Page 15 of Sophie's Ruin
“Anything?” the darkness whispered, and the hunger in the question twisted my stomach with dread.
“Anything,” I said with resolve, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
The darkness came alive then, pulsing all around me. The shadows rushed toward me, enveloping me in their dark embrace. They climbed into my ears, nostrils, and mouth, filling me as if I were an empty vessel, until I was choking on the thick black smoke, gasping for air.
I bolted upright from where I’d been asleep on the floor, my breathing coming in short, rapid pants. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I placed a hand over it, willing it and my breathing to slow as I looked at the old, faded sofa next to me. Isabelle lay on top of it, her breathing soft and even as she slept. Wren had given her more blood and had helped her clean up before we’d all hunkered down in the living room for the day. I’d cleaned up, too, borrowing a faded tunic and black pants from Celeste to change into.
The lone oil lamp on the small rustic table by the sofa bathed Isabelle’s features in a soft, warm glow. All her wounds had healed, fading to raised pink welts, but she was still weak. That was why she hadn’t even stirred when I’d awakened. Exhausted, she was not on high alert, sleeping right through it.
“Sophie?” came Wren’s voice from my left, snapping my attention to him.
He’d claimed a spot on the floor next to me last night, refusing to leave Isabelle’s side.
“Are you alright?” the young man asked, using his forearm to prop himself up off the floor.
“Yes. Just a bad dream,” I murmured, as I scooted closer to the wall and rested my back against it.
Wren sat up fully then and scooted back as well, leaning against the wall next to me. Uncomfortable silence ensued as I let my gaze travel over the small room. The plain blue curtains were drawn closed to prevent the bright daylight reigning outside from spilling inside the dimly lit house. A lumpy armchair sat by the opposite end of the sofa, and Waylon was asleep in it, breathing shallowly. He didn’t look peaceful in his slumber, the muscles of his face twitching slightly, his brows moving and knitting at times. I wondered what nightmares were haunting his dreams. Then I remembered my own nightmare, and a shudder rolled through me at the thought.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Wren asked, and I nodded.
My gaze dropped to the spot on the floor in front of the sofa. We’d thrown out the thin, blood-soaked rug that had covered it before, but a faint smell of Isabelle’s blood that had seeped into the wood still lingered in the air. I tilted my head to the side, studying the floorboards. They reminded me of the floorboards in my mother’s old study, and a shuddering breath left me as I remembered the day I’d found the note about the Tear. So much had changed since then. I’d changed. I was no longer human, but I’d still kept my humanity. Thanks to Henry. He was my compass, my anchor, my guiding light, even in the darkest hour. I missed him like I’d never missed anyone in my life. I missed my mother, of course, but the feeling wasn’t the same. It couldn’t compare. The way I missed Henry…I felt it in my heart and in my bones as if it weren’t just blood I needed to keep me alive, but also him.
I should have told him,I thought again, as tears threatened.
“How did you survive?” I asked Wren, trying to distract myself from my dreary thoughts. When I turned to look at him, I found him watching Isabelle with a mix of concern and affection on his handsome face. “You care about her?” I asked, my gaze flicking over his taut features.
“I do,” he said with a heavy sigh, focusing on me. “Not everything that happened at the mansion was a lie.”
“Just most things,” I scoffed.
“Look.” He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. “I’m sorry about what happened, about what I did. But you have to understand, I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice,” I countered.
“Oh, really?” Wren smirked bitterly. “Okay, then you have a choice, too. You can choose to use the amulet to destroy the vampires, but you’re not going to do it, are you?”
“We’re talking about you, not me.”
“I was simply trying to prove a point. You might have had the right to rebuke me for my decision in the past…before you turned. But you don’t have the right to do so now. Not when you’re putting yourself first, choosing your own happiness over humanity’s freedom.”
I flinched at his words as anger rose, swift and overwhelming.
“Have I not already done enough? Sacrificed enough?” I whispered harshly, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
Wren’s eyes widened at my outburst as if he’d never expected it from me. I hadn’t expected it either, but now that the words were out, they hung in the quiet room like a heavy weight. I knew I should feel regret for uttering them, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Ihadsacrificed enough, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice Henry and our future together. I deserved it. I deserved the happiness Wren had mentioned, throwing it in my face as if to shame me.
“How did you survive?” I asked again, changing the subject.
“You mean after you stabbed me with your dagger?” Wren arched a brow.
I just stared at him, refusing to engage. Surely, I didn’t need to remind him that I’d stabbed him after he’d brought me to the Black Forest, doing the Dark Witches’ bidding.
Sensing that he wouldn’t get a rise out of me, Wren finally said, “The White Witches found me bleeding out on the forest floor. They took me in and nursed me back to health. They also lifted the spell binding me to the Dark Witches’ will. I was finally free.” He got choked up on the last word, his eyes glimmering with tears. “They let me stay here with them, and two weeks later, you defeated the Dark Witches.”
“I didn’t see you at the border when the White Witches joined our fight,” I pointed out, thinking back to that night.
“I stayed behind,” Wren murmured low.
