Page 85 of These Eternal Bones
It does not work; his voice has that eerie note to it. Like it’s coming from him and everywhere else at the same time.
“Barely,” I mutter, my pulse jumping as he sighs, lifting me off his lap and back into the chair.
“I’ll go get the beast and be right back, syringa.”
Be calm, Molly. Be calm.
I just nod, leaning in for a kiss. Standing, I only come up to his lower chest, but sitting, I’m even smaller. He never seems to mind bending to meet me. He lingers, his tongue testing the seam of my mouth, and it frazzles my brain in a way I don’t have time for.
Tien’s reptilian brows furrow at me as he catches himself, offering his own odd version of a smile before he follows Elric out.
Was that it?
Oh god, it had to be, right?
I’m up and pacing before I know it, worrying my hands in front of me. It only takes a few minutes before I hear a lock turning in the door. It closes in a rush but shuts silently, like when you hold the handle and let it twist slowly. Cartiel regards me with no small amount of displeasure as he clears the top of the stairs. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“Elric won’t know.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice.
The man chuffs at that. Arrogant as ever. “Of course he’ll know. He’s a god.”
“And you’re the son of one.”
“Bastard son,” he corrects, nodding toward the stack of non-aggravating books Elric allowed me to have. He wasn’t trying to be restrictive for the sake of restriction, but he refuses to let me stew over the curse, over answers. Yet here I am. Stewed. He leans down, his bronze golden locks falling into his face as he regards the book at the bottom of the pile, one my selkie accomplice snuck to me. “You’ve done your homework.
I shrug. I hadn’t wanted Elric to know I was reading into Nephilims. It seemed an unnecessary risk to the man’s life when my mate spent most of his time near the edge of sanity, anyway. Most of the words in there I couldn’t figure out, so I gleaned very little.
“What do you want, Molly?”
I swallow hard; heavens, why am I so nervous? “We were friends, close friends.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You helped me in the library,” I offer, trying and failing to find the words. My brow furrows as something flashes across his eyes, something akin to a wince. “I don’t blame you. The fall was an accident.” The hidden message is there, lingering, thickening the air.I don’t blame you for her, either. There was nothing you could do, nothing you did wrong. I want to see the smile she wrote about someday.
His throat bobs. Clenching and unclenching his fists. “We have little time. Whatever it is you want me to risk my life for, get to it.”
Every bit of class and decorum I have flies straight out of the nonexistent window as I rush forward, gripping the bars, making him take a step back. Like he can’t stand the thought of being near me. “You know more than you’ve said. I can feel it,” I point at him. “Don’t bother lying, you suck at it.”
“I do not.”
“You do. There must be something, a book, a ledger, something from the coven that did this…I know Elric, he’s meticulous. He would’ve kept everything after they were gone. There must be a way to stop this, Catriel. I want it to end, to end the curse so we can befree.This life…it has to be the last.” My voice breaks. “However long that may be. He’s suffering–”
“To fucking hell with his suffering! This is his fault! He did this to you! Did it to all of us!” I flinch as his eyes burst into a glow, erupting like daybreak. “He did this to you, and all you can think about is him.” I nearly scream when Cartiel rushes the bars, his face inches from mine. He smells like summer, like my home in Mertigas, but only in the good ways. “To fucking hell with his mercy, Molly. He deservesnone.”
My hands are shaking as I reach through the bars, as desperate to comfort him as I am to scream at him for the horrible things he said. When my hand covers his, I almost do just that. Scream at him, but a wave of déjà vu stops me. Why do I feel he’s said those words to me before? I feel like I did scream then, but that makes no sense. He’s only been around for two of my lives. This one and the last. I found out about the curse the night I died; I was rushing to open the door–
“This is insanity,” he whispers, looking horribly sad for a breath before his mask slips back into place.
“In that, we agree. I need your help. There’s got to be a clue–”
“All texts he took from that night are lost,” he says, slipping his warm hand from mine and backing away.
“And why is that?”
He shrugs. “Seven hundred years is a long time. Things happen.”
I ignore the odd nagging in the back of my mind. “You know how to help me.”
