A dilapidated cot stood in one corner beneath a grimy window, and a cast-iron stove with decent venting sat in the corner. He searched for signs of inhabitance, but saw no traces of food or belongings. Everything in the room looked forgotten. Empty. Perfect.
He laid Sora down gently on the cot. Her skin was moist and clammy. Cold sweat beaded her brow, and her breath came in short gasps. For a long moment he inhaled, taking in her scent. In his demon form, he could smell the toxins in her body. Strangely, it made him salivate. His heart quickened and he bristled unexpectedly, a row of black spines flexed along the back of his neck.
He forced himself to back away from the cot, knelt on one knee and placed both hands on it, focusing his thoughts, his energy. The smell of her stayed with him, a heady, irresistible perfume.
Crash looked down at his claws, his hardened black skin, and the dagger-like bones protruding from his arms. He ran a hand over his head, feeling the short thumbnail spikes. He knew his eyes would appear flat and cold as a shark. He shifted his bulky wings.
She can’t love us like this, Crash thought to his demon. How do you think we appear to her? She is afraid of you.
The demon didn’t seem to listen. It stayed focused on Sora’s sleeping form on the bed.
Is this what you desire? Crash thought ironically to the beast. Where is your love of the Shade? Of the Master who betrayed us?
The demon still didn’t reply.
Why do you fight for her? Crash asked.
The demon looked curiously at the prone body. Heat, it thought simply. Together they gazed at Sora, two wills through one set of eyes. Crash, who fiercely desired to defend her, and the demon, who smelled the residue of poison in her blood and thought it to be a very fine perfume.
Share her warmth, the demon thought again, as plain and direct as the first time he thought it.
Crash knew that need well. It wouldn’t take much for him to cave. In that, he shared the beast’s longing.
Then he touched the bristling spikes on his head with his clawed fingers. No. Sora could not wake to see him like this.
He reclaimed the throne at the front of his mind. The demon reluctantly withdrew without its usual fight. For once, their wills seemed one and the same. With a long groan, Crash took over his limbs. His wings shrank into his back; his body returned to normal size. Finally he collapsed to the ground, shirtless in the frosty winter air and overcome by exhaustion.
For a long moment he could only lie on the floor, wheezing in pain. The dagger wound in his side felt twice as sore, though thanks to his demon’s strength, it had stopped bleeding. He dragged himself up next to Sora on the cot, wrapped her firmly in her cloak and dragged a pile of musty blankets over her. Then he turned to the door. He needed to visit the apothecary below before she awoke. Her body would naturally fight off the poison on its own, but he still worried about her fever. That, and he needed time to compose his thoughts before they spoke face-to-face.
* * *
Sora awoke to the scent of musty blankets. Her head pounded, and the world tipped every time she moved. She tried to take stock of her surroundings and was reminded of a long-abandoned bedroom. She recognized the slight curve of a tattered dresser on the opposite wall. Thin lantern light flickered outside a single window from a barely-visible row of buildings across the street. Thick flurries of snow swirled down from a heavy, overcast sky. Cold air seeped through the rotted window pane, making her shiver.
She was alone.
She sat up and looked around the room. She remembered…someone. Her head pounded. Her stomach churned. She vaguely recalled strong arms lifting her into bed. She thought harder. She remembered, quite vividly, the appearance of Cobra at the parade. She remembered being dragged through the alleys. But afterward?
The sound of creaking floorboards reached her ears. A jolt of adrenaline sharpened her senses. She checked her boot and found her knife still hidden there. Her only instinct was to defend herself.
Dizzy and disoriented, she managed to slip from the bed and crouch low at the foot of the cot, knife held at the ready, facing the door. Her vision kept wavering; she squinted to focus her eyes, waiting for the unknown intruder to make himself known.
The door swung inward slowly, groaning in resistance. Her eyes widened as a dark figure filled the doorway: Cobra. Fear gripped her, and her vision swam again; she wanted to pass a hand over her eyes.
The assassin fully blocked the doorway and gazed around the room. She could sense his lethal intentions; he wanted to kill her.
He stepped inside, walking with a slight limp as though wounded. She must have injured him when he abducted her from the parade. She felt satisfied at that—perhaps she could escape. She wondered how long before more members of the Shade would arrive. She had to act quickly.
Sora waited until he was only a yard away, then lunged. She only had one chance. She intended to sever the tendon at the back of his leg and debilitate him.
Then her sense of balance abandoned her completely. She stumbled and missed her strike. Cobra stepped easily away and kicked the knife from her grasp, grabbed her firmly and lifted her clear off her feet. She tried to struggle, but the room kept spinning and she couldn't seem to organize her limbs.
“Sora!” Cobra hissed, though now she felt confused, because his voice didn’t wheeze as it usually did. “Sora, be calm! Look at me!”
She almost slipped his grasp, but he locked his arms around her waist. He forcefully picked her up off her feet and carried her to the cot. Suddenly she felt extremely hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead and gathered at the back of her neck. She couldn’t seem to get enough air.
He placed her on the cot and she stared upward, weak and panting, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Her vision blurred again, and when it cleared, she saw not Cobra standing above her, but Crash.
Crash.
Another jolt of near-panic sent her scooting across the bed. She curled defensively into the farthest corner of the cot. Yes, she remembered now….Crash joined Cobra’s side in The Regency, and he was now helping the Shade….He must have accompanied Cobra when they abducted her from the parade. Caprion was right; he had betrayed them, but why? Her thoughts felt slippery. She didn’t know what she remembered or what she had dreamed, or if she was dreaming now….
They faced each other for a minute in silence until her heart quit pounding.
“Crash,” she finally said, her voice low. “Where are we?”
“The Smokeshaft District,” he answered immediately. “I'll return you to the Ebonaire manor in the morning. You’re safe here.”
She blinked, wondering if she were truly safe with him. “Where have you been...?” she murmured.
He let his hair hang down across his face and didn’t meet her eyes. “I made a promise to you,” he said softly. “I tried to save Burn’s life. I was impatient...I confronted the Shade alone. I never should have gone to Cerastes.”
Her head spun, and for a moment she saw Cobra sitting before her again, his yellow-green eyes crinkled in a leering grin. Then his face became distorted and she saw someone else; the shadows suggested a man with long hair and skeletal, sunken cheeks. She didn’t recognize him at all, and recoiled in fear.
He offered her a strange-looking bundle of herbs. “You must chew this,” he said.
She blinked hard. Her head throbbed. “Who are you?” she asked hoarsely.
His face shifted again, and then Crash stared back at her. He looked solemn. Her question didn't seem to surprise him. “You're sick,” he said firmly. “Cobra poisoned you. Here.” He pressed the bundle of dry herbs into her hand. “Chew.”
She stared at him. She understood his words, and yet she felt overcome by delirium. Now he looked more like a ghost, his skin pale as snow, his eyes large as moons. Shadows shifted in the corner of the room and she thought she saw ravens. She felt hot and sweaty enough to remove her cloak, though she knew the room must be freezing—it was snowing outside and they had no fire.
>
A fever, she thought rationally, though it didn't help her delusion.
She put the bundle of herbs in her mouth and began to chew. The herbs tasted overwhelmingly bitter on her thick tongue.
“Sora,” Crash said quietly as she chewed, “I didn't mean to put you in danger. I’ve made many mistakes the past few days, and I may do things in the future that won’t make sense to you. It might seem like I’ve betrayed you, but I haven’t. You have to trust me.”
His words brought a surge of bitterness to her gut, worse than the strange-tasting herbs. Her thoughts cleared momentarily, and tears welled in her eyes. “Then it's true, and you're helping the Shade?” she asked.
“It's not so simple,” he murmured.
Sora shook her head slowly. “When I saw you in The Regency, I didn’t want to believe it. Caprion was right all along. You took the Dark God’s weapons to Cerastes, and now he's done something to you. You’re not the same. I can sense it.”
He didn’t deny her words, but watched her closely.
“He won't let you go now, will he?” she asked.
Her intuition seemed to take him off-guard. “No,” he said. “He won't. I'm afraid I've caused much more harm than good.”
Sora felt suddenly frail, her body exhausted. She couldn’t imagine the days to come. What if Crash never left his Grandmaster's side? What if the Shade dug their way into his mind? She didn't fully understand what had happened, but she felt the change in him, the stiffness—the coldness. What if she lost him forever? Her adventure began when he entered her life; she couldn’t continue without him.
A sense of helplessness descended. Perhaps he cared for her, but she couldn’t save him from his past. She couldn’t help him, and she couldn't fight him.
Her chest felt like it would collapse inward on itself. Nausea twisted her stomach. “Now what, Crash?” she asked wearily, defeated. “Are you loyal to him? Take me to Cerastes if you must—there is no more I can say.” She was at his mercy, and in many ways, she always had been.
“No,” he said, and then his voice became unexpectedly gentle. He reached out, grasped her under the arms and pulled her across the cot. She stiffened, but couldn't resist. His arms enfolded her. “No, Sora. Not that. Never that. I truly don't know where I've been the last few days. I lost myself for a while....” He paused and searched her face. “Cerastes is powerful, and he has a strong influence over the Shade, but when I saw you again, I knew everything they stood for was a lie.” He looked into her eyes fiercely. “You brought me back.”
As she gazed up at Crash, his words frightened her. Could he lose control so completely? Could Cerastes assert such a powerful hold over him? As silence filled the space between them, she began to think back on their journey together, on everything she knew about Crash, and why he would choose to remain with Cerastes. She almost understood. He had never laid to rest his past. He could hardly speak of his days in the Hive; he was still running from it.
But he wasn't the only one with unresolved history.
When she first entered The Regency, she felt pulled back into her old life, surrounded by maids and decadence. Old thoughts resurfaced: her petty ridicule of others, her preoccupation with her appearance, her desire to be accepted—or perhaps, to be found acceptable. Old wounds reopened. Once again, she had a frantic need to uncover the truth about her father's murder, to reach closure.
Yet now Sora remembered her newer self: a person more recently defined. She had chosen to leave behind her estate and all that went with it. She didn't have to play the nobility's game, or live in fear of rank and status; her confrontation with Lord Seabourne proved as much. Over the past year of travel, she had gained confidence in herself. Wealth and prestige no longer intimidated her. She knew her own worth now.
Perhaps Crash was facing a similar homecoming. Perhaps he, too, hadn't quite discovered his new identity, away from the Hive, away from the mistakes of his past.
“We all have demons, Crash,” she said quietly. “But you don't have to let them define you.”
Surprise registered on his face.
“If you need to return to Cerastes, do so. I understand,” she murmured. “Just remember what's in the past, and what's in your future. Remember who you are.”
He lowered his eyes. He seemed speechless. She sensed how lost he was, how lost he had always been, although she hadn't truly realized it before now. He isolated himself with cold words and a stoic facade, but underneath it all, his wounds still bled. He had a heart. She knew that for a fact, because she could hear it beating.
She felt the need to continue. “Some days we make mistakes,” she said gently. “We feel like we take a step backward, or even worse, like we aren’t true to ourselves. Sometimes, our lives change dramatically and yet we still feel stuck in the same place. But every day, we have the chance to start anew. ” She reached out and touched his jaw. “We're all headed somewhere, and with each new day, we get a little better and a little wiser. You showed me that. You're not going to lose yourself, Crash...and you're not going to lose me, either.” She managed to smile.
When he finally looked at her, his expression made her breath catch. She saw reverence in his gaze, and quiet wonder.
“You've grown,” he said softly.
“Well, of course,” she grinned, “you helped with that.” Then, in a soft voice, “I relied on you in the past...perhaps too much. Maybe I need to stand on my own for a while, and maybe I'll be better off for it. Go where you need to, Crash. You’ll always be my strength.”
He studied her closely. “You're already strong, Sora. Stronger than you know, in ways I don't know how to be.” He brushed the hair back from her face. Without speaking more, he pressed her into his shoulder and cradled her head against his wide chest. She closed her eyes against an unexpected surge of dizziness. Sparks of color danced on her closed eyelids, and she wondered what she might see if she opened them.
Then she felt his lips brush against her forehead.
She raised her face blindly, seeking him out; his lips found hers. She gasped, but the sound was lost in his kiss. His hand cradled her throat as he worked, gently teasing her mouth until her jaw loosened and she went limp against his body. Her heart raced. Heat surged through her, and she forgot about the poison, about her delirium, the darkened room, the snow falling outside the window. All that existed was beneath his lips.
He gently maneuvered her until they rested back upon the cot, his body propped up over hers on one arm. She kept her eyes closed against her dizziness and focused on his warmth.
“Do you trust me?” he said against her temple as he brushed her hair back.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “Yes,” she said.
“I'll be gone in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Don't give up on me, Sora,” he said. “Don't be afraid.”
She opened her eyes and saw him clearly. “I'm not afraid,” she replied. Then, “Will you return to me?”
He didn't answer with words, but with his hands, his lips, every place their skin touched.
CHAPTER 31
Darkness crept over The Regency as Ferran rushed the driver home. With such thick clouds, evening felt like midnight. When they reached the Ebonaire estate, Ferran told the driver to pull around back to the stables. He wondered how he would sneak someone as large as Burn into the manor. The staff would be gone tonight, most likely celebrating at the southern gates near The Bath. He didn't anticipate a problem getting Burn inside right now, but tomorrow morning, the large Wolfy would be impossible to hide.
Shockingly, Silas strode boldly outside the rear kitchen door as soon as his carriage rolled to a stop. Ferran allowed himself a long groan as he watched Lori rush out into the snow on the pirate’s heels. She wore a long cloak wrapped around her Healer's robes and carried a lantern in one hand. She had a frantic expression on her face.
He motioned for Burn to stay put and exited the carriage, meeting Silas and Lori
halfway to the kitchen door.
“What are you doing here?” Ferran demanded. He felt a headache coming on.
Silas looked affronted. “Getting compensation for the ship you destroyed!”
Ferran blinked. “Eh?”
Silas grabbed Ferran by his shirt collar, which was somewhat difficult, as Ferran stood almost a foot taller than he. Still, the Dracian was strong and pulled him close. “My men tell me a scary bloke from the Shade showed up and lit my damn ship on fire!” he declared, his face inches from Ferran’s own. “The Dawn Seeker is nothing but cinders and smoke! She’s sailing the high winds now in bits of sailcloth and ash!”
Ferran was stunned. He looked at Lori for confirmation and a pained expression crossed her face. “The Dracians are all here,” she said quickly. “I’ve hidden them in the stables, but it won’t be long until Martin finds out….”
“Bells,” Ferran cursed. Then he shoved Silas off. “And how is any of this my fault? I wasn’t there when the ship burned down!” Yet even as he said it, he touched the stolen book in his pocket and all the pieces fell into place. The Shade, who must already know the book was missing, retaliated by destroying the Dawn Seeker. Why else strike now and not earlier, like when Crash stole the sacred weapons, or when they took Krait captive?
He ran a heavy hand through his hair and groaned, feeling like he had just stepped on a wasp’s nest. What if the Shade tracked them to his brother’s doorstep? The full implications of the Dawn Seeker’s fate became clear. Whoever burned down the ship meant it as a message. What if the Shade tried to burn down the Ebonaire house as well? What other destruction were they capable of?