Page 106 of The Unweaver

Handcuffed to the hospital bed, Cora screamed and thrashed until her wrists were bloody. She rusted the cuffs off and ran through the hospital wards, pursued by flapping wings, snapping beaks, and a taunting voice. The bleached hallways gave way to wallpapered corridors. Nightmares chased her through the dark Gothic house.

Cor-a…

She ran up and up the spiral staircase but went nowhere as it stretched endlessly overhead. The wrought iron railing became shimmering scales under her hand, coiling like a massive serpent rearing its head to strike. She slipped off the writhing serpent, falling and falling until she crashed into a dark hallway.

Above her own frenzied pulse, a rhythmic thumping called out to her. Guiding her to safety. She ran towards it, to a room atthe end of the hallway, grabbing the door with sweat-slickened hands.

Locked. It was locked.

Nightmares darkened the periphery of her vision and filled the hallway like a sulfurous vapor, taking the shape of magpies and monsters. The nightmares, alive and dead, real and imagined, closed in on her.

Frantic, she banged her fists on the door. She had no keys or picks or magic to open it. A locked door stood between safety and the nightmares. Through the fear floated a memory.The Intentions Lock. Only the right intention would unlock the door.

Safety. That’s all she wanted inside the room. Safety and nothing more.

The door swung open into darkness. She threw herself inside, flung the door shut, and willed the lock to keep the nightmares on the other side. Light spilled under the door, casting long, pirouetting shadows on the hideous wallpaper. For breathless moments, she stared at the door as claws and beaks tried to tear it down.

“Dora,” came Felix’s voice. Nails scratched down the wood with splintering force. “Why do you make me do this to you?”

“Cora,” came the saccharine poison of Mother’s voice. A beak rapped on the door. “Let me in, pet.”

Cor-a, came the voice like liquid darkness from everywhere and nowhere.

“Cora?” said a man with a deep, lilting voice.

A lamp turned on behind her and flooded the room with light. She spun, heart in her throat.

Malachy stood amongst the forbidden treasures, his blue eyes filled with concern. In three strides he closed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms. “It’s all right,” he said, low and soothing. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

Throwing her arms around him, she burrowed into the solace of his embrace. He murmured calm words in a melodious burr, and the crushing pressure of panic eased in her chest, slowly abating.

“Th-they were chasing me.” Her trembling hands grasped his shirt, clinging tighter to the solid warmth of his body. “Mother and Felix and— They were— He was—”

“You’re safe. You’re with me now.” Malachy smoothed his hands over her hair, down her back, holding her closer. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Gradually, her breathing steadied. She pulled back and blinked at him. “How did you get in here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” With heartbreaking tenderness, he brushed her hair out of her tear-streaked face. “But after all those terrible things that happened to you, I won’t.”

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know,” he said, soft, tortured. “I knew what had happened to you was bad. I didn’t know how bad until now. I’m so sorry, Cora.”

Realization struck her. The darkest moments of her life had played out like a movie for his morbid entertainment. Malachy had seen everything. Every drop of blood on her hands. Every death staining her spirit.

His arms only tightened when she shoved him away. She shoved harder and he relented. She pressed back against the door, feeling for the handle. Now a monster was trying to get out instead of in.

His gaze drew hers. She searched his blue eyes for judgment or condemnation but found only compassion. He came to stand before her, close enough to touch.

“You are more than the sum of your worst moments, Cora. Felix deserved to die. I would’ve killed him myself if you hadn’talready done the world the favor.” Cupping her face, he swiped away her tears away. “Thank you for showing me.”

She leaned into his touch with a half-sob and let the tears fall, let his nearness wash over her senses as he held her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled against him. For a long moment, silence churned with the weight of secrets revealed.

“I think I truly killed myself that day,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. “I killed the only parts of myself I liked. The parts that could feel joy. That girl died. I came back, but something in me stayed dead. I am a husk.”

Lifting her wrists, Malachy pressed his lips with aching gentleness on the thorny white scars. “You’re not a husk.”

She tugged her hands away. “A reanimated abomination.”

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