Page 89 of Feathers From the Sky

"Roman," I gasp, when I realize he broke the silence. "It'll be alright, okay?" I'm crying when I say the words. They feel venomous for so many reasons. Because it's not quite a lie, but it's not the truth either.

One more I've told him I can add to the list.

"Gwyn," he yells, throat ragged. His mouth drops open and his eyebrows tip up in the center. He is in the middle of a storm, watching it take and rip and destroy. And he won't know its calm. "I love you," he says, holding onto the bars and ignoring the burning of his skin. It's close to a whisper, but it feels like a scream when it penetrates me. His words burrow, spreading through my veins like a virus, and I stop fighting his father. I stop breathing. Everything stops.

Bjorn is dragging me up the stairs as I watch Roman in slow motion. Tears cloud my vision as he repeats himself over and over. Every time he says it, my soul is damned further. The sound which rips out of my lungs is one of mourning, and words fail me as Bjorn drags me up the steps. My eyes have blurred Roman beyond recognition as Bjorn pulls me out of sight. Eventually, he puts one arm around my shoulders and grips my bicep with his other. Somehow, I put one foot in front of the other.

Blood stops pounding in my head long enough I hear an even worse sound. Roman's sorrow makes its way out in heaving gasps from floors below, and it renews my own tears.

"Why didn't you say it back?" Bjorn asks, and it's with such hatred, I know he thinks I used Roman. That I could not possibly love him, and was manipulating him all for my gain. And while it might have started as that, while I might still benefit from it, it's become so much more. Though I don't give it to Bjorn, the answer is simple, and it hurts far more than I could have ever expected.

After Roman finds out what I've done, he will question everything I've ever said to him, and I don't want my only truth to be mixed in amongst the lies.

32

ROMAN

I losetrack of time in the dark.

I struggle to hold on to the anger and not slip into grief. Overpowering my father's command for silence was only possible because of the sheer need I felt to get the words out. The heat of my fury was the fuel I needed to fight past it. But now, with her gone, with my father taking her upstairs to perform some masturbatory proclamation of his strength, all I feel is despair. On the ground with my back to the wall, I can barely move. I'd fought against his hold, and for what? I'd been able to tell her I loved her, but at what cost? It hadn't given her peace.

Did I think it would make me feel better? That telling Gwyn I loved her right before her death would keep my guilt and sorrow away in the years to come? But I couldn't let her think the horrendous words I'd said to her had any merit. If she would have walked to her death believing herself too unlovable, toobroken, it would have devastated me. Flawed logic, perhaps. Losing her will destroy me. Loving her is cataclysmic. Loving her will kill me. And my words hadn't even consoled her; that much was clear by the tears and look of horror she gave me. It's hard to believe it will be my last vision of her. Unless I get my fucking shit together and find a way to evade Emile and Bjorn’s commands.

My father hadn't bothered ordering for my silence again, but my body still wants to hug the wall, and I know Emile's command is still there. How can I help her if I'm stuck? How can I kill them all if I can't escape? I sense the flicker of anger once more, but the hopelessness I feel is overpowering. I wonder if it's worse, considering the proximity to Agnarr's tomb. It's always caused discomfort for me, a sickly feeling in my bones, and I think it might be hindering me further.

I'll leave her rotting corpse for you to gorge yourself on.

Bjorn's words replay in my mind and they give that tiny flicker kindling to feast upon. If he kills her, he better plan on killing me too. The moment I'm out, I will do everything in my power to stop him. Emile too. If my uncle were truly concerned about me, he would have covered for me. He would have let me have a goddamn conversation with him. No, they'll both die for what they've done. I'm already thinking about all the equipment left behind by Susan and Charlie's operation, plotting exactly what it will take to kill them. The more I think about it, the more calculations I make, the farther I can pull myself from the wall. The rage is fuel on my fire, and I try very hard to channel it.

But for what? Will it matter? Will it be fast enough to save her? And now she's all I can see. The way she'd looked at me at Last Drop, when I'd crossed into ruination with her, is all I can think about. I wonder if she knew then how this was likely to end. When I'd told her I wanted all of her, she knew what I meant. When she came around my cock and gifted me a small smile, even though she looked close to tears, I'd wondered. She’d looked devastated. At the moment, I'd thought it was just Gwyn; perhaps her melancholy heart wouldn't allow her to consider joy. But now I wonder if she'd been far more intuitive. Only one of us had been a fool, and it hadn’t been her.

I punch the ground, furious. This is all my fucking fault. I'd been careless in all fucking aspects. I never should have brought her here. Punch. I never should have turned her. Punch. I never should have fallen in love with her.

Dust moves on the ground after my last strike, and I trail my fingers through it. The discarded flashlight gives me enough light to see by when I lean over and notice a hairline crack in the limestone. Experimentally, I draw my arm back and hit once more, using all the strength I have. I'm not sure if it's my eyes playing tricks on me or not, but I'm fairly certain the crack grows.

Inhaling, I hold my breath while I let the events play out in my mind's eye. The steps stopped here, so I know this is the lowest level. Beneath us, there is only a hollowed out limestone tomb, holding nothing worth thinking about. If I manage to dig my way down, falling onto Agnarr's Slumbering body is something akin to suicide. Even being in his tomb, utterly silent, would be dangerous. The only way in and out is through the private elevator shaft, which leads to my father's suite, and he never gave me the code. This idea is a death wish.

But that's what makes it feasible. With the odds stacked so highly against me, I couldn't possibly hope for escape. It's a fool's plan, and that's the only kind of plan which will allow me to skirt Emile's command. If the floor falls out beneath me, I won't be compelled to stay flat against the wall. All I have to do is pick my way through the tomb of a few millennia old vampire, who has not quenched his thirst in centuries, and make sure not to wake him. I huff a laugh when I suddenly realize I don't care if that's what happens. Without Gwyn, I may as well throw myself on the mercy of one of the first ones.

Ideally, he'll stay asleep. There is an enchantment placed on him, one that allows him to rest despite his monumental thirst, but I don't know the limits. Maybe the sleep is deep enough for what I need to do. If I can manage not to wake him, I’ll have to guess the code for my father's fucking elevator, ride it up a couple dozen stories, and then somehow overpower everyone and save Gwyn.

Yeah, I'm a stupid fucker with a stupid fucking plan, but I have no choice. With a deep breath, I adjust and start pummeling the ground.

***

It doesn't take as longas I would've thought.

Strategically, I had found the most unlevel surface of the ground below me, and was able to break off a sharpened piece of rock and use it as a chisel going forward. The positioning of the cells is lucky. Built on top of a limestone deposit, my father's skyscraper is a front for the hollowed out tomb which lies beneath it. But the hollow section is not as large as the building on top of it, so when I could tell, based on sound that the ground was hollow beneath me, I nearly wept with relief. Using the sharpened rock as a chisel, I use my speed and strength to power through, tossing chunks of rock aside as I break them from the ground.

I'm hammering away when I realize what's about to happen, and I'm not quick enough to stop it. A large chunk of rock falls out beneath me, and I hold my breath as it lands. The gap isn’t enough for me to slip through, but it's close. I wait, leaning over the hole to listen. I can't see—it's too dark—but after a moment of silence, I decide it's safe to continue. It sounded like the rock hit something and bounced off, so I'm not sure what's beneath me. Maybe something has finally gone right for me for once, and Agnarr Slumbers in a different chamber.

I make quick work of what's left—just enough for me to wiggle through—and I listen intently as the rock falls. It has to be at least twenty feet. Not difficult for me at all when I can fucking see, but I'm going in with no idea what I'll be falling on or facing after. I inhale, standing up and brushing all the dust off my clothes. While I'd been digging, my father's command had finally left me, and just in time. I need that fucking flashlight for what I'm about to do.

I need to hurry in case he released me for a reason. Maybe someone is making their way down to me. Maybe it's all done.

Maybe she's dead, and I'm too fucking late.

I simply won’t allow myself to entertain that possibility, instead counting on my father’s insufferable need for fanfare to draw things out. Reaching through the bars, I grab the flashlight, wincing when a silver point catches on my shirt and pokes through my skin. I lick my fingertip and rub away the blood, not wanting to tempt the monster below me any further. Shaking off any sort of fear, I point the flashlight down into the hole, and am shocked to see gold.

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