“He hasn’t been sleeping or eating. I bring him food and he pushes it away, like seeing it makes him feel sick,” she replied. “When he’s weak, Kadar takes over, and that’s when the pain comes.”
I nodded. “That must be hard on you, dealing with all of that by yourself.”
“I’ve got Slinky’s help.” She sagged against the bed. “Thank you for helping him, by the way. I know I’m bitchy with you sometimes, but he’d be… I can’t even say it. He’d be… gone if you hadn’t stepped in. So thank you. I mean it—thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” I processed that for a moment. How often did Santana give me sincere appreciation? I wanted to absorb it, just this once. “Has either of them mentioned anything to you about where this pain and sickness is coming from?” I knew by now that it was Erebus, but I wanted to find out if Kadar had mentioned anything about the Child of Chaos to Santana.
She shot me a cold stare, her mood switching faster than lightning. “Why are you so interested? Is this some Erebus bullcrap? If it is, and you’re involved, you best believe I’ll strangle you into next year.”
“I just wanted to make sure he was okay!” I replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Again, why? What does this have to do with you? I know you’re not telling me something, and I want to know what it is.” Her tone hardened. “Is this some Erebus stuff?”
I shifted to face her. “Look, I’m concerned about Raffe and Kadar because the djinn are linked to Erebus. So, yes, in that sense, but there’s nothing seedy to me staying here with them. I want to help if I can. So, why don’t you tell me everything that you’ve seen and heard, and let’s see if we can work this out together?”
Santana glanced back at Raffe, and her shoulders relaxed. “It came out of nowhere. One day, he was fine, and then… it took hold of him, like a fast-working fever.”
“Has he spoken about Erebus before?” I pressed.
“No, that was news to me,” she said. “Maybe we should talk outside. I want to speak to you properly, but all I can think about is Raffe when I’m in here.”
I smiled. “You read my mind.” If we left the infirmary, maybe Erebus wouldn’t be able to hear what I said. Unless he had another djinn hiding in the shadows. Either way, I’d be more comfortable away from this djinn.
Together, we left and walked a fair way up the hallway before Santana halted. Her expression shifted. Gone was the quiet suspicion and sad gratitude, replaced by a firecracker’s sparking anger.
“Seriously, what’s with the secrecy, Finch? Why won’t you let anyone help you? You clearly need it—I mean, look at you! You don’t look much better than Raffe.”
“I’ve been running around—”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea how freaked we all were when you vanished without a trace and didn’t tell anyone where you were? We thought you were dead, Finch! Harley went to pieces. She was ready to call the president and send every Earth magical and Geode in the United States to Russia to dig out your body.”
I winced. Harley hadn’t mentioned that.
Santana shook her head. “Over and over, Harley said, ‘We have to bring him home. Even if he’s dead, we have to bring him home. I have to say goodbye.’ Tobe sat with her in his arms for hours, singing to her. Nothing else calmed her down. Why do you think she got so overwhelmed by Wade’s proposal? Tobe singing probably brought it all back. She had Tatyana on standby to speak to your spirit.”
I stared at her, gobsmacked. What could anyone say to that? And she wasn’t done tearing me a new one.
“You saw what I was like tonight, when I thought I might lose Raffe. Well, Harley was exactly the same,” Santana continued furiously. “And, dios mio, why are you getting Ryann—a freaking human—involved? She was almost as bad as Harley. In fact, I think she only tried to hold it together for Harley’s sake. And Saskia, while I’m at it. She’s Tatyana’s baby sister, for crying out loud. Are you insane?”
Guilt, shame, anger, sadness—it all rushed through me in a torrent. It hurt more than I could describe. Just thinking about Harley sobbing into Tobe’s arms, saying she wanted to say goodbye to me, made me sick to my stomach. I’d done that to her.
This is what they really think about you, Finch. They think you’re only out for yourself. And you’re not exactly proving them wrong. If I could’ve reached into my skull and ripped out every last dark thought, I would’ve. Even if it killed me. This was the pain Kadar meant. This was unbearable hopelessness, live and in vivid Technicolor. No matter how many Katherines I killed, or what I gave up, it didn’t matter. Everyone’s first assumption was selfishness. Nobody expected me to do anything for their sake instead of mine.
“Do you really think I wouldn’t have phoned, or walked through a chalk door, or done something to let her know I was okay, if I could’ve?” I fired back, my friendliness gone. “Do you think I wanted Ryann involved? Or Saskia, for that matter? I care about them all. If I could have, I’d have kept right on doing things solo, but I reached a point where it wasn’t possible anymore. I tried… but I couldn’t do it alone. I would be dead if I had, though maybe you’d prefer that? Seriously, Santana, do you think so little of me that you believe I’d willingly bring them into this disaster?”
It was her turn to look dumbfounded. In fairness, I wasn’t entirely shocked to get an earful. Both Harley and Tatyana must have mentioned their issues with me before, while I’d been gone. And Santana had obviously been their go-to. But I was in no mood to explain myself and have my character smeared by Santana. Not now.
“I… I don’t think badly of you at all. I just want to understand what’s going on. You weren’t here. You didn’t see what everyone was like, and it truly sucked, Finch.” She managed to find an answer, her tone softening slightly.
“And I’m telling you, I wish I had been here. I didn’t ask for any of this.” I balled my hands into fists, knowing if I went too far, I wouldn’t be able to take it back. “I’ve done my damnedest to keep everyone safe. And you and I might not always see eye to eye, but you’re included. I’d fight tooth and nail to make sure you, and everyone else in this place, don’t have to go through what I’m going through.”
Santana sighed heavily. “I’d like to believe that’s true, but Ryann, Saskia, and Garrett are already involved.”
“I didn’t want them to be!” I barked. “I love her. Why would I want her in danger? That’s why I’m not curling into a ball and giving up, even though I want to every second of every damn day.”
“What did you say?” Santana’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“You said you love her. Who? Ryann?”
My mouth fell open. “I meant as a friend. I love them all as friends. I love all of you as friends.” The words rattled out like gunfire.
“That’s not what it sounded like,” Santana replied, her eyes fixed on mine.
“Well, apparently nothing is what it sounds like to you.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. “You think I’m some dumb, reckless prick who only cares about himself.”
She shook her head. “I never said that. You saved Raffe. That’s not the action of someone just out for himself.”
Oh, way to make it worse! After all, my motivations weren’t entirely selfless.
“And I don’t think that about you,” she continued. “I said things I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry for that. I’m majorly stressed over everything with Raffe, and I let my frustration get the best of me. You’re not a bad guy, Finch. But all this secrecy and trouble you’re in… it’s really freaking upsetting for someone on the outside looking in, with no idea what’s happening.”
“It’s not much better for those on the inside looking out, either,” I said, hastily trying to rebuild those walls. “And I don’t know much more than you, about what’s going on. If I did, it would be easier.”
Santana lowered her gaze. “You won’t put Raffe in danger by being here, will you?”
&n
bsp; “I want to talk to him, that’s it. No harm, no foul.”
“If he gets hurt, I swear—”
“He’s not going to get hurt! Not by me, anyway,” I cut her off. “Although, if you don’t let me speak to him, that’ll be out of my control.”
She frowned. “You really think you can help?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
She toyed with the keyring on her belt loop. Her Esprit. “Then we should head back in.”
“You’re done ranting at me?”
Her cheeks reddened. “For now.”
“Good. Lead the way while I scoop up what’s left of my cajones.”
I waited until she’d walked a few steps ahead before taking two pills out of my pocket. I’d stowed them there before leaving for the restaurant, an ‘in case of emergency, shove these down your throat’ scenario. I did just that, swallowing them and praying they’d take the edge off the monsters in my mind.
The trouble was, if the pills really had stopped working, then I was at the top of a slippery slope with only one way to go.
Twelve
Raffe
I blinked awake. Bright lights stabbed my eyes. In the distance, I heard Santana. Had that brought me out of the darkness? Her voice had that effect on me. I glanced around but couldn’t see her. But I did see the familiar landscape of the infirmary. The sterile white walls and rough blue sheets. A drip snaked out of my arm. And a feathered snake rested on my chest.
Hi, Slink. My mouth couldn’t quite form words. Not yet. My throat had dried, and the scent of smoke rested in my nostrils. Memories flooded my mind: the restaurant, the fire, the rooftop. Not my memories, per se. These belonged to Kadar. I could always tell the difference. His memories had a spikier edge to them.
The serpent raised his head and flicked his tongue, slithering closer. I tried to lift my arm to stroke him, but there seemed to be a delay between my brain and my limbs. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Since getting sick, every time I switched with Kadar, it took time for my body to readjust.
So, I lay there with only my thoughts for company. I thought of Santana, mostly. She was always on my mind, especially recently. Even before the strange sickness took hold, which Kadar and I couldn’t explain to anyone, least of all ourselves.
The simple truth was that I loved Santana. I’d probably been in love with her from the moment we met. Back then, I’d thought a relationship would be impossible, but she’d changed my mindset. She’d embraced me and the beast—both of us—though Kadar could be terrifying when he wanted to be. He still scared me sometimes, but we had to coexist.
I’d believed, perhaps foolishly, that I could manage a relationship. When Kadar warmed to her, it had bolstered that hope. In fact, he loved her almost as much as I did. I didn’t always like that, but at least we were on the same page. And he knew not to tread on my toes. He’d seen what had happened with my father and Zalaam, and he likely hadn’t wanted to give me a reason to suppress him the way my father had suppressed his djinn for so long.
Everything had gone smoothly… until it hadn’t. I couldn’t say when the change had occurred. I suppose it was the first time we spoke about a future, a month or so ago. Our relationship had grown serious, and that sort of talk was a natural progression. It should’ve been fun—discussing children, a house, a family. But it had filled me with a sense of dread. Not because I didn’t love her enough, or because I didn’t want those things. I did. But I realized as we talked that I couldn’t give them to her.
Since then, I’d slowly tried to push her away. Not very successfully, I might add. I had no idea how to begin. Santana was my one weakness, more a part of me than the djinn, in many ways. I loved her too much. Kadar loved her too much. I knew I had to, but I couldn’t bring myself to sever ties. It would’ve destroyed me as much as cutting Kadar loose.
And that brought confusion and frustration. I was an only child raised by a bitter father. The curse of the Levi family took my mother—his wife. It was the punishment of my ancestor, who crossed a powerful sorcerer, and it had plagued us ever since. It didn’t always happen that way, with death, but my mother had been unlucky. And Santana came from a big, happy family, a world away from the life I’d led. She’d told me she wanted a houseful of children, and it pained me to know that every child would risk Santana’s life—more than the ordinary risks associated with childbirth. We might not even make it past one kid before the curse claimed her. How could I chance that? I couldn’t play Russian roulette with the woman I loved more than life.
The sickness with Kadar had only added to the strain. Santana had been incredible, sitting up all night with me. I wouldn’t have eaten or drunk anything if it hadn’t been for her care. I’d fallen in love with her even more, experiencing that. Kadar had, too. She had maternal instincts already. Who was I to say she couldn’t use them on her own children? Who was I to take that from her? People always said love knew no boundaries, but sometimes they had to be set, for the happiness of the person you loved most.
I hated feeling so weak. My djinn’s strength had generally faded, though it came back in violent spurts of Chaos that I couldn’t control. When he wasn’t lashing out like tonight, he’d become much easier to placate. Rising to the surface took a lot out of him. But what he felt, I felt. I may not have felt the pains he endured, but I suffered the aftermath—the tiredness, the feebleness, the need to sleep for a year.
You almost killed us tonight. Kadar didn’t answer. He was buried deep. As much as I wanted to free Santana from our relationship, so she could find the happiness she deserved and live without limitations, I didn’t want it like that. I didn’t want her to grieve my death. Kadar’s outbursts had grown unpredictable. And I feared what he might try next while he held our body’s reins.
“Ah, you’re awake!” Krieger’s voice distracted me. “I wondered how long you might be out.”
“How long was I out?” I croaked. Slinky slithered up my chest and draped himself around my throat, warming my stiff muscles. Not usually what you’d expect from a reptile, but he was no ordinary reptile.
Krieger came over to check my drip. “Less than an hour.”
“Good, I thought it might’ve been longer.” I struggled to sit up. “Is Santana here? I heard her voice.”
“She stepped outside with Finch,” Krieger explained.
“Finch?” I pictured the rooftop and recalled something pulling me back. Finch had saved me, I remembered.
As if summoned, Finch and Santana entered the infirmary. They both looked awkward. Considering I’d heard her from all the way in here while unconscious, I imagined they’d had a heated conversation. Santana had wanted a word with him ever since Harley told her Finch would be at dinner. I’d urged her to leave it alone, but I guessed a moment had presented itself. It was hard to gauge who the victor was. Neither looked particularly satisfied.
“Raffe! Dios mio, you’re awake.” Santana ran over and sat on the bed. She dropped kisses on my face, prompting Slinky to join in with reptilian licks.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” I said, kissing her back.
She clutched my face in her hands and pressed her forehead to mine. “You didn’t scare me. Kadar scared me. But you’re okay, and awake, and that’s all that matters.”
“I couldn’t control him. He took over, and I… vanished.” I kissed her again, more passionately. When I was near her, that was all I wanted to do. My weakness, my reason, my love. A magnetic pull I couldn’t resist, despite knowing our relationship had a shelf life.
Finch coughed. “If you could keep the romantics to a minimum? I don’t want to end up spewing on Krieger’s polished floors.”
“Don’t mind my floors. They’ve seen worse. And a kiss is often the best medicine,” Krieger chided.
Finch groaned and sat down on the opposite bed. “What do you remember about tonight?”
“All of it,” I replied. “They’re Kadar’s memories, but I have access to them.”
/>
“I bet that’s a barrel of laughs.” He shook his head.
I smiled. “It would be worse if I didn’t know what happened during Kadar’s outbursts. Thank you for saving me, by the way. I owe you.”
“So you weren’t up for offing yourself?” he asked, serious and curious.
“Not at all. If I’d known what he’d planned, I would’ve fought harder for control.”
Finch ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Is it just Kadar dealing with that unbearable pain, then? Or do you experience it, too?”
“I feel the aftereffects, not the pain itself. I ache after an outburst, and I tire quickly, but when I try to sleep, I can’t. It’s like a migraine, where you know you have to rest, but the pain keeps you from falling asleep. Only, I don’t feel the actual pain. I just sense Kadar dealing with it, and it keeps me awake.” I hoped that made sense. The situation was difficult to explain to someone with no idea what it was like to share a body.
“Kadar mentioned, pre-jump, that only Erebus or death could end the pain. And he said Erebus wasn’t listening anymore. Has he said anything like that to you? Can you access his thoughts on that kind of thing?” Finch leaned forward.
I wracked my brain. “He isn’t connected to the djinn mainframe, but he has mentioned that he can’t feel anything anymore. I thought he meant he felt numb, but that doesn’t make sense, given how many nights he’s been up, howling in agony.”
“Interesting,” Finch said softly.
“Do you know something about it?” He seemed overly inquisitive for someone with just a casual concern for my wellbeing.
He shook his head. “Not exactly, no. But I’ll help however I can, to get to the bottom of it.”
Santana twisted to shoot him a scowl. “Bullcrap. You know something. You said you wanted to speak to Raffe, and that if you didn’t speak to him, something bad might happen—you had a specific reason for that, I know you did. You saved him, and I’m grateful, like I said, but there’s something off here. So start talking.”
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