Berg steps back, glaring. The Mistress touches his shoulder. "You don't have to stay, Berg."
"I said I would," he spits, looking away.
Merc laughs in his restraints, "Don't do me any favors, boy."
"Shut up, Merc," I grind out. He looks at me, and the amusement slips. Suddenly his fear is almost tangible under hisfaçade, and my breath catches. Wordless, I go to him, clenching his hand in mine. "Ready?" I ask.
He nods. There is a sudden sharp smell—antiseptic—and then a low whine, as the long, thick needle finds his vein. His grip tightens on my hand, and I feel the bones grinding together, as the Mistress injects the serum.
And then we wait.
**
For hours, nothing happens. I grow restless—shifting in my seat next to Merc. He's quiet, asleep.
"You care for him," Berg says, behind me. It is the first thing he’s said to anyone since the injection.
I withdraw my hand from Merc's grasp, flexing as blood rushes through my fingers. "He's a friend, Berg. Nothing more," I tell him.
"But there is one, who is more. Is it the one I fought?”
It isn't a question, but it irritates me nonetheless. Arjun is mine—and Berg is hardly in a position to be throwing stones. I twist to glare at him. "Do we have to do this? I'm going to the City—I'm choosing you. Just let it go. I don’t ask about her."
He seems startled, but doesn't push.
Merc makes a soft noise on the table, and I look back at him. The change is subtle—if I had not reached to push his hair from his face, I would not notice it.
Long brown fur comes away in a clump.
I stare at it, uncomprehending, before giving a questioning look to Berg and the Mistress.
An eerie scream, so shrill it makes my teeth hurt, rends the air. Merc's eyes are open, bulging, staring blindly at the ceiling as he arches against the restraints. Blood fills his mouth, choking off his scream in a terrible gurgle.
"Mistress," I shout, but there is no need—she's there, turning his head. The blood pours out, splattering the floor, staining my feet. It’s burning hot, splashing against my calves. There is a soft clatter, and I look closer—gleaming sharp teeth.
He screams again, an animal sound of pain and confusion. I hear a scream in the distance, musical and familiar. Arjun.
A whole body shudder racks his frame, and the scream dies off in a gurgle of pain. His eyes squeeze shut and I hear him say my name; see the shape of it on his bloody lips.
I stumble closer, touch Merc's shoulder, take his hand. "I'm here," I whisper. "It's almost over."
He whimpers, his whole body relaxing as the pain eases for a moment. And then it sweeps back, and I can see the reversal—his ears sinking into his head, the fur falling away. Bone white claws fall to the floor with a deadly rattle, his too long limbs seeming to shift and contort. It's painful to watch, and I want desperately to turn away. The only thing that does not change is his eyes. Frantic, trusting, they stay on mine, pleading. And I step closer, force a smile past the urge to throw up. "I'm here," I murmur, reassuring him.
Time passes, a blur of pain and blood. He throws up, so many times I lose count. My dress is soaked with sweat—mine—and the blood that splashes from him to me. At some point, Berg tries to get me to leave. It makes Merc frantic, but he is so wrapped in pain that his protest is lost in an unintelligible whimper.
“Just go eat.” Berg pleads, “He’s through the worst of it, and you’ll do him no good if you’re dead on your feet.”
I shake my head, stubborn. “Not until it’s over,” I slur, pushing Berg away. Merc’s eyes close in relief as I take his hand again. For a few minutes, he is able to relax, the pain easing. It gives us all a chance to breathe. And then his muscles spasm again, changing, shifting. And the cycle of pain begins again.
Chapter 22
“I don’t like it,” Berg says.
I swallow the bread I’m chewing and glare at him. “I don’t give a damn,” I snap. “You’re not going.”
I know I should gentle my tone—the hurt look in Berg’s eyes tells me so—but after the past three days, I am too tired, and too tense. I want Berg to shut up. I want this to be over.
Merc laughs hoarsely. “I wouldn’t argue with her, Berg.”
I spare him a glance. Berg has given him a pair of trousers that hang loosely on his hips and a well-worn shirt that is too tight in the shoulders.
In some ways, Merc is still the same—his lazy slouch as he eats, his eyes half-lidded as he watches us. The long hair that flops into his eyes is the same color as his fur, although the rough texture has smoothed and thinned somewhat. But other things are different: his mouth is flat and even, generous lips curving in a smirk that is both odd and familiar. His hands seem to surprise him—I see him pause for a fraction too long when reaching for his water, staring at them as if they belong to someone else. The claws are gone. Ears that pricked in response to every sound have faded, been reabsorbed into his skull.
If I had not met him before today, I would not know he had once been a ban-wolf.
“I don’t need your opinion, thanks,” Berg says stiffly. “I know her better than you could ever hope to.”
Merc gives him a quizzical look, and then grins at me. “I see why you’d pick this one. His sunny disposition puts all others to shame.”
I choke on the eggs I’ve just put in my mouth and Berg jerks to his feet. “You bastard,” he snarls.
Merc’s eyes glint, and I put a hand on his arm. “Stop pushing him,” I order. He gives me a mocking smile, but relaxes into his chair. “Berg,” I say, turning to him, “can you check on the Mistress?”
He glares but doesn’t say anything as he rises from the table and stalks from the room.
I let a sigh out. My head is pounding, and every inch of me aches. The past three days seem to have lasted an eternity. Merc is quiet, but I can feel his eyes boring into me, so heavy they make my hands shake.
"What?" I finally snap, looking at him.
"We'll leave today," he says gently. It's true. I've known it’s coming—we have already kept Arjun and Merc here longer than is safe for either of them. Arjun has been hiding in almost plain sight for the past three days, while Merc worked through the reversal. Every time I see Keepers in the distance, my heart stops.
But Merc needed the time to recover. The serum was devastating, but successful.
"I know," I say.
He sighs, and looks away, leaning forward to steal a piece of sausage from my plate. I would protest, but the truth is I don't have the energy—or desire. His blunt reminder has made my mouth go dry and I push my plate at him.
"You need to unpack your bag,” he says, and it is so out of place that I actually look at him. It's strange, to stare at him and see the eyes of a ban-wolf staring at me from the face of a human. I realize that I have been unconsciously avoiding it.
He grins at me, and I roll my eyes. "I'll get right on that, Merc."
The Mistress hurries into the kitchen, a waterproof bag hanging heavy from her hand. Berg follows reluctantly.
They have been busy these past three days. When it became apparent that Berg's serum would work, Mistress went into a flurry of preparation, making as many vials of it as humanly possible in the window of time they had.
"The instructions are in here," she says, handing Merc the bag. She hesitates, and Merc smiles at her, lazy and curious. "Tell them I'm sorry,” she blurts. "It wasn't my idea—or intention. I know that doesn't make it forgivable, but I am sorry."
Anger flits across Merc's face so quickly that no one notices but me.
Gwen enters the kitchen, and he straightens. I hide my grin; I wonder if he even realizes it. She smiles, coming to stand in front of him. She checks his pulse and listens to his breathing, and finally nods. "I'm not sure where you came from, but you'll do just fine,” she says, shooting an irritated look at the Mistress.
I feel a pang—I wish we could tell Gwen the truth about our u
northodox guest. But the Mistress firmly forbids it, and I am skating on thin ice as it is.
“With the new supply of starrbriars, I’ll be able to make more of the serum,” she says, and Merc nods.
“We’ll be back for it.” He glances at me, waiting, and I take a deep breath.
The Mistress looks at me, and something like sorrow and understanding fills her eyes. "Take your time, Sabah."
Berg growls and Merc smiles, a grimace of bared teeth—despite the reversal, much of the wolf remains.
I glare at Berg and tug Merc out of the kitchen. A fight between them, after three days of uneasy truce, seems like something we should avoid.
The air is crisp, and bracing. An eerie scream comes from the darkness to hit me like a fist in the gut. We both pause, looking around. "It'd be useful to have my vision, still," Merc says, peering into the blackness.
I make a noise of agreement. The walk to the river bend is quick and quiet—both of us are absorbed in our own thoughts. Arjun is sitting on a rock and he stands slowly as we approach. It is the first time he has seen Merc since the change, and I see the shock in his eyes as he takes in his friend.
It is Merc, of course, who breaks the silence. “Stop staring. We need to get moving.”
Arjun’s eyes dart to me, and he nods. Merc wraps me in a hug, and murmurs in my ear, “Think, sweetheart—don’t forget to think about what was said.”
I don’t want to—but there is no way to say that, so I nod and he releases me.
“I’ll wait for you,” he tells Arjun, gesturing vaguely at the darkness.
We’re both quiet after Merc leaves. The air is stinging, and it is suddenly impossible to breathe—this is the last time I will ever see him.
He’s watching me, his golden eyes roving my face, as if committing it to memory. “You’ll be careful,” I say, my voice shaking.
He nods, and opens his arms. I’m not aware of moving, but they close around me, anchoring me. I choke down my emotions, and hear him murmur, “Be safe, Sabah. Promise me you’ll be safe.”
I nod, and he lifts my head up. He’s shaking; his hands actually tremble on my neck. The kiss is so soft, so gentle. I memorize the feel of his lips, the feel of his long, strong body pressed against me, the tickle of his hair as the wind brushes it along my skin. The taste of him, his smell—everything. Too soon, he’s pulling away. It’s not enough—the memories I have aren’t enough for a lifetime. I want to scream as he turns me.
“Go inside,” he forces out and I bolt. I can feel his eyes on me, tracking my movements to the Manor.
I’m inside when my tears begin to fall. I can almost feel my heart shattering—an echoing crack that drowns out everything. I collapse in the kitchen, curling on my side as my pain and grief overwhelm me. Distantly, I hear Kaida screaming my name, Gwen’s alarm. I feel Berg lifting me up and carrying me away.
I’m listening, above their voices and the sound of my heart breaking, for a musical scream. A cry of grief that echoes my own.
But it never comes.
Part 4.
The City.
Chapter 23
"You have to get up."
Kaida's voice is firm, and I pry my eyes open to glare at her. "I don't want to."
"You still have to," she says imperiously, tapping her foot. "Mistress has had us cleaning all day—she's making an announcement at last meal, and she wants you there."
I rub my eyes, and sit up. How long has it been?
"A week," she says, looking away. I don’t realize I had voiced the question until she answers it.
I wonder where Arjun is—has he made it to his City? The thought of him makes me want to collapse back on my bed, but there is a determination in Kaida's eyes that tells me she'll throw a fit if I even try. I push my blankets back, and stretch. "What time is it?"
She wrinkles her nose. "Mid-day. You need a bath before you go wandering the house."
I stick my tongue out at her, surprising a giggle from her. It makes me smile, albeit weakly. She hugs me, hard. "I'm sorry, Sabah."
I pat her back, fresh tears stinging my eyes. I feel like I have done nothing but cry for days.
Maybe because I haven't.
**
Water cascades around me, and my thoughts—as always—are tugged to Arjun. What, I wonder, would he do if he knew I was like this? That I was this depressed?
I can almost see the disappointment filling his golden eyes--the incredulous disbelief in Merc's. Even the disdain in Rook's.
It makes me flush. They thought better of me. They sent me home, in search of a cure they had been unable to gain on their own. My shoulders twitch, straighten. I had done what the oh-so-strong pack could not.
If I could face the Mistress and defy her, survive Outside, couldn't I do this? What was surviving heartbreak and the Commission, in comparison?
I straighten, my muscles loosening deliciously under the hot spray. My heart still hurts, and when I lick my lips, I can taste him—a phantom kiss—lingering there. I close my eyes; shake my head. Those thoughts won't help me.
Merc swims in my memory for a moment, lazy and mocking, You promised to think.
I shut off the water angrily, wishing it would shut off his words.
Kaida is sitting in the hallway with Cedric. She smiles at me, a pleased smile. A familiar bag sits in Cedric's lap.
"I thought you'd want it," he says, toying with the broken strap.
I feel a pang. Does he realize that it holds no memories for me? The one memento I have is on my wrist, a supple bracelet shackling me to my memories.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, taking the bag as Kaida hops to her feet. She helps Cedric stand, hands him a cane—he will never fully recover from the shattered leg that is his legacy from the Mistress' obsession.
"The older girls are in the library. The rest are in the greenhouse. Berg and Spiro are hunting, and the Mistress is in her quarters."
I grin at Kaida's recitation. "And how did you two manage to wiggle out of chores?" I ask.
Cedric snorts. "No one else wanted to drag you out of your room."
Kaida gives him a dirty look, but I appreciate his honesty. It’s refreshing in this house of secrets.
“What do you suppose the Mistress wants?” Kaida asks, tilting her head.
I shrug, but I know. It can be only one of two things—to announce finding the garden, or to tell the children that Berg and I are leaving.
I stare at Kaida and Cedric, the way they seem to lean toward each other, supporting each other without touching. I’ve seen them act the same when Guin is around, effortlessly working him into their self-contained world.
“What happened, when I was Outside?” I ask.
Kaida exchanges a long look with Cedric. “It’s not important,” she says, her voice suddenly steely.
I meet her glare—she’s good at it, but she learned it from me. Cedric sighs. “Berg shut down. He quit hunting, quit reading, quit sleeping. He stayed in your garret all hours of the day. Even the Mistress couldn’t get through to him. And she was depressed, too. Alba stepped in, but she…” he trails off.
“She can’t do what you did,” Kaida says flatly. “The twins were being neglected, the house was in chaos—lessons stopped completely. So we,” she nods to indicate Cedric and I know Guin is also included, “stepped up. Helped Gwen and Cook. I took care of the twins, Guin started lessons for all of us, or tried. Alba, Dayila, and Lilith stayed away as much as possible.” She shrugs, as if their behavior was acceptable.
I stare at them—children. That I left them alone now seems inexcusable. They deserved better than this. Kaida should not have to grow up this fast. None of them should.
Kaida touches my shoulder, and smiles at me, a knowing smile. “We did what we had to,” she says. “And now you’re home.”
I nod, feeling so guilty, I am surprised I can stand. How long, I wonder, until I abandon them again? It’s the price I willingly offered for the cure—the cure the man who aba
ndoned me needed.
What does that say about me?
Cedric and Kaida go in search of Guin, and I take the bag to my room. I let it spill open on the bed, and wonder what to do with this mess—pack it all up? Throw it away? Most of it belongs to Berg. There is a scrap of paper, neatly folded. It rests on top of my water pure, and it more than anything catches my attention. I do not remember it.
An unfamiliar hand has scribbled on the outside of the paper:
When you’re ready, when you’ve listened to what he said. Not until then.
It can only be Merc. It sounds like him.
I begin to open it when I remember the hurt look in his eyes, the night of the acidstorm. Whatever this is, he trusts me to wait until I am ready. And I know that I am not.
I wonder if I ever will be.
**
Berg looks tired. I notice it as we sit, the children unnaturally quiet, waiting for the Mistress. Cook is humming softly as she and Gwen carry food to the table.
The Mistress comes in quietly, murmurs to Cook, and takes her seat at the head of the table. All eyes are drawn to her, and I am somewhat surprised by this woman. After everything I have learned, all the secrets that have shaken our lives in the past weeks, I still admire her and her strength that never seems to fail. She gestures for Cook to wait and leans forward.
“As you are all aware, Sabah reached Majority while she was away,” Mistress says. A feeling of finality settles on me as I realize what announcement she is making. I suppress a sigh. “I know there has been speculation as to what would happen then.”
Alba straightens in her seat—she will reach Majority next, almost seven months from now.
“Some of you have gathered that despite my Exile, the Commission humors me on occasion. Before Longest Night, I had Berg tested at the University.”
I glance at him—he’s staring at his empty plate.
Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Page 19