Page 17 of Wings of Lies
I tore my attention away from the odd scar. “What?”
“The female? What did she say?”
“She mentioned a place and two people.”
“Where and who?”
Something about his tone made me peer up. He wore the same knowing gleam as he did in The Grind.
“In the café, what did you mean about my eyes?”
Edging toward the end of the bed, he clasped his hands between his knees. “How’d you melt the doorknob to escape?”
My face scrunched. “How does that?—”
“Bear with me, would you? I’m getting to that part.” The sass had me itching my arm. “How’d you do it?”
“I have pow…” It sounded insane. “Powers.”
Not surprised, he nodded, smirking. “Which is why Marcus took you, and you have that ring around your eyes.” His smirk grew into a full-blown smile.
“What do you mean?” I didn’t like the glee in his expression. It meant whatever he said was about to turn my world upside down. Again.
His smile held despite my irritation. “Do you see the purple ring around my pupil?”
I leaned off the bed as he leaned forward, staring into the unnaturally bright green hue. Around his pupil circled a dark purple ring.
The same purple ring that graced my unusual starry depths.
“Yes,” he said, noticing my surprise. “What if I were to tell you it signified the blood of a specific species?”
“What other species is there besides humans?”
Something sputtered inside me. A tickle fluttered around in the gaping hole of my mind, wanting to connect to Oliver’s words. I knew at one point what he was talking about, but the answer hovered out of reach. Although, the importance didn’t. This answer could help me and my mom; I knew it. He just had to say it. I needed him to say it.
Oliver’s grin turned mischievous. I curled in my eager fingers, silently berating myself for the thoughts of violence.
“Many, Lucy. Oh, that’s what I’m going to call you from now on. Lucille is too long.”
Spoken, they were the same length.
Breathe.
But how the hell could I breathe when it felt like hundreds of tiny feet scurried along my skin? Not to mention the rising pressure pushing behind my eyes and underneath the incessant itch. It felt like what I’d imagine a snake wrapped in plastic would feel like—tormented by the need to shed its skin, only to be suffocated with it instead.
“Unless you have just woken from a long coma-induced slumber, were locked in a cage with needles sending god knows what into your blood”—my voice, the itch, and the pressure all rose—“and then ranfor your life on pure adrenaline and willpower, exhausted, scared, and out of your mind, I’d refrain from the theatrics and tell me what the hell I want to know!” I snapped into his face, happily watching his smile drop. He was playing with a grenade whose safety pin had been pulled hours ago. He had my answers. I needed those answers.
I stood and felt a snap. The pressure and itch eased while my tumultuous emotions rode me. Barely towering over Oliver, looking down into his wide eyes, color washed from his face. Unsatisfied by his sickly pallor and lack of words, I stepped closer. A song whispered in my ear, coercing me to listen to its addictive melody of anger. Of violence.
My hand lifted. The seductive tune coming from the untouched depths of my soul consumed my mercy. Yet, my hand, inches away from wrapping around his throat, stilled. But not from the terror I witnessed on his face, from the change that occurred on my skin.
I sank to the floor in front of Oliver’s muddy shoes. The flashing colors disappeared from his wide, glassy eyes.
This time, it wasn’t just white. Dark purple intertwined and danced among the lighter flames. When the two colors heightened, specs of black manifested, deepening the already dark purple flame.
Stunned that I wanted to murder Oliver, the musical whispers disappeared, releasing me from their grip. The twining colors sank beneath my skin, removing the lingering itch and pressure. My lids fluttered, my head lolling to the side.
“Lucy!” Oliver yelled.
