the power that came along with it, when we had kissed for the first time and the rush of power had been practically orgasmic. Now, there was only pain.
The world went black.
Thirty Six
I came to on my couch, feeling like I had a raging hangover. There was no getting around how awful I felt. Had I drunk too much last night? But, no, that wasn’t right, because a quick look at the window confirmed that it was still night. I wouldn’t be hung over in the middle of the night. I would still be drunk.
Then why did every bone in my body ache, and why did my wrist hurt so much?
I glanced down at it and saw nothing there.
No, that wasn’t right. There should be a mark there. There had been a brand on my skin for the past two years. Why wasn’t there one now?
Memories came filtering in one at a time, of Mal’s apartment and his brutal conduct. Being thrown against a wall hard enough that I thought my back had broken. His choking me without laying a finger on me. His removing the brand, and the all-consuming pain that had come along with it, pain so bad that my body had shut down to protect me from it.
I moaned, rubbing my head with my hand. It had gone so badly, but in the end, I’d got what I wanted, hadn’t I?
“You’re awake!” Emily’s voice sent a jolt through me, and I turned to see her standing in the entryway to the kitchen. “I was just about to call Shawn. You’ve been down for two hours. You really scared me.”
“No, don’t call Shawn. I don’t want to see him right now,” I said, shaking my head. “I want a drink. Or a cigarette. Or both.”
The truth was, I wanted a thousand drinks, because I wanted to forget every moment of that night: Mal crouching in front of me, and the way he had told me to take a breath. The way he had sounded, in that moment, like his old self. Or his new self, depending on the way you looked at it.
I wanted things to be normal between us, but it was clear to me that things were never going to be normal, that I couldn’t have normal no matter how much I wanted it.
My cheeks felt wet, and I realised that I was crying.
“I’ll get you a drink,” Emily said slowly. She was frowning, and I was sure she couldn’t understand my reaction. After all, I should be jubilant right now. I had rid myself of the last connection to a demon, and wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?
I didn’t know anymore.
“Scotch, please,” I said, grimacing as I turned back so I could relax on the couch. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my thoughts, tried to stop crying.
But the tears kept falling, and there was nothing I could do about that.
Why did Mal have to be such a dick? Why does he have to be so confusing?
It wasn’t fair for him to choke me and then talk to me with that voice in the span of only a few minutes. He should know better than to behave that way in front of a person. It wasn’t fair, but I didn’t know what I was going to do about it.
There was nothing to do about it. After all, there was nothing linking the two of us together now. Lilith was on the mend; she had done so much better during our last session, and I thought the taint might be entirely gone from her now. And the mark was gone. There would be no more training sessions to learn how to control the mar
k.
It was gone, and so was any connection Mal and I had had.
The tears kept falling, and I swiped at them with one hand. I shouldn’t be crying. I should be happy.
I shifted into a sitting position, took a deep breath, and shoved off the couch. Emily chose that moment to walk back into the room carrying two glasses.
“Let’s go outside. I need a cigarette,” I said.
“Sure,” she replied, smiling a little. I didn’t have the energy to return the smile.
We walked outside and sat on the steps together. She handed me the drink, and I took a sip from it.
It burned on the way down, and that was comforting in its own way. Pain was my friend, after all. I could always count on pain to keep me centered. I took another sip, then set the glass down on the concrete beside me and pulled my pack of cigarettes and lighter from my pocket. I lit one and inhaled the nicotine deeply, letting it wash through me.
The world sucked right now.
“How do you feel?” Emily’s voice was soft, tentative, like she was walking on eggshells around me.
I shrugged. “Not too different.”
“You’re crying, Blair,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I’m a little confused. My emotions are on the fritz. It’s probably a side effect. I did just have magic ripped out of my soul, after all.”
She was silent for a moment, and I took another drag off my cigarette.
“You can tell me the truth,” she said quietly. “I won’t judge you.”
I stubbed out my cigarette, then picked up my drink and took a sip. “What do you want me to say, Emily? That I’m sad now that it’s all said and done? How can you not judge me for that? I shouldn’t be sad that it’s over.”
“You were close with him. I know that. You trusted him, and while that might have been a mistake—”
“I know, Emily. I know it was a mistake.”
“Let me finish! It might have been a mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and you’re allowed to be sad. It was an important lesson, and when we learn things like that, they often hurt. You’re allowed to be hurt.”
I sighed, then inhaled deeply. The tears had finally stopped. “No, I’m not. I should have known better, and I can’t allow myself to be weak.”
“You’re human, Blair. Of course you’re allowed to have moments of weakness.”
I wanted to explain to her that she was wrong, but her words rang true. I was only human, after all.
Wasn’t that the problem? Wasn’t that what it came down to? I was only human, and he was Fallen. Of course I couldn’t hold his attention for long. I was just a plaything.
Gods, but it all hurt so much. I hated him for doing this to me, for making me feel this way. For leaving me like this.
I couldn’t chase away the feeling that this was all my fault for not giving him the chance that he’d wanted, but didn’t that affirm my decision? If he was acting like this because I’d rejected him, that proved he wasn’t a good person. That he wasn’t someone I should have become involved with.
At the end of the day, neither of us could be what the other one wanted.
I let out my breath in a loud whoosh. “I hate feeling like this. It’s a shitty way to feel.”
Emily turned and smiled at me. “But it means you let someone in, and that’s really not so bad a thing.”
“Yes, it is, if it leaves me feeling like this.”
“But you told me that it wasn’t so long ago that you refused to keep friends around for too long, that you didn’t let people in, that you didn’t trust people. You’re growing, Blair, and I’m proud of you.”
“You’re proud of me.” I echoed her, my voice dull. “Emily, do you realise how insane you sound?”
She laughed. “I suppose it sounds strange, to be proud that you entertained a relationship with a Fallen, but you wouldn’t be the first to be sucked in by their charms, so it’s not your fault. No, I’m not proud of who the person was, but I am proud that you’re opening yourself up to new experiences.”
“Yeah, well, that stops now. I know better now.”
I took another pull off my cigarette, and she laid a hand on my knee. I shivered at her touch on my bare skin through the hole in my jeans.
“Please, don’t mean that. You can’t push us all away now. We won’t let you,” she said, grinning at me. “You’ve got friends, whether you like it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it. So there.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I did like having friends, as strange a notion as that was. I liked that I could call on Emily when I needed her, and that she would be there for me.
But it frightened me that I could depend on another person. I hadn’t wanted to admit it—I’d told myself so many times that I didn’t trust Mal, but I’d become accustomed to our friendship, and it was like a knife carving through my insides that he had turned on me.
“I don’t want to feel like this ever again,” I said. My voice was hushed.
“I promise I’ll never leave you,” she said.
“You can’t know that.”
“Of course I can. I know we’re going to be friends for a long time to come. I know who you are, and I’m quite fond of you.”
I felt colour rising in my cheeks, and I looked away from her, pretending that it was so I could exhale my smoke and not get it in her face. “I didn’t think Mal would leave, either.”
“I’m not him, Blair.”
“I know that,” I sighed. “But it doesn’t change the way everything feels right now. It just sucks, that’s all.”
“You’ll get through this, like you get through everything else.”
What if I didn’t want to always get through things? What if I wanted something to be simple for once? Emily was telling me that she wouldn’t leave me, but everyone did at some point or another.
Maybe it was time to let go of those feelings, of that fear of abandonment. But I couldn’t simply decide to do that; my insecurities ran too deep.
“I’m sorry I can’t put my faith in you the way you want me to,” I said.
“That’s OK. I’ll still be here, no matter what you believe. My friendship isn’t dependent on whether you believe in it.”
“I don’t want you to think that I don’t value it, though. Of course I do. I’m just…”
“Afraid that this is a look into your future, that everyone will leave you, and you’ll be left with nothing but this pain?”
Tears burned at my eyes again, and I had to blink fiercely to get them gone. She’d hit the nail on the head. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“No. You could never be pathetic, Blair. It’s natural to be afraid of that, considering everything you’ve gone through.”
I laughed. “I don’t know how to believe anything else.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “That’s what friends are for, Blair: to show you how things can be different, to give you a new perspective on life. I’m always going to be here for you, and so will Finn and Shawn and Raven and Fred. You don’t have to worry about losing us.”
I didn’t know if that was true. I was sure Shawn would disappear as soon as he found out that I didn’t want to continue our little arrangement, and Finn was going to get fed up with me sooner or later. Raven would probably leave at some point; they didn’t seem the sort to stick around.
Fred, of course, didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was tied to the house, and that wasn’t the best basis for a relationship.
Emily would leave as soon as she learned how awful I really was. She had somehow blinded herself to that truth. I didn’t know how she’d done it, but she had.
Maybe you’re not as awful as you think. The thought whispered through my mind, and I was shocked by it. I had never thought anything about myself other than what a piece of shit I was.
Maybe I was growing, after all.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“
For being exactly what I need, when I need it.”
She squeezed my shoulder. Pain arched through me from the burn there, but it was a good feeling nonetheless.
“I’ll always be here for you, Blair.”
I hoped so.
Thirty Seven
It wasn’t hard to fall asleep that night, so mentally and physically exhausted was I. The ‘fight’—if it could be called that; I hadn’t exactly fought back—with Mal had taken a lot out of me, and I was in a lot of pain.
And that night, the normal nightmares didn’t come.
I was standing on a Scottish moor, the wind whipping around me, a storm brewing. The air tasted like rain, and I revelled in the feeling. I breathed deeply, enjoying the purity of this moment. There was nothing here but me and nature.
Looking down at myself, I saw that I was wearing a dress, of all things. It was white, long and flowing, and the wind whipped it forward towards the cliff I was standing near.
The air was suddenly charged with an electricity I would know anywhere. I turned and saw Mal standing beside me.
He was dressed in his typical attire: a red shirt, black tie, and black trousers. His black hair was tousled by the wind, and his golden eyes were sad. His hands were in his pockets, and he gazed at me as if I were the last thing he would ever see.
“What’s wrong, Mal?” I was tired. My shoulders were drooping, and I was sure my eyes revealed too much of what I was feeling.
His eyes mirrored my own. He stepped forward, lifting a hand towards me, and then dropped it back to his side. “I’m sorry,” he said.
This is my imagination, I told myself. It’s only a dream, and it’s all of my own making.
Still, I allowed it. It felt good. It was the resolution I needed to all of the pain that was still carving its way through me as if it intended to leave me without my heart. That might be good—after all, it was having a heart that had left me in so much pain that I hardly recognised myself.
Without a heart, I wouldn’t be open to so much pain.
