Page 128 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“Hurt her?” came the sound of her mother’s voice, crisp and sharp. “She is our daughter, we would never—”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Silas snarled, not even bothering to look at the hateful woman. He grasped Amelia’s arm, feeling her relief surging into him. “Are you okay?”
She swallowed with a shaky nod.
Silas felt his jaw shifting, teeth clamped tight together. He didn’t know he was capable of such rage, but to think of her parents,her parents, maiming her, manipulating her, taking her autonomy…it made his blood boil.
“Right,” he said in semblance of control, though his voice shook with latent fury, “we’re leaving, before I do something I may or may not regret.”
Amelia’s eyes widened slightly at the insinuation. He slid his hand down to her wrist and began tugging her towards the door.
“Wait,” she said, and the fragile strength he could hear gave him pause. She looked up into his eyes imploringly. “I need to do this,” Amelia said softly.
Silas wanted nothing more than to protect her, to shield her from feeling the intense pain he had felt from her. But this wasn’t his choice. He nodded stiffly, forcing his fingers to release her from his tight grasp.
She let out a shaky breath and turned back to her parents, who had been watching the exchange with a simple curiosity.
“Mother,” Amelia said, “father…I want you to understand that for most of my life, I’ve been afraid of you. So deeply terrified of what you proved capable of.”
Her mother just sighed and folded her arms across her chest, like this was boring to her. Not worth her precious time. Silas forced his feet to stay where they were, sending her his most venomous glare.
“Please, child,” her father said wearily, “you were always our greatest creation, from the moment you were born. We were only helping you achieve your most excellent potential.”
Amelia clenched her hands into fists. “You don’t understand,” she said softly, “what it’s like. To come out of it, to come back to yourself after being numb to everything, after being forced to be something and someone that I’m not.” Amelia paused as her voice wobbled. She cleared her throat and kept going. “You don’t know what it’s like to both want your parentsandbe so deeply terrified of them all at once. I wanted help, support, love. But all you gave me were expectations and pain.”
“Amelia—”
“No, father,” she ground out, her hand rising suddenly, a window shattering behind them, a lamp nearby faltering. Her parents both flinched in shock, her mother emitting a small squeal. “I’m speaking now. I’m finally speaking my mind and taking control, and you will fucking listen to me!”
They remained silent, eyes wide.
“Youdon’t knowwhat it’s like,” Amelia said again, anger and agony curling in her words, “to want to peel your skin off because you want so desperately to be someone else, to be anywhere else. To be in the presence of your parents, just waiting for the pain to come, to lose yourself, and then afterwards…to have every bit of you cringe away and not want to think about it so that maybe, justmaybe, you might be able to sleep that night without nightmares or eat the next day without being sick.”
Silas reached for her. He couldn’t help himself. He took her hand, curling his fingers steadily around hers. She grasped him back tightly.
Her next breath shuddered. “And I’m so done being afraid of you and caring what you think of me.”
“Amelia, you are the key to solving it, child, if we could just—” her father began, and Silas lost his temper.
His magic pulsed from his body, and the older man flew backwards, like an invisible string pulled him from behind with an almighty force. He struck a shelf against the wall and flopped to the ground, eyes falling shut as a few knick-knacks rained down around him.
“Preston!” her mother shouted, moving for her husband.
Amelia stepped forwards, raising her own hand. Her mother wasn’t flung, not like Silas had done to her father, but rather her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body just…collapsed.
They both walked slowly towards the unmoving bodies.
Amelia sighed as she stood over her mother. “You will never see me again,” she whispered, before turning to Silas. “Take his ring, that’s the key to the archives.”
He moved to her father, slumped against the shelf, and knelt. He slid the gaudy-looking golden ring, a red stone inlaid atop, from his finger and slipped it into his pocket. Silas stood.
“Got it,” he said, and reached for her as she pulled out a Waystone chip. He spied the glowing rune, one that would take them to Ivory City. He looked at her. “We could be in danger there…if the Sanctum finds us again.”
Amelia took his hand. “I know, but we’re running out of time, and we need that journal if we have a hope in stopping all of this.”
Her warm hand was in his and they watched each other as she pressed the chip, activating the magic. It vibrated intently, feeling different than it ever had before, and he knew the moment they were pulled away, that something was wrong.
TWENTY-NINE
