by Kallysten
Above them, the second dragon was circling, keeping guard. Chris had no doubt people would soon come for them.
And he had no doubt they would blame him for this whole incident—as they should.
*
“Have you lost your damned mind as much as Marigold has?”
Although Lily Littlewings’ voice remained cool, the anger in her words was more than obvious. No, not anger; she was beyond that. Chris was only glad he wasn’t touching her right now. This kind of rage could be quite painful to experience directly, from mind to mind.
“You asked me to help her,” he objected. “That’s all I’ve been trying to do.”
She scowled at him. Standing behind an imposing wood desk, her hands pressed to the top as she leaned forward, she looked very much like the queen she denied she was. An angry queen, who’d had him brought to her home while Marigold, unresponsive once more, was taken to Sanctuary’s clinic for a checkup.
“Forgive me if I wasn’t clear enough,” Lily all but snarled. “I certainly never meant that you should take her for a little flight outside Sanctuary and have her set things ablaze willy-nilly.”
“It was just a spotlight,” he said, conscious even as he said it of the weakness of the argument.
Lily didn’t even bother telling him what she thought of that; she merely watched him over the rim of her tinted glasses, her expression icy.
“Did she hurt…”
He couldn’t finish. He’d seen it all, and there was no doubt in his mind that whoever had been directing that spotlight toward the sky was dead. But if he said the word, he’d have to admit to himself not only his own responsibility in the matter, but also his mate’s.
“Just one,” she replied icily. “A young man. We did our best, brought him inside the walls, but his burns were too severe.”
Chris inclined his head and sank a little deeper in the too-plush armchair in which Lily had demanded he sit. The leather of the back was sticking to his skin. No one had offered him a tee-shirt or anything else on his way to see Lily, not that he’d thought to ask for one. He’d been too worried about both Marigold and Isolda.
“Do you know...,” he started haltingly. “I mean, Isolda. The girl. Is she…”
Lily let out a deep sigh and finally sat across from him, her fingers steepled in front of her.
“The burns to her wing translated to burns to her left arm,” she said quietly. “That’s all I know so far. Why did you bring her to Marigold?”
“They’re sisters—”
“Yes I know that,” she interrupted. “Zita told me, as soon as you three took to the air. I mean, how could you be so careless? You’ve got an unstable dragon, and you just throw a little girl in the mix without giving it proper consideration first. A hundred things could have happened. And half of them could have been worse than what did actually happen.”
Part of Chris wanted to explain how excited he’d been to finally understand this bit of the puzzle, and to realize that he actually knew the child Marigold so longed to see. But something in Lily’s demeanor irked him. She was treating him as if he should have known better, as though it should have been obvious that taking Isolda to see Marigold was an awful idea.
The thing was, he wasn’t convinced he’d had any other choice. He would have needed to bring them together at some point, and when Lily herself had asked him to talk to Marigold, she’d told him her health was deteriorating and they needed to help her now.
“You know,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes in her direction, “from the start I told you I have no experience doing anything like this. I’d never entered the mind of someone who was anything less than perfectly sane. I don’t have any kind of psychological training, or at least nothing beyond the very basics I learned in my teaching program. What I do remember learning is that at the base, all of us have some needs. And one of the most important ones is that we need to feel safe. We need to know our loved ones are safe. With that in mind, I brought Isolda to Marigold so they’d both know the other was all right. I’m ready to admit it might not have been the best thing to do. But when you asked me to do this little favor for you, I don’t recall you telling me a team of psychotherapists would be there to help me with every question and decision. You thrust me into that situation and told me to do the best I could. Well, that’s what I’ve been doing. If my best isn’t enough, I’m not sure what else you expect me to do.”
Lily’s eyes flashed with annoyance and she pinched her lips so tightly together that they turned white. After a second or two, she started to relax. Finally, she let out a deep sigh.
“All right,” she said, but a knock interrupted her before she could say anything more.
Without waiting to be invited in, her daughter, Rose, entered the room. She was clad in black jeans and a black tee-shirt. Her expression was grimmer than her outfit.
“Police,” she said briskly. “At the westward gates. They’re demanding entry.”
A curse passed Lily’s lips, leaving Chris startled. Who knew that queens could swear so creatively?
“Go home,” she told him. “Get some rest. Marigold will be back home tomorrow, and I expect you’ll want to see her again.”
If that wasn’t an absolution for his mistakes, Chris didn’t know what it was. With a simple nod, he took his leave and walked back to the boarding house. Getting some rest, however, turned out to be impossible when the events of the day kept swirling in his mind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, only after a third cup of strong coffee did Chris start feeling somewhat human again. And only then did he finally start understanding what Steve and Seb were talking about. How they’d learned that the sheriff from the nearest town was demanding access to Sanctuary, he didn’t know, but they discussed it at length over breakfast. Chris kept his head down and didn’t mention the role he’d played in this turn of events.
When he finally went out, he walked to the center of town; like all important places, it seemed, the hospital was near the central square—although ‘hospital’ might have been an overly generous description of the one-story building and the four nurse practitioners that staffed it. When he asked after Isolda, he was told she’d already been sent home—as had Marigold.
His next stop was at the foster home, where Julie, when she opened the door, scowled at him and went on a five minute tirade about how irresponsible he was. He offered her his best contrite look, apologized when she finally let him put a word in edgewise, and asked to talk to Isolda to apologize to her, too.
“She’s still asleep,” Julie said, somewhat mollified. “We came home from the hospital pretty late last night.”
“How is she?” he asked, his guilt redoubling.
“They said the burns are superficial and she’ll be all right. The doctor is supposed to drop by later today to check on her again.”
Chris nodded, a little reassured. “Would you please tell her I came by, and that I hope she feels better soon?”
For a few seconds, Julie considered him in silence, and he wondered if she was about to start telling him off again.
“I’ll tell her you came,” she finally agreed, “but I don’t want to see you here again. And I won’t allow her to see her sister, not until she’s fully stable. I understand they’re family, but Marigold hurt her, and the fact that it was an accident doesn’t change that. I’m responsible for Isolda’s safety, and until I’m satisfied she’s completely safe around Marigold, I’ll do what I have to do.”
Chris merely inclined his head, and kept to himself his skepticism that Isolda would agree to stay away with no arguments. Julie could fight this battle for herself when it came; he had his own battles to face.
His bike was still on the minivan’s rack; he grabbed it on his way out, and biked to the cottage. He took his time getting there. He wanted to see Marigold, wanted to see the state of her mind after the events of the previous evening, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be worried about what h
e’d find. What if the whole incident had made her regress? What if hurting Isolda had damaged her already battered spirit a little more? Something else that would be his fault…
Zita was just about as happy to find him at her door as Julie had been. She refused to let him in, and he had to pull out his ace card again.
“Lily Littlewings asked me to continue. Call her, if you don’t believe me. Ask her.”
Zita slammed the door in his face.
When she opened it again a few moments later, she still had her phone in hand. It was with a scowl and ill grace that she let him in—but she did let him in, and that was all that mattered.
He found Marigold sitting on her bed, as usual. Despite the warm weather, a thick comforter was wrapped around her like a cocoon, leaving only her face exposed.
“She did that herself,” Zita said, and when Chris looked at her, she was frowning slightly.
Was it a good sign, he wondered as he approached Marigold and sat on the edge of the bed next to her, or was it a sign of regression?
There was only one way to find out.
He tugged lightly at the blanket until he could find her hand, and took it within his own. He closed his eyes as he entered her mind, already preparing for the usual fire and broken landscape. What he found, however, left him confused and disorientated.
The fire was gone. In its place stood tall walls of petrified glass, each thicker than his arm, and while some light filtered through, they were too opaque to see anything clearly behind them. He tried to walk through the opening between two of them, only to find more glass walls, lined up and forming narrow alleys that branched out here and there.
It was a maze, he suddenly realized. And still no sign of Marigold. Could she be lost in there? He had to find her.
He thought of calling out for her, but then realized he could do better than this. He didn’t dare simply take down the walls; Marigold hadn’t reacted well before when he tried to change her mental landscape, and after all he didn’t know what the walls might signify. But it was only a matter of thought for him to draw back, pull himself up and away until he had a bird’s eye view of what was indeed a maze, so intricate he couldn’t see its entrance.
Once he could see all of it, it didn’t take him long to find Marigold, sitting on the ground in a wide opening near the center of the maze. Before he joined her, he also noticed a few shadowy figures stalking within the walls. They didn’t seem to be working their way toward Marigold, but he had a feeling they’d be standing in front of her if she tried to find a path out of the maze.
Willing himself back into the maze, he approached Marigold from the nearest corridor, making sure to show his open hands and walk slowly so as not to startle her, the way he’d done when she appeared as a dragon.
“Hello Marigold,” he said softly to draw her attention to him.
Her head, which had been resting on her knees, drawn up in front of her, snapped upright at once, her eyes wide and startled. A deep rumble echoed through the maze, reverberating against the glass walls.
As he saw fear in her eyes, Chris stopped and stood still. Soon, the fear receded, leaving place to puzzlement.
“I know you,” she said quietly. “How do I know you?”
His heart jumped as he heard her speak. Trying to remain calm, he took a few slow steps forward.
“I’ve been visiting you for the past few days. My name is Chris.”
He’d told her his name before, and now, like then, he couldn’t help but wish she’d show him she recognized his name. As once more she wore little more than rags, he could easily see his own name on her wrist, even here where the person in front of him was only a mental representation of Marigold. It told him that, subconsciously, she considered her mate tattoo part of her identity. And still, there was no flicker of recognition when she heard his name.
“Can you help me?” she asked, standing gracefully in front of him. “I can’t find the way out. Every time I think I’ve found it, the monsters come back.”
Was it a good sign that she was asking for his help, or merely an indication that she wasn’t ready to help herself yet? Chris had no idea. From the first moment he’d entered her mind, he’d been out of his depth. He’d made mistakes—the last of which with terrible consequences. But she was asking for his help, and there was no way he could refuse.
“I will try,” he said as solemnly as he could. “I’ll keep doing my best to help you. But you have to try just as hard. You can’t run away again, whatever happens. All right? Can you promise me you won’t run away and hide? Will you shake on it?”
As he held out his hand to her, all he could do was hope.
Her hand shook a little when it rose, but it was steadier when it wrapped around his own.
*
Marigold held on to Chris’ hand longer than was strictly necessary to shake hands on a promise. She couldn’t help but watch his fingers wrapped around her hand, her own wrapped around his. It felt weird to be touching him like this, both because it had been a very long time since she’d touched anyone, and because the touch itself felt… strange. It was as though he was there and then not. And that realization itself was strange when she’d been unable to think for so long.
Finally letting go, she looked up from his hand to his face. He had a nice smile, nice strong features, deep eyes, all of it somewhat familiar, but also new. It was the same for his name. She thought maybe he felt familiar because he’d introduced himself before, but she couldn’t quite recall him doing so.
There were a lot of things she couldn’t recall at all, a lot of things that were only fuzzy memories… and many other things she could recall only too well. Mostly, those were things that had happened before she’d come here, wherever ‘here’ was, and—
At the thought of before, a monster appeared close to the nearest corner of the maze, its many-legged body indistinct behind the heavy glass, but unmistakably coming in her direction. Her heart tightened painfully and she shrieked. She started turning away, started reaching out for the dragon within her so she could shift and run away.
Chris stopped her with a few words.
“You promised you wouldn’t run.”
And she had, hadn’t she?
Giving her word had always been very important to her, because it was one of the very few things that were fully hers, and that no one could take from her. She didn’t promise things easily, but if she did, she did her best to follow through.
But sometimes even her best wasn’t enough, was it? She’d sworn to take care of Isolda, to keep her safe, and instead—
“Marigold? Are you still with me?”
She had to blink several times before she could see Chris in front of her, peering at her with obvious concern.
And behind Chris, held at bay by a cage of light, was the monster. One of the things that had haunted her for so long, it seemed like all her life.
She let out a little cry again and, without thinking, moved closer to Chris, pressing her face against his shoulder so she wouldn’t be able to see the monster anymore. She felt him freeze against her, and it was only after a few long moments that he closed his arms around her and held her.
She couldn’t remember the last person who’d held her like this.
No. That wasn’t right. She could remember. Isolda had hugged her just… Had it been yesterday? The day before? She wasn’t sure when, but she knew it had been recently.
And yet… she had lost Isolda, hadn’t she? She hadn’t seen her in years. It all felt so confusing!
Just feet away from her, the monster roared. She shuddered.
“Marigold,” Chris said in a soft voice that seemed to resonate at the very center of her mind, “You’re safe. Isolda is safe. You did see her recently, and you will see her again soon, but before that you need to get better. You need to face the monsters and banish them from your mind. Could you please try to do that for me?”
She wasn’t exactly certain what he meant by that, and she pu
lled back a little so she could say as much, but when she looked up and met his eyes, when she saw the confidence he was projecting toward her, the words remained stuck in her throat.
She barely knew this man, however familiar he felt, but somehow she found herself wanting to make him proud. If he wanted her to face the monsters… well, she could try. As long as he remained near her, she could.
She took a deep breath to steady herself before drawing out of Chris’ loose hug. Another breath, and she turned to face the monster. The golden cage still held him back, and she knew suddenly that Chris had built that cage to protect her—knew that she was safe, like he said.
Shaking, she looked at the monster straight on, at its grotesque features, small black eyes, lipless mouth full of sharp teeth, oversized hands and…
And the bland, normal features of a human appeared as all these faded away, leaving behind a slightly overweight young man with a crooked nose and a sneer on his face.
It was the sneer that did it, that opened the gates of her memories. The first scene lasted a few seconds, the man—the guard—helping someone else half-carry, half-drag her into a cell as she was too hurt, too tired to resist. A bright light melded the scene into something else: the same man injecting something into her arm as more hands held her down, something that filled her head with cotton and her body with lead, making it hard to think, to move, to do anything at all.
The scenes after that all merged into flashes of light and color, but she could still see each of them distinctly, could still remember the weight of his body, his putrid breath in her face, his grunts and laughter, her helplessness.
Tears rolled on her cheeks, burning and full of shame. The man—the thing—in the cage sneered at her, the way it always did.
When a hand brushed against her shoulder, she could have shrieked, but no sound came out of her. In the end, she’d learned it was useless to shout. No one would ever come for her.