Page 16 of Wings of Lies
“What?” I said, and the pressure behind my eyes increased.
He flinched, hands raising, backing up. “It was a joke! Just a joke. Bath, maybe? Yeah? You know, with your standing difficulty and all. Should I run you a bath?”
I trailed him with my glare as he retreated into the bathroom, turning on the faucet. My eyes glazed over as I waited for the tub to fill.
A hand interrupted me from my daze. “Your bath awaits you, milady. Would you desire help?”
“Are you always this energetic?”
He shrugged, smirking. “Depends on where my mood carries me. And tonight is a wondrous night.”
Not one ounce of my mind, body, or soul agreed with him.
Blankly, I stared. Taking the hint, his smile dropped. He picked me up, carrying me to the edge of the tub.
“Sorry. My mouth gets me into trouble sometimes,” he sighed, grabbing the plastic bag filled with supplies.
I snorted, not surprised.
“Here,” he handed me shampoo, conditioner, and soap. “Figured you might want that, little sister,” he winked. I barely refrained from shaking my head. As he crouched on his way out of the bathroom to avoid hitting his head on the frame, he sang, “impulse control.”
The voice crack at the end eased my annoyance. Once the door latched, I peeled off my clothing and dipped my toes into the warmth. A small moan escaped my cracked lips as I slid in. The water turned a murky yellow from the layers of mud loosening off my skin.So gross.But the heat soothed the aches and pains, relaxing my limbs.
I lathered and rinsed every inch of my skin twice. Then, I did it for a third time after I drained the chocolate milk looking water and refilled it. After washing my hair, I was ready to come out.
My lips pursed, and my legs trembled while I dried off. I slipped on Oliver’s sweater. Luckily, it was long enough and not see-through, even if he did prefer men.
Curious, now that the mud monster had been washed away, I stopped by the mirror above the sink. Built-up moisture blurred my upper torso. Steam curled around my fingers as I reached forward, hesitating before wiping away the film.
My black hair fell in choppy, wet waves down to my shoulders. Sharp angles and hollow cheeks made up my face—attractive but woefully malnourished. At least my skin was unblemished, although the dark bags under my eyes and the pale skin made me look like a vampire. Lifting my gaze from the bruised pillows under my lashes, I met my eyes and froze.
Theywereunnatural.
Two rings, one white and one purple, hugged my pupil. The barely perceptible purple blended with the black dot while the whitesat on top. Outside the rings, a smokey gray colored the background, with white and lighter purple flecks scattered throughout. They clustered near my rings and dispersed like an exploding star as they moved from the center.
Now I understood why Oliver asked if they were fake or real. But that still didn’t explain the knowing gleam I saw on his face or why my eyes looked like they belonged in a different world.
Or why I had flaming hands.
Walking out of the bathroom, I found Oliver sprawled on the second bed, mouth open and eyes closed. I huffed, picked up a pillow, and threw it at his face. It was the least I could do.
He jerked awake, blinking at me a few times. “Wow, youareolder than twelveandcan walk.”
I smiled, in a better temperament for his humor, and scanned him up and down. “Are you going to shower?” Dried mud speckled his jeans, his hair looked like he had rubbed it with a balloon, and drool crusted the corners of his mouth.
He shrugged. “Eh, probably wait till there’s more hot water. So…” Vivid eyes stared at me expectantly.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. But first, the voices. Who were they?”
I shook my head and sat on the edge of the other bed. “They didn’t say. There was a woman and a man the first time. They forced me awake. The second time, it was only the woman talking to me like you are now, but I couldn’t see her.” I fiddled with the fraying end of Oliver’s sweater, unwilling to look up. Self-conscious and contemplating brain damage, I didn’t want to see judgment reinforced in his gaze.
“What did she tell you?” he asked, not an ounce of disbelief in his tone, as if my tale was that easy to swallow. Would he continue this accepting curiosity when I mentioned the next part?
My thumb and pointer twirled the green strand. A scar exposed itself as I turned my wrist toward the light. It looked like writing but sharper and unreadable. I grazed my finger over the puckered skin.Where did I get this?Something about it tickled my mind. Something I needed to remember.
“Hello, earth to Lucille?”
