Page 188 of Fires of the Forsaken
With that, Abby Normal was off, her hooves clip-clopping against the stone streets.
I grasped onto her mane with my right hand, Cheriour with my left, and held on.
After several agonizing moments, the terrain shifted. Abby Normal’s feet now thundered over grass.
Just a bit further,I kept telling myself as thewhomp-whomp-whompingin my ears got louder.
Just a bit further.
My brain bashed against my skull. Stars erupted behind my closed eyelids. I wouldn’t make it much longer.
I almost cried in relief when I heard voices.
“It’s a Púca!” someone shouted.
“Wraiths!” another cry rose.
“No, wait,” came Braxton’s voice. “Addie?”
And that was the last thing I remembered.
50
Secret Secrets Are No Fun
This had all started with a fucking pizza.
And now I couldn’t even remember what it tasted like.
I tried. Lord, had I tried. Since arriving at Sanadrin two days ago, I’d racked my brain, trying to recall the aroma and flavor of my favorite ooey-gooey cheesy meal. Nada.
Other things I remembered withtoomuch detail. Like the fake-pine scent that rose from a cheap department store candle. Or the lowsizzle-sizzleof flames gobbling cheap, made-in-China cotton blend pajamas. Or the odd sensation of dipping my fingers into hot wax and having the molten liquid cascadeawayfrom my flesh. It didn’t stick. Didn’t dry, the way it would’ve on anyone else.
These were memories fromdecadesago. Memories that hadn’t existed in my head until Ramiel forced them there. And now I saw, heard, and smelled everything in full 8K resolution.
But pizza? No idea what it tasted like anymore.
I lowered my head to my knees, closing my eyes.
And then immediately opened them again, snapping my head back against the wall when an image of the purple-eyed girl filled my mind. A girl I knew but didn’t remember how.
Unless Ramiel had fucked with my head andtrickedme into thinking I knew her?
I wasn’t sure. And the only person who could give me answers (maybe) was lying on a bed a few feet away, doped up on pain.
Not painmeds.But apparently severe blood loss and extreme agony gave you the same loopy-brain side effects as drugs.
The fever sure didn’t help.
Cheriour shifted, mumbling nonsense like “Creator,” or “I won’t eat it,” or “East wall,”or, my personal favorite, “Cheese!” Usually barked like a harsh command.“Give me the cheese, damn it!”
Dude was having some interesting fever dreams.
He’d had some moments of lucidity the last few days. Not many. Some of his injuries had healed. Not many. Not enough.
The door on the other end of the room creaked as it opened. Maddox’s eyes peered through the darkness. (Pretty sure it was mid-day, but Sanadrin had ten windows. Total. And they were all up in the towers. The mid-level bedrooms were swathed in darkness 24/7).
Maddox’s gaze lowered until he found where I sat on the floor, huddled against the wall. He sighed as he replenished the almost burnt-out candle sitting on the shelf by the door. “I’ve left you more candles,” he said.
