Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Is she really going to stand here arguing with me when Layden is catatonic like this? “It’s not about either of us,” I cry. “Look at him!”
Sabra does, not seeming worried at all, then she looks back at me. “I’m giving him what he asked for. He’s making contact with the realm his curse came from. I’m helping him find a cure.”
“He looks like a zombie. How is that helping him? Have you seen this happen before?”
Sabra stands steadfastly. “I trust the process.”
I look back at Layden, feeling helpless. His face is lifeless. Is the glaze over his eyes getting thicker, or was it always that white? Can I really trust Sabra to know what she’s doing? She’s been obsessed with her mother’s grimoires the past few weeks, but I’ve seen some of them before, especially the later ones. They look like nothing more than the crazed scribblings of a mad woman trying to hold onto her sanity. Entire notebooks were full of arcane symbols, sometimes drawn in spirals to the edges of the pages. Interspersed with drawings of monsters dripping with blood.
“Oh my god, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Sabra says.
I whip my head around to look back at her. “What? No.”
“You are,” she says, eyes wide. “You love him.”
“Stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She just shakes her head. “If this works, then he’ll be able to leave here, and you can’t stand that. You’ll be alone again.”
I blink, the cruelty of her words hitting me deep in the chest. “Do you hate me so much? I never meant for you to be… trapped with me. I thought we were friends. It was Vlad that kept you and your mother imprisoned here—”
“We both know that’s bullshit!” she screams with her whole chest. “It was you all along who did this to my family. You created Vlad! It’s always been about what you wanted and what you needed. You’re fed by him, and he preyed on us. You did nothing to stop it.”
“What could I do?” I throw my hands out, only to be knocked back painfully by the spinning ring around us.
“Something. Anything! You’re a powerful spirit from a nether realm, but you pretend to be a weak little girl.”
“I was born as a baby into a human body! I was just a kid when I met you.”
She rolls her eyes in disdain. “You’re a god in a human suit. You were never a child. You just pretended and let yourself forget who you really are. I needed help. My mom needed help, and you stood by and did nothing. You trapped us all!”
Tears sting my eyes. “I tried to get you out.”
“It was too late.” The bitterness in her words is biting. But she’s right. Her mother died, and I did nothing to stop it or to help. I didn’t think I could help.
But was that true?
I didn’t really try. I felt as trapped by my grandfather as she was. That was the story I told myself, anyway.
Is she right? In reality, was I the one trapping myself?
I open my mouth to say something, to defend myself or beg for forgiveness—I’m not sure which—when suddenly, the light beaming down from above cuts off, and Layden’s body shudders. His head lowers, and his whole body blurs in and out of focus as the spinning rings around us slow down.
“What’s happening?” I shout.
“Just wait!”
Layden continues to shimmer, and when the circles around us slow and finally stop orbiting, he’s covered in fine gold dust.
Sabra starts bouncing up and down, a hand across my chest as if holding me back. “Don’t move,” she whispers. “Don’t touch him.”
My emotions are all over the map after the fight with her and my fear about everything happening to Layden, but he’s finally blinking awake, and his body looks solid again.
“Layden! Are you okay? What happened?”
He looks around like he’s not sure where he is and then shakes his head, some of the gold dust sifting off.
“Wait, no!” Sabra says. “Don’t move!”
Layden nods, more gold dust sifting down.
“I said, don’t move,” Sabra barks, hurrying across the lines of the now still circle that has apparently become regular ground again.
Layden just looks at me, still blinking like he’s reorienting himself. All I want to do is throw my arms around him. I’m so glad he’s okay. Which makes my chest clench in all sorts of ways. God, is Sabra right? Am I in love with him?
Our eyes stay locked, neither of us saying anything until Sabra rushes back with a bag. She pulls out several little sample bottles, shoving a couple in her pockets and lifting one to Layden’s face along with a tiny brush.
Like an archeologist, she brushes the gold dust from his forehead and cheeks into the sample bottle.
“Can I talk now?” Layden asks, and I’m so fucking relieved to hear his voice.