Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

10. Maven

10

MAVEN

I sit crisscross on the bed in one of the suite bedrooms, observing my quintet argue about who will sleep in the bed with me, who's in the other room, and who's sleeping on the couch. Silas insists that newlybounds deserve closeness and privacy, which earns him a rough shove from Baelfire, who snaps that Silas doesn't need to rub it in. Everett says there isn't enough space for them both without crowding me on one king bed and calls them both dickheads.

I heard the shower come on earlier, but Crypt is in this room now, still unseen in Limbo. Silas said he healed the worst of any injuries, but we all need to sleep so my incubus can feed on my dreams and recuperate faster. I'm not thrilled that I can't see with my own two eyes that he's in one piece, but I at least trust Silas's healing abilities.

"You're too damn hot!" Everett snaps back at something Baelfire said.

"Weird time to hit on me, Snowflake, but tell me something I don't know."

"Quit being an idiot. I’m saying our poor keeper is going to swelter to death if you try to squash her all night long, you lumbering space heater. And if we don't watch Silas, he's going to make a snack out of her?—"

“How ironic that you are insulting my control," Silas scoffs, gesturing toward Everett's frost-covered hands. "How is an obviously undisciplined ability like yours lauded so highly, anyway? It's downright bizarre."

Their arguing continues. I usually enjoy listening to a good verbal sparring match, but it's time to wrap this up so we can sleep and Crypt can feed.

"While it's flattering that you three feel so strongly about who gets to lay unconscious next to me for the next six to seven hours," I begin, "I think we should?—"

My voice gives out when agony explodes in the center of my chest, so unexpected and brutal that I'm left grasping at my chest as my head spins. Shouts surround me before I'm suddenly cradled in Baelfire's warm arms—an intentional move since my body temperature is plummeting as everything grows blurry.

Keep breathing, sangfluir. I'll be right back , Silas's voice echoes hurriedly in my head.

Everett tests my temperature, brushing my hair off my face while Silas disappears from the room. He returns with a vial full of liquid, but I see another goddamned needle in his hand.

"Don't—needle—" I manage to choke out. My chest squeezes painfully as my brain begins to fog.

Don't stick me with that fucking needle, I try again telepathically.

We have to try this, Maven. I promise you won't feel it.

My harsh attempts to breathe echo in my ears as I clench my teeth against the pain while he rushes to get the injection ready. My jaw grinds so hard I think my teeth will break.

Gods, the pain is so much worse than usual. It feels almost as excruciating as the moment Amadeus ripped my heart out five years ago.

Crypt's finger pries apart my teeth, slipping between my molars. I don't know when he appeared, but his violet gaze traps me. "Bite down, love. Use me for the pain."

I do, but I'm embarrassed when a soft sob still escapes. My vision cuts out. For a moment, everything starts fading as the agony overtakes me—but then warmth blooms in my chest. Silas whispers a necromantic charm and bit by bit, my eyesight gradually clears. I can hear my rattling breaths again.

The pain lingers in my chest, but it's like this episode has decided to retreat. The hyperventilating slows as my eyelids grow heavy.

Holy shit. Silas's elixir works.

"Did you really have to inject it there?" Everett asks roughly after a long, quiet moment.

"An intracardiac injection is the fastest solution." Relief is written over Silas's features as he gently removes the needle from my chest so I don't even feel it. "I wasn't certain if it would work with her shadow heart, but…"

Baelfire adjusts me in his arms, trying to warm up exposed skin. "Fuck. Just…fuck. You scared the shit out of us—and damn it, you're freezing . Is the pain gone, baby?"

My body feels heavy. I start to speak but end up nodding because I'm half worried another sob will escape if I open my mouth, and I've already been far too fucking weak for one night.

I taste the tang of blood. My tired, post-episode brain can't piece together why until Crypt carefully removes his finger from my mouth. He quirks a small smile down at me.

"There she is. Lay her down, Decimus. Our girl is dead tired."

I snort softly, my voice a scratchy rasp. "Dead tired. Nice one."

They all roll their eyes at my loopy humor, but I can't keep my own eyelids from slipping shut. Baelfire gingerly tucks me into the middle of the king bed while Everett hovers nearby, fussing over me. Silas and Crypt are quietly discussing getting more of the colorless plant—but they also haven't stopped watching me, as if they expect me to give up the ghost any second.

"I'm good now," I insist.

"Unless there's a delayed adverse reaction," Silas frowns. "We need to watch over you just to be sure."

"You need sleep. Crypt doesn't. He can keep watch and feed on my dreams while he heals."

Silas is reticent about the idea but finally slips into bed beside me, curling an arm around my middle and kissing my neck. As soon as we're touching, I realize how badly I needed to be close to my bound match. This casual intimacy that once terrified me now soothes something deep inside me.

It just feels right.

Baelfire slips in on the other side, resting my hand on his chest so I can feel his soothing heartbeat. It's crowded enough in this bed that it might've triggered the remains of my haphephobia if I wasn't so drained. Together, their combined warmth lulls me to sleep.

I'm vaguely aware of Crypt's alluringly dark, ever-watchful presence in my dreams as he ensures I sleep deeply. Peacefully.

Until sleep evaporates completely when my senses sharpen to needle points like they always do whenever a shadow fiend is near.

Except I know this one.

It's him .

My eyes snap open. I bolt upright, my pulse pounding. Ignoring Baelfire's sleepy grumble of confusion and Crypt emerging from Limbo with a questioning frown, I bolt out of bed to turn on the lights in the room.

Everett startles awake from where he dozed off in the room's cushioned wingbat chair. He's immediately on his feet. "What's going on?"

"We're leaving. Now . Get dressed so I can transport us," I tell my quintet, flipping on the extra bedside lamps just to be safe and the light in the small closet.

"You're still recovering from your almost-episode," Silas protests, his dark curls mussed from sleep as he throws his legs over the side of the bed. "The transportation spell will be too taxing?—"

"I know my limits. I'll handle it. Get moving ."

When shadows linger in one corner of the room, I summon a weak, basic common magic spell to dispel them—but I can't keep using magic when this next transportation spell will burn up so much of the life forces I've taken recently.

I just have to make sure I don't dip into Somnus's life force…but honestly, if that's what it takes to get away from him , so fucking be it.

My matches share a shocked look in reaction to my apparent state of panic before they launch into a blind rush to get dressed—except for Crypt, who abruptly appears at my side.

"Darling? Tell me what's?—"

He cuts off sharply, whipping around as he steps protectively in front of me, his pale swirling markings lighting up. Outside the window of this fourth-story suite bedroom, I glimpse a dark mass moving in the starless night before it vanishes.

I suppose it's not surprising that the madness-inducing Nightmare Prince can sense a fellow fear-wielding being. My nerves begin to itch as they always have around this fiend.

Damn it .

I'm a fucking idiot. I should have transported us the moment I heard that news report.

Baelfire reaches for the bedroom door handle as if he's going to grab something from another room. I cover the handle quickly to stop him.

"You can't go out there."

"A lot of our shit is in the other room, Boo. Clothes, food, cash?—"

I shake my head. "All replaceable."

"What's going on?" he demands.

The lights flicker, and for that small moment, I swear I have a heart attack despite the fact that I don't have an actual fucking heart.

"Silas, cast an illumination spell. Now. One that leaves absolutely no trace of shadows in this room," I instruct quickly.

Why? he asks telepathically, already pulling out his bleeding crystal and pricking his finger.

"He moves through darkness, even the slightest bit. He can't be in any well-lit space,” I explain, slipping on the leather gloves I discarded earlier. Grabbing Pierce and the burner phone from the bedside table and stepping into my boots without lacing them up, I turn to shove a chair aside so I'll have enough space for the transportation spell.

"He? He who?" Everett asks, frost crawling past his elbows as the temperature in this room starts to drop in accordance with his emotions.

Something scratches softly at the door, and a chorus of hair-raising whispers rises from somewhere in the hallway.

They all sound like him gone wrong.

"Maven, Maven, sweetest raven." The taunt grows angry. "Remember our game of finder's keepers?"

That voice sends that too-familiar prickle of apprehension throughout my body. As I always used to, I slow my breathing and repeat my mantra to myself.

I am nothing but deadly calm. I feel nothing .

Sangfluir ? Silas's voice demands in reply to my thoughts, concern permeating his tone.

Baelfire's eyes shift to that of a dragon's as he growls, “How the hell does it know your name?"

There's a loud crash elsewhere in the suite, and the lights flicker once more. The moment they go out completely, red light fills the space as Silas's illumination spell takes hold. The metaphorical skeletal hand gripping my throat releases, and I immediately recite the words for the transportation spell.

"Hold on to me," I demand as the scratching outside the door turns into a pounding, and his whispers intensify into shrieks like howling wind.

All four of my matches immediately touch my arm, shoulder, and neck—in Baelfire's case, his arms are wrapped around me like he wants to be a shield.

Somewhere far in the distance of the dark night, a woman's bloodcurdling scream splits the air before cutting off—and then the bedroom's window shatters as a decapitated woman's body is flung through it with brute force.