Page 150 of Lourdes & the Mafia
They split, the sound echoing and crackling across the sky. I fall away from Thuriel, spinning out of control in a wave that feels like falling all over again. Only this time, I crash into the stone of a breaking castle.
The walls cave in as I go down, debris raining around me. I cough as polluted, dusty air enters my mouth, and I try to shake off the still-falling rocks from my body. My back cries in an agonizing dirge as I push myself to a stand.
Darkness slithers around me, wrapping around my body like a blanket of comforting warmth. It gives me the strength to get out of the rubble and rush back towards the fight. Only, when I get there, it’s to find everything quiet.
My heart bottoms to the pit of my stomach as I see why.
Thuriel has reached Lourdes. And he’s gripping her, claws digging into her head as he hauls her up through the air. White light emanates from around the both of them, light I’m not sure if it’s coming off of him or her. But Kane and Lorenzo both break out of their own stupors, trying to bash against the protective force with all their might, only to be blasted back as Lourdes is taken to the air.
From the ground, Queenie, the Kraken queen, screams my vidente’s name. It cracks, a broken sound that mirrors the diminishing state of this very castle. A sound soon echoed by the others.
I flap my wings, moving as the terror-filled sounds threaten to break me as well. I try, but whatever force surrounding them is stronger than even me. I bash my fists against it, screaming, calling out, threatening Thuriel. But he cannot hear me. He’s fighting against a thrashing Lourdes. She moves, fighting, until the battle seeps out of her and she hangs limp in his hold.
From where I fly, I watch his wings knit together. I watch the eyes of my beloved mate flick to the back of her head and a scream in her throat. I fight anew, pounding until my fists are raw and bloody.
I don’t know tears are clouding my vision until I blink them away in time to see Lourdes open her mouth, speaking words I cannot hear.
She grabs Thuriel’s wrists.
Then everything around us explodes.
I’m blasted back by the force of the white hot magic surrounding them. I hurtle towards the ground, landing in a heaping boom against the rubble once more. I ignore the pain, pushing up on my elbows as I watch the light grow brighter and brighter in the air.
Then, Lourdes screams. Blood rains down. A gust of wind so strong, I have to dig my claws into the ground to avoid being blasted back, pushes relentlessly.
All at once, the light disappears, yet the aftermath is still there.
Wind, like a thunderstorm, shoves us down.
The vidente’s name, being screamed over and over.
It all happens so fast.
Too fast.
Too fast that I don’t see her falling form until it’s too late.
And Lourdes crashes down onto the ground.
Lorenzo
IamtheLordof Healing. I can sense injuries and feel the pain as though my own.
So when Lourdes hits the ground, I feel every bone in her body break. I feel the fracture of her skull. The wound in her chest.
I feel the impact of it all and it nearly brings me to my fucking knees.
I think I do fall to them. The gust of storming wind doesn’t settle, and I force myself to crawl to her. To crawl all while my own body aches, all while I feel her hurt, all with tears tracking down my face and her name on my lips.
I taste the salt of my own tears, my own sorrow as I drag myself towards her. When the dust settles, the air dies down, and all that’s left in the aftermath of such destruction is the silence.
The silence and Lourdes’ labored breathing.
I’m not sure who reaches her first. The three of us do, along with Naomi Queen, the Krakens, the Shipwreckers, and demons of the Underworld. We all surround her broken body, watching as she struggles to take in watery breaths.
“Lourdes.” The tears taste salty on my lips as I reach for her. I need to touch her skin. I need to heal her hurts. How can I call myself the King of Passing, the Lord of Healing, if I cannot even heal the woman that I love?
“It’s done. I did it.” She chokes on her own blood. “He’s gone for good.”
