Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Done,” she said with a firm nod.
“Where do you go?” I asked, not quite ready for her to leave yet. Even if I knew she was risking herself with each moment she stayed here during the daylight hours.
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re not here, where do you go?”
“I’m always here,” she said. “I have a room rented in town. They gave it to me on a song since no one wants to visit the ‘suicide town’ anymore. “It’s the other way down the road we took. Sits all by itself in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, it’s creepy. But it’s cheap. There’s hot water. I can’t complain. It’s better than being chained to a wall in a freezing basement.”
“Oh, shadow girl, don’t go worrying about me. Get some rest. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She hesitated again, not wanting to leave me, even if this was her very idea. Good to her core, this one.
Eventually, though, she did turn, making her way toward the steps. Watching her, I swore she struggled to keep putting one foot in front of another.
My stomach twisted, worrying that she might not be able to make it all the way back to safety without being discovered.
But she was the pro at this, I had to remind myself. She’d been taking care of herself without me for a long time.
She didn’t need me.
Mineminemine, the strange voice croaked at the back of my mind even as I started to drift back off to sleep.
Only to be woken up by pain.
CHAPTER SIX
Nox
I heard his screams in my dreams.
I woke up crying, tears streaking down my cheeks, soaking through the cheap motel room pillowcase.
My hands pressed to my ears even if I knew I couldn’t actually hear him, that it was just the lingering hold of the nightmare keeping its grip on me.
I guess it was hard to differentiate dream from reality when I knew, not far from me, Daemon was likely being tortured—body and mind—while the gods took joy in his suffering.
A whimper escaped me as my hand went to the aching in my chest.
How, I wondered—not for the first time—could I be related to such monsters? How did they find enjoyment and amusement in the pain and suffering of others, while it made me feel sick just to think of it?
The crackers from the vending machine that I’d shoved in my mouth in the moment or two between dropping into bed and passing out soured in my stomach, threatening to make their way back up.
I reached for the water on the nightstand, taking slow sips until the nausea subsided.
Every muscle in my body ached, my very bones ached, as I pulled myself up against the headboard, blinking at the time on the clock across the room from me.
Three-thirty.
I’d slept nearly eight hours but felt like I’d just barely managed a catnap.
It was getting worse.
The feeling of being drained when using my powers.
Sure, I was using them for more than just myself. But I felt like there had to be some secret to using them without it feeling like it was literally stealing my life force each time.
The problem was, I had no idea what my powers meant, where they came from, or how to replenish them.
So they did what they needed to do, it seemed.
Take it from me.
I imagined that taking better care of myself would help. I’d noticed when I first started deliberately using my powers that they worked better on a full night of sleep, well-rounded meals, hydration, and inner peace.
But I was living in a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere, surviving on sustenance made more of preservatives than actual food, never getting enough rest, and worrying myself to ulcers about the torture of innocent humans by my half-siblings.
At least I was getting the hydration thing right, I thought as I picked up the water bottle and took another long sip. Even if it was a bottle being refilled by questionably clean water from the motel tap that had a sort of strange scent to it that I couldn’t identify.
What can I say? Trying to save the world didn’t exactly pay. And I was counting every penny I spent. So funky tap water was just going to have to do. Even if my soul was crying out for a soda. Or a nice, hot cup of tea.
A comfortable bed.
A week of sleep.
A clear conscience.
At least the muscle strain in my shoulders from sleeping on a cheap, lumpy, ancient mattress was gone.
Even just remembering Daemon’s expert fingers massaging me had a warmth creeping across my skin, chasing away the chill of the room with the shoddy heat vents that puffed out semi-warm air every so often. Enough to keep me from freezing to death, but not much more than that.
I was getting used to the cold, though, I guess.