Killing Time

by Elisa Paige

  At some point, the lantern’s bright light dimmed to a faint glow, then eventually faded completely, leaving me in utter darkness. No sound from outside penetrated the storm shelter. No cracks or crevices showed if it was day or night. There was only the sound of my own breathing and the cool, damp floor beneath my cheek.

  I grew furious then, debating at great length whether to shade out from the ropes and chains’ hold. To hell with the old man and the challenge in his eyes. I’d find Koda myself and anyone who dared try to stop me—or to remove me from his side—would bleed. It made perfect sense. The logic of it was unshakable. I was a bittern and nothing mere humans could contrive had the capacity to hold me against my will.

  But that was the sticking point in my argument. My will. My damn will. Because the arrogant anger was the Feral Sephti talking. The one who had no compunctions about doing whatever she damn well pleased, screw the consequences.

  I wanted to be better than that. I wanted to prove to the old man and to Ahanu…hell, to myself, I was better than that.

  Forcing my tense muscles to relax, I tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard floor. The growing kink in my neck, the painful stiffness in my back and a building headache raised Round Two of the internal debate. What if I just shaded out from the bindings, but remained in the shelter? I could get off this damn concrete and stretch out on one of the musty cots—not the most luxurious of accommodations, but a whole lot better than my current situation.

  I’d still be holding to the intent of the Sioux leader’s conditions. Wouldn’t I? Even though I wasn’t sticking to the specific details. It would still count…right?

  Back and forth, I argued both sides, the silent battle in my mind exponentially worsening my headache. In the end, I stayed bound and uncomfortable. I’d given my word. That I was also metaphorically flipping the old man off made my discomfort more palatable, since I’d read his doubt that I wouldn’t abide by his conditions. That he figured I’d prove for him that all those touched by fae were untrustworthy. Dishonorable.

  It was only when I’d put to rest the do-I-don’t-I debate that I made the connection between my pounding head and growing hunger. Another wave of antipathy toward the old man challenged my resolve to remain tied, since the jerk—in his oh-so-sure determination I was fae—had left me five feet from enough food to feed fifty people, but with no way to get to it, let alone pry the cans open. Cursing a blue streak, I wiggled inside the ropes and chains, and by almost dislocating my shoulder, managed to spill the jelly beans from my pocket onto the rough floor. Twisting around so I could reach them, I lipped the candy up one at a time, bad-naturedly spitting out the grit and cement dust I had no way to avoid. I made the jelly beans last, but eventually they were gone. Chewing slowly, drawing it out, I finally had to swallow and tried not to think about how long I had until the bittern coma took me.

  Cue more profanity.

  It was a helluvalot better than the despair threatening to engulf me every time I let thoughts of Koda sneak into my mind. That no one had come for me yet had to mean that he still lived, that he was still fighting for his life. I couldn’t let myself imagine the worst—that he’d died and the old man had left me here to rot.

  Even having stretched out the jelly beans, hunger and emotional exhaustion took their toll. I’d kept hoping someone with news of Koda would come. That now that I’d proven the strength of my word, they’d release me. Every time my determination to wait wore thin and I’d once again consider shading, I’d tell myself Just a little while longer. They’ll come. Just wait a bit more.

  Then it was too late. Exhausted and on the verge of starvation, I was no longer capable of misting my form. I wasn’t even able to voice a bitter laugh that my word really had bound me. Fat lot it would do for the old man to finally send someone down here to check on me, only to discover I’d died of hunger. Guess they’d believe then that I wasn’t fae and they’d let me go. Of course, since I’d be dead, it’d put a real kink in the whole freedom thing.

  This got me wondering if Koda was right, if I had a soul. Nothing like contemplating death to make you wonder about the hereafter.

  Shuddering, I shut down that train of thought. Focusing on the physical, I wondered dazedly if my eyes were open or closed. It was so damn dark in the shelter, I couldn’t tell. Then I wondered if it mattered. Why the hell should I care what my eyelids were doing? Just as quickly, my delirious mind shot back that it was only curious, was all. No reason to get so freaking testy. This ridiculous back-and-forth went on for a while, until I wasn’t sure if I was entertaining myself in a bizarre sort of way or if I’d genuinely lost it.

  My blood sugar continued to plummet and my body started to shut down. My heart’s rhythm changed as it fought to keep oxygen and blood going to the most vital systems, leaving my extremities to fend for themselves. My hands and feet felt like icy blocks, chills shook me as the muscles did their useless best to generate body heat. And my senses turned on me, cruelly triggering my survival instincts when I was utterly unable to mount a defense—either mental or physical.

  Were the terrifying sounds, so close at hand, delusional? Was I reliving horrific memory? Or were the sounds of bodach claws on concrete, the hiss of ehrlindriel blades being drawn, the explosive crack of a striking whip…were they all real? Was I alone in this pitch-black hell or were my enemies standing over me, stretching out the agonizing moment before they struck?

  At first, I was able to hold off the panic. Was able to convince myself that I was alone. When my will began to erode, taking logic with it, I held my intellect together a little bit longer by filling my thoughts with Koda. Endlessly, I replayed our glorious time together, the sweet love we’d made, the wild passion we’d shared, the gentle words, the tender touches.

  Inevitably, there came a time when even this didn’t work. When the blackness surrounding me leaked into my mind, filling me with hopelessness and despair, identical to what I’d felt every moment in the stable. Present and past blended and it became impossible to determine reality. Was I once again inside the high-walled training courtyard, warily watching three genetic monstrosities—the lords’ latest horrific experiments—circle, seeking an opening in my defense? Was I lying strapped face-down, battered after fighting the guards it had taken to restrain me, while Cian heated a metal brand at a nearby brazier as he explained in velvet tones all the ways he was going to mark me with it? Or was the former Onas, the one who’d defeated me in the battle for rank, standing over me now, teeth bared in dominant sexuality as he accepted the presentation that ritual demanded I offer?

  Somewhere in the fog, someone called to me, but the voice was too far away to be recognizable. There came a muffled curse and the world tilted, then there was only impenetrable, suffocating darkness.

  I no longer had the strength to care if it was simply all that my blinded eyes could see or had somehow burrowed deep into my dying mind.

  For the first time in my existence, I didn’t come fully awake when I roused. My eyes seemed fused shut, my neck felt too weak to lift my head and my body refused my frantic commands to move.

  My mind wasn’t working very well, either and my senses were all out of focus—scents and sounds and sensation all blending together like a miasmic sensory soup, thick and confusing and impossible to sort out. Clattering sounds like drawers being hastily pulled open and slammed shut melded with an antiseptic smell. As if there was no distance between them, something cold and wet touched my inner arm, meshing oddly with my face’s grimy itchiness, my back’s spasming stiffness, the pain from lying on an unforgiving surface. One moment, it felt like I was bound, my arms and legs immobilized in what had become agonizing positions. The next, my freed skin ached where the tight ropes and chains had pressed too hard for far too long. Something felt soft and cool beneath me at the same time my aching bones and muscles insisted I was still tied, still lying on unforgiving concrete.

  Unintelligible sound washed over me, occasionally morphing int
o words whose meaning sometimes filtered through. Anger colored the tones and grief saturated the air, the first bludgeoning my over-sensitive awareness and the second making it hard to breathe. Even in my fugue, I was terrified the grief meant that Koda…that he hadn’t…

  I blanked out again, regaining marginal awareness when angry words, snarled in a harsh whisper, filtered through the tangle of sensations pummeling me. Someone cursed at someone else to hurry up and get the line in. Another person growled that he was trying and the added pressure wasn’t helping. Something about dehydration shrinking veins.

  It was just noise. The words and their meaning swam around in my ears, in my head, but I couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t force my mind to make sense of them. A sharp sting somewhere in my body added itself to the sensory overload, but I had no ability to figure out what hurt, let alone guess at what had caused it. Coolness followed the sting, flowing upward from the mild pain. It was everywhere, filling my perception of…everything. At the same time, it was nowhere, a phantom in my confused mind.

  The first voice said something like “more, faster,” and the second snapped “it’s already wide open.”

  The surface I was lying on rocked, jostling me, but my eyelids refused to open so I could see what had happened. Added to the sensations hammering me came the sense that someone—or something, whispered my gibbering instincts—was close by, leaning over me. As the coolness that had followed the sting flowed through my body…my awareness…my imagination, the sounds formed into sentences. Drifting as I was, their implications were inexplicable and bore no significance to me.

  “You should be back in bed,” the second voice said, a world of worry in his tone. “You’re not yet healed.”

  “She almost died trying to save me,” the first person answered in a tone so rough, so raw, its pain superseded the sounds and scents scouring me. “I will not leave her.”

  There was a long silence and then the sound of something heavy being dragged closer. The second voice spoke again. “Lie down before you fall down. Consider that an order.”

  The person-being-thing beside me moved, but I sensed didn’t go far. Something enfolded part of my body. Like a light switch being flipped off, all the craziness crashing around in my mind, flailing painfully against my senses, faded into insignificance. And I dared to wonder, to hope, that it was Koda beside me. I yearned to sit up, to open my eyes and freaking see, but my body was a lump of unresponsive flesh.

  “Remarkable,” the second voice said and I realized it belonged to Ahanu. “Your holding her hand calms her. That’s the first time she’s stopped thrashing and crying out.”

  Koda cursed, his voice strangled.

  Ahanu spoke from close by. “You have to believe me, brother. I had no idea Sephti was imprisoned. Not until an hour ago, when Waneta told me that he’d gone to tell her you’d regained consciousness. He found her like this. In a coma.”

  In the silence, I heard Koda’s tortured breathing. “She went before them unarmed. Principal Chief Waneta told you that.” He sneered the title.

  “Yes.”

  “Begging them to help me.”

  “Yes.”

  “And still, she was beaten and tied and thrown in that hole.”

  Silence reigned, even as the air grew thicker with rage and grief.

  “This isn’t who we are as a people,” Koda growled.

  Ahanu exploded. “What did you expect, brother? Whatever genetic test tube she was dreamed up in, she looks like a fae!”

  “We are better than this!”

  “With all their machinations and treachery, this is what the fae made us into!”

  “No!” Koda shouted. “It’s what we let them make us into!”

  Another long silence filled the room, then Ahanu muttered, “I cannot comprehend how it is you care for that creature.”

  “Then you are no better than the prejudiced bastards who damn near killed her.”

  “Prejudiced? You’re not serious—”

  “Have you done everything you can for her?” Koda interrupted in a harsh tone.

  “Yes, the IV drip will rehydrate her and the glucose should revive her.”

  “Should?”

  “Well, it’s not like I have a clue how a supernaturally bioengineered creature’s system works!”

  “She’s a person, Ahanu. Not a creature. A person.”

  “I only meant—”

  “I know damn well what you meant! Now get out. I’ll see to her myself.”

  There came the sound of a slamming door, then Koda singing from close by. His voice was weak but that it was his eased my confusion and soothed my raw senses.

  As I drifted off, this time into a peaceful, contented state, I felt a butterfly’s touch and recognized it as his sweet kiss on my forehead.

  “Come back to me, Sephti,” he whispered. “Please. Come back.”

  There was a long period of darkness and unknowing. A period in which I wasn’t.

  Then the click of a furnace coming on awakened me. My eyes opened the first time I tried, revealing a small room bathed in warm golden sunlight. A counter with a sink took up one narrow wall and a window occupied another. Waist-high cabinets filled a third, and through their glass doors, I could see syringes and bandages and others things I assumed had a medical purpose.

  I simply lay still, basking in the miracle of sight after so long in the dark. The respite was excruciatingly brief, though. My other senses woke up all at once and I stiffened at the jagged pain of returning sound and taste and sensation and smell, on top of way too much visual detail to take in.

  The ticking of air in the ducts. A dry bitterness filling my mouth, making me gag. The flutter of the almost transparent curtain. The weight of covers pulled up to my chin. The stinging scent of alcohol made sharper in contrast with the lingering musty concrete smell on the clothes I still wore…the sensory deluge was crushing.

  Make it stop! Make it stop! I screamed silently in the depths of my mind, my intellect and senses bound together in a miasmic, swirling nothingness that still, somehow, encompassed all of existence. I couldn’t comprehend it any more than I could wrestle myself free.

  Unable to move or to cry out, there was no escape, no way to elude the…everything burying me, suffocating me. I thought I’d go mad from it. Then I thought maybe I actually was mad, driven that way by…by…

  My eyelids fluttered closed and it all blessedly went away.

  When I opened them again, I felt more connected to my body. The things it was telling me were comforting in their familiarity and my ability to understand—the smooth cool feel of worn cotton sheets, the crisp scent of disinfectant, the lumpy softness of an old pillow, the warmth of a masculine hand in mine.

  I wanted my head to turn and felt a moment’s triumph when it did. On the right side of the narrow hospital bed I lay in was another just like it, holding a sleeping Koda. Our linked hands bridged the small space between the mattresses and I was careful not to move so I wouldn’t wake him.

  My heart constricted at his pale complexion, the deep circles beneath his eyes. He looked like he’d lost weight and his proud features were haggard, the cheekbones far too prominent. His sweater was gone and white bandages wrapped around his ribs and belly, covering the long gashes the wendigo had torn in him. I no longer smelled the stench of poison, but Koda’s condition told me the fight to survive the injuries had taken a lot out of him.

  The proof he lived filled me with such joy, I could barely breathe and I had to close my eyes again merely to focus on the effort. Air in, air out. Koda was alive. Air in, air out. Koda was okay.

  When I blinked my eyes open, he was watching me, a soft smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “That’s how I feel too. You’re alive.”

  It took me three tries to speak, so dry was my throat. It felt like I’d swallowed half the Mojave Desert. “I’m still…transparent?”

  He just smiled, tracing patterns on my palm with his thumb.

  Gathering my
strength for the effort, I sat up, having to clutch wildly at the bed rail to keep from falling.

  “You need to rest,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

  “I need…” I cleared my throat, trying unsuccessfully to wet my cracked lips.

  “Water?” Standing carefully, he lifted a full cup from the bedside table. With his arm braced around my shoulders, he held me steady while I gulped the delicious liquid down. No milkshake had ever tasted sweeter.

  Rubbing the back of my hand across my mouth, I nodded my thanks and finished my thought. “I need to get out of here.” Making it to my feet, I stood trembling and clinging to the bed’s rail while the room swooped around me.

  Koda set the empty cup back on the table. “I agree. It’s time we leave.” Moving like an old man, he began to unwrap the bandage from his ribs.

  Which brought my gaze to my own arm. Uncertain, I picked at the tape stuck in the crook of my elbow. A long piece of clear tubing ran from beneath it to a bag hanging from a pole attached to the bed. “What is this thing on me?” I scowled, my instincts rousing to find myself tethered.

  Koda tossed the last of his bandage on his bed and came carefully to my side. “It’s an IV.” At my quizzical expression, he said, “Intravenous feed.”

  “Oh! Like in the TV shows about hospitals.”

  He laughed but didn’t say anything as he removed the tape. He was moving slowly, but the jostling made the spot ache.

  “Intravenous?” I thought out loud, beginning to freak out. “Wait. There’s something inside me?”