Page 172 of Fires of the Forsaken
“You know,” Seruf curled a strand of my hair around her finger. “I don’t believe you know who you are.”
“The name’s Addie Collins,” I said through gritted teeth. “You want my dating profile? ‘Likes fast food and fun times. Hates long walks outside. But is always up for sex on the beach—the drink and actual activity…’”
“Darling,” Seruf gave an overdramatic sigh, “I’m worried about where you’ve been these past few decades. You speak quite a bit of nonsense. Anyway,” she trilled, “this has been a night of great fortune indeed! My brother is finally going to receive punishment for his crimes.” She waved cheerily at Cheriour before draping her arm over my shoulders. “And I’ll make sure he confesses to the nasty secret he’s hidden from you.”
47
UV Bar Up The Ass
“Umm,what?Y’know what, just getoffme!” I jabbed an elbow into Seruf’s ribs.
With a melodic laugh, she tightened her grip on my shoulder. She didn’t even flinch. “Shall I explain? Cheriour…” she stopped, frowned, andpoofedto Cheriour’s side, wrenching a knife out of his left hand. “That’s quite rude, brother,” she tossed the blade away and twisted his hand backward. The bones sounded like a freaking gunshot when they broke.
“Stop!” I screamed.
Cheriour drew in a sharp, whistling breath and closed his eyes. His face contorted in pain.
“As I was saying,” Serufpoofedback to my side and grasped my shoulder. “Cher—”
I cut her off. “Cheriour?” I whispered to him.
He breathed raggedly, head bowed, shoulders shaking. He didn’t look at me.
Pain lanced my chest.
“Yes,Cheriour,” Seruf cooed. “Tut-tut, don’t fret so much, darling. He won’t die. Not really.” Seruf’s apple-scented breath tickled my nose when she turned to face me. “You see, he was a Celestial. Once.” She let out an obnoxiously flirty giggle.
“The heck are you smoking?” I grunted.
“Hard to imagine, isn’t it?” Seruf said. “He’s quite pathetic now. But it’s true.”
I stared at Cheriour, expecting him to shake his head, huff and puff, or strike hisLord give me strengthpose.
He did nothing. Said nothing. His eyes remained focused on the ground, his shoulders shuddering as he panted.
“Do you know what makes the Celestials what we are?” Seruf continued in her sing-song voice. “Essence.”
“Like the makeup brand?” I blurted. “And here I thought you had naturally luscious lips.”
Seruf gave a long-suffering sigh. “It’s oursoul; one personally crafted by the Creator, and far more potent than any human soul. Celestials without Essence are pathetic creatures.” Her lips curled into a superior smile as shepoofedback to Cheriour’s side. He hissed when she combed her fingers through his hair. “They’reworsethan humans.” She drew her arm back, whacking him across the scruff of his neck.
He crumbled.
My heart hammered. “Cheriour!”
Slowly, he pulled himself back into a sitting position. He still wouldn’t look at me.
My mind raced through every interaction I’d ever had with him, combing over each minute detail. There wasnothingto back up Seruf’s crazy claim.
Except the drawing. The canal at Monschau, Germany. A place that didn’t exist in Sakar. A scene Cheriour shouldneverhave been able to draw with such precise detail.
Unless he’d been there before.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I asked.
A chunk of hair fell out of his ponytail, obscuring a part of his face as he nodded. He looked so damn small, huddled beneath the crumbling city. Vulnerable. Helpless.
A yawning pain stretched across my chest. Tears blurred my vision. “I don’t care,” I said, both to Seruf and Cheriour.
