I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. My mouth opened wider as it strained against the agony that consumed me. The rest of my body remained still, even though my insides felt like they were writhing, twitching and contorting with the pain. My mouth continued to open in a silent scream as my vision began to fade in and out of blackness.
I could feel my body giving out, and sadly, I didn’t mind. The warmth I had felt before, the warmth that reminded me so much of Ryland, continued to move through me, the warm feeling intensifying into a numbing sensation that spread through my body like water. Although I could still feel the pain—the burning agony—I didn’t care so much anymore.
Something around my neck pulled me, and I felt my body being dragged across the uneven gravel of the alley, my limp frame shaking and rattling against loose stones. My shirt ripped and tore against the rough stones, pieces falling away to reveal skin that I was sure was getting scratched and cut against the sharp gravel.
My vision faded in again as I was dragged into the shelter behind a large dumpster. Something heavy crashed against my feet, the weight twisting my body at an odd angle that I was happy I couldn’t feel. I looked around, desperate to see who or what had pulled me into the shadows, but found nothing.
My vision kept threatening to fade out again, but I fought it, desperate to see what was going on. The sweet-and-sour smell of garbage filled my nostrils and gave me something else to focus on in the effort to stay conscious.
The steady sound of footsteps on crunching gravel filled the alley, the thudding of heavy feet running along the broken surface of the asphalt vibrating in my head. I listened as the steps grew louder, angry voices accompanying them. My head swam with sound and the vibration; the agony within my skull swelling with the new pain. My vision, and now my hearing, continued to fade as I fought against the blackness that was trying so hard to take me.
“He is going to pay for this!”
“…already is, mostly dead anyway…”
“If only… dead… get his car…”
Their voices faded in and out so fast, I could barely make out what the angry men were saying. I watched as two pairs of shoes ran past the dumpster, the vibrations beginning to lessen as they moved away from me.
They hadn’t found me, but I was still dying behind a dumpster.
I lay amongst the garbage for who knows how long, my body unable to move, my vision and hearing blacking in and out frequently. I knew I only had a matter of minutes left; I could feel everything giving out in an undeniable finality.
Suddenly, the weight on my feet lifted and I heard a sigh of relief behind me. I couldn’t turn to see who it was, but my muscles tightened in fear.
The dumpster that lay beside me moved to the other side of the alley, the heavy box making very little noise. The soft crunching of feet moved closer before carefully torn jeans kneeled down and a soft hand came to rest on my cheek. My vision gave way as I felt the person’s warm hands move underneath my limp body and lift me to a hard chest.
“Don’t worry, Silnỳ,” a heavily accented voice said. “I’ve got you.”
Ilyan had found me.
Twenty-Six
Joclyn
I could have sworn I was flying. I could feel the wind whip through my hair, the calm sensation of rising and falling evident as we moved. I could very well have been running, although being held while someone else ran tended to be a jostling experience. What I felt now was smooth and calming, like a gentle rocking.
The wind in my hair ceased as the rocking motion stopped and I felt a subtle drop as Ilyan sat down, lowering me onto his lap, his folded legs were under my body as he laid me against them. It felt as if my body had been attached to someone else’s, and I was only getting brief explanations of what I should be feeling.
“Come back to me now, Silnỳ,” Ilyan crooned, his hand smoothing my hair. “I need you to see me.”
Although I knew my eyes were open, I still wasn’t seeing anything. My vision had blacked out shortly after Ilyan had found me.
Ilyan moved my head gently, placing it in a more comfortable position against his leg, so that I could see him, I assumed. Still, there was only black. My body continued its attempt to drag me into death, but I didn’t take notice of its attempts, thanks to the overwhelming numbness that consumed me. Ilyan exhaled as he ran his fingers down my neck, tracing the silver chain of my necklace.
“Joclyn,” Ilyan whispered reverently. “I need you to focus on my hand. Focus on my hand against your cheek. We have to do something, and it is really going to hurt.”
Hurt? How could anything hurt? I felt so numb.
“Bratr,” Ilyan said, and for one fleeting second I was terrified that someone else had found me, but Ilyan’s voice was smooth and calm. Who else was here?
“Bratr,” he repeated, “I have her now; I need you to release her.” He paused as if waiting for a response, but none came.
“Listen to me, please,” Ilyan pleaded. “I cannot save her if you don’t let her go. I will protect her and keep her safe. But please, let her go. Let me save her life and give you the opportunity to save yours.” Still he waited, but nothing happened; no one responded to his pleas.
“She is dying, as are you. You must trust me.”
I felt my heart go into overdrive. Dying? Of course I knew it was true. In fact, I would have gladly chosen death not more than a few moments ago.
Ilyan waited before exhaling deeply, as if he had received a response.
“Focus on my hand, Joclyn.” Ilyan had a panicked edge in his voice that jerked my mind right back to him. “I’m right here.”
I couldn’t understand why he was so panicked or what was so scary, until I began to feel it. First, Ilyan’s concerned face swam into view as my vision returned, his hand plastered against my cheek. Soon after, the numbness began to dissipate. As it moved out of me, the intense pain of before began to come back. I felt it first in the tips of my fingers and toes then it moved up my arms and into my legs. A loud wailing filled my ears, the deep melancholy sound seeming to fully embody how I felt. It was filled with such sadness and heartbreak it rattled in my bones. My eyes darted around, desperate to find the owner, but instead only found Ilyan, his lips a hard line.
It was my own scream.
It took me a moment to realize what else was leaving my body; the warmth. The warmth which reminded me so much of Ryland was leaving right behind the numbness. It sucked itself away from me, until I felt nothing but pain and loneliness. My mouth opened further as my agonizing screams mixed with my tears. The pain, combined with the loss, created an emotional tidal wave that was too much for me to handle. I could feel my body begin to shut down.
My screams began to lessen as I let the endless nothingness that had stayed hidden off to the side of my consciousness cover me like a blanket. The blackness wasn’t as nice as the numbness I had felt, but it still took the edge off the pain. It seemed to tell me to just give up, and I wanted to, so badly.
“Má ruka!” Ilyan practically yelled. “Focus on my hand!”
I forced my eyes back to his and tried to move my mind away from the comfortable blackness I had let take over and onto the hand I felt cupping my cheek. My screams decreased as I focused on him, finally coming out in panicked puffs.
A new warmth began to fill me; it radiated out from where Ilyan’s hand rested on my cheek and filled my entire body. Although it felt the same as the warmth I always felt from Ryland, something was different and drastically wrong. My mind and body began to fight against it.
“Don’t fight me, Joclyn,” Ilyan pleaded. “You have to let me in.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about; my heart seized in panic as my cloudy brain tried to grasp hold of understanding.
“Let me in,” he whispered.
Could he possibly mean that the warmth was him?
The warmth continued to spread throughout me, followed closely by the numbness I had only recently lost. I welcomed
the numbing, glad that the pain was sweeping away into memory. I kept my eyes on Ilyan as the pain faded; desperately wishing I could clutch myself to him and demand answers. I wished I could yell and fight, or simply disappear. Nothing in my body worked properly; nothing moved and no words came.
Ilyan moved his hand away from my legs and produced a cell phone, leaving my limp body to fall like a ribbon over his folded legs. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear, all the while his hand never left my cheek.
“Get me Ovailia.” There was a pause after he spoke as he waited for this ‘Ovailia’ to take the phone. When she did, his voice transferred into his native language. The words were full of consonants and deep sounds that rumbled in the night air.
My mind wandered off at the sounds, my fuzzy brain not able to understand anything that was being said. It was easier to not focus on anything and instead let myself drift off into the nothingness. I wasn’t in pain now; it almost seemed like the blackness wanted me even more.
“Stay with me, Joclyn.” Ilyan’s voice broke off from his foreign chatter, the change in tongue bringing my mind back. “Focus on my hand. Focus on my voice.” He stared at me intently while waiting for me to agree.
“Ovailia,” he continued into his phone, “we will be returning home within the week. I need to get her body healed enough to travel.” He paused as the person on the other side of the line spoke. I felt my heart soar at the talk of healing me. A hospital and a shot of morphine sounded just about right.
“Tell Talon I will keep her safe.”
Talon? Wasn’t that Wyn’s boyfriend?
“No! Everyone needs to stay where they are. It is only going to cause problems if they empty the motel.”
More mumbled chatter for the phone.
“Ovailia,” Ilyan snapped, and his accent increased, making his voice difficult to understand. “I ‘ave levt zoo in sharge, ind iv zoo canoot keep zings usser constrol for vun veek vifout my prezzanse ve vill haff to reffink zis arrangement. Iz zat clear?”
He snapped the phone shut and huffed angrily. Even through his angry rant, his hand had remained soft on my cheek.
“You’re lucky you don’t have a sister,” he said, his accent lessened. I was confused. I thought Wyn was his sister; perhaps this Ovailia was their sister, too, and they just never mentioned her.
An uncomfortable pain seized through my spine, and my body moved involuntarily.
“We have to move.” Ilyan stated, looking away from me in expectation. He flipped open his phone again and dialed a number.
“Wynifred?”
Wyn? My heart beat erratically at her name.
“We will be there in about an hour. We are in Sunnyvale.”
Sunnyvale? But that was at least a two hour drive. How did we get here?
“I took us here to break the trail, but we cannot stay here long. She is very greatly injured. I need you to draw a bath.”
A bath? Wasn’t he taking me to the hospital?
He snapped the phone shut and placed it back into his pocket.
“Joclyn? We are going to have to move. I know you probably really want to go to sleep right now, but you can’t. Try to focus, all right? Focus on me; focus on my voice. You need to stay awake, for Ryland.”
“Ryland?” My voice came out like a sob; in fact, I was surprised I had even spoken at all.
“Yes, Joclyn, for Ryland. You need to stay awake for him. Can you do that?”
I stared at him intently, hoping my expression would display the yes I felt in my heart.
“Good girl, Silnỳ.”
Ilyan shifted his weight and moved my rag doll form into his arms, his hand never once leaving my skin. He moved smoothly, his body rocking and jostling me around with each step he took. This sensation was so much different than before; I could feel every step, every time his foot hit the ground.
The steps and swaying increased significantly before the wind returned and the rough movements stopped. I watched through open eyes as stars, street lights and buildings soared past us, faster than I thought possible, the shining orbs becoming blurs in my line of vision. The wind in my hair relaxed me even further and I felt myself move into the ever-present blackness once again.
No! I needed to stay awake for Ryland… and for me. I would never be sure, but I swear my arm jumped uncontrollably as I tried to force myself out of the comfortable warmth that the blackness provided.
“It’s okay, Silnỳ,” Ilyan said, his accent rolling out his vowels again.
I wanted to believe that it was okay, but everything was so confusing. Even in my foggy, hazy mind, I was having trouble understanding what was going on. I couldn’t get the images of flying furniture, my aggressive attackers and my mother’s body out of my mind. My heart shuddered at the thought of my mother’s limp form. It sounded more like I called out to her. Ilyan looked down at me, shocked to see me looking at him.
“Your mother?”
My eyes grew wider.
“I’m sorry, Joclyn. I wish I would have gotten there earlier. I wish I could have saved her.” He looked down at me again, and I saw the sympathy hidden in the chasm of his eyes.
My whole world had broken apart in one wild blow.
The truth of Ilyan’s words was a wrecking ball against my soul. I saw her frozen body in my mind, and I knew he was telling the truth. She was gone. Even though my brain accepted it, my heart simply wouldn’t. It fought and screamed inside my broken body. It begged me to hit and yell, and beg to know that Ilyan was lying. I could almost feel my body jolt as I attempted to act out what I needed to do.
“Calm, Joclyn. I need you to stay still. Try not to think about anything now. We will have time for questions and answers when your body is healed.” Ilyan exhaled sharply. That wasn’t going to be easy.
I wanted to yell, and cry, and demand answers all at the same time; but in the end, it was just another pain to add to all the others that encompassed me, and the numbness swept it away.
Ilyan’s hand ran comfortingly against the bare skin of my back. The warmth inside me increased and my mind became fuzzy, Ilyan’s touch taking everything away.
The wind across my face made me think of my many trips up the canyon with Ryland. I loved to roll the window down all the way and feel the air across my face, smell the scent of the trees, the water, the fresh mountain air; they all had a magic of their own. That’s what this reminded me of—magic.
The wind decreased to nothing as Ilyan’s feet hit against something hard and brought us to a stop. I recognized the balcony door of Wyn’s apartment immediately. The large couch and overstuffed chair sat exactly where they had been only yesterday.
“It’s probably best if you don’t see Wyn right now.” Ilyan’s hand covered my face and lowered my eyelids. “It may only upset you more.”
I felt him take a step forward and then heard the click of the patio door as it shut and locked us into the apartment. Wyn’s frantic steps came up in front of us. I tried desperately to open my eyes, but the lids wouldn’t budge.
“Oh! Goodness, please tell me she is alive, Ilyan?” Wyn’s voice was panicked and deep, but something else had changed. I could almost detect a hint of an accent, an accent almost identical to Ilyan’s. I almost didn’t recognize her voice.
“She can hear you, Wynifred; please watch your tones.”
“I don’t see how that matters anymore, My Lord. Your little cover has been blown wide open.”
Ilyan grunted angrily.
My Lord? My mind flashed to the text message. I knew I had missed something, but my fuzzy brain couldn’t place anything together properly.
“The bath is drawn,” the distorted voice of Wyn continued.
“Seal the door,” Ilyan commanded before walking away, his arms holding me tightly to his chest.
“What happened, Ilyan?” I heard Wyn’s strange voice come up from behind.
“I’m not exactly sure. All I know is that Cail and Drummond were trying to kill her.” Ilya
n’s voice sounded like poison.
“Cail?” Wyn snapped, her voice full of malice.
I heard a door open and we moved into a humid room, the air strong with a deep smell of lavender, lilac, sandalwood and mint. Ilyan bent down and laid me on the bathroom floor, the tiles hard and cold against my bare skin and through my torn shirt. He shifted his hand from my back to my face, his hand never losing contact with my skin. Another set of feet entered the room, the impact vibrating the floor.
“Close and seal the door, Wynifred. I don’t want anyone to hear her screams.”
Screams? What was going on? I tried to pull understanding through my fuzzy mind, but nothing came.
“How did they find out about her mark?”
“I have no idea. But if it wasn’t for Ryland saving her life and Jeffery finding us, she would be in much worse condition.”
Jeffery? My father?
“It’s a miracle she is still alive.”
“Ryland? How did he…?” Wyn spluttered.
A strong hand gripped my shirt tightly and gave it one sharp tug. I felt the few strands of fabric that remained untorn from the alley give way as my top was ripped from me and the shirt cast away.
“That’s how,” Ilyan sighed, his voice oddly reverent.
Wyn said something in Czech that I didn’t understand.
“You need to be careful with the pants,” Ilyan instructed her. “If you jostle her spine too much, it won’t heal correctly.”
I didn’t even have time to think about lying in my underwear on the bathroom floor in front of Ilyan before he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Joclyn. I have to bring the pain back, but it’s only for a moment. We will both be right here with you the entire time.” Ilyan didn’t even give me time to respond; he simply removed his hand from my face and the warmth and numbness disappeared instantly. It wasn’t like before when the pain built into a rage; this pain flooded through me in an instant and I found myself screaming in agony, my immovable body desperately trying to escape the torture I was trapped in.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 19