[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“Mom?” Dawn asked, still immobile, on the edge of going to Eva, even after everything.Eva seemed to cower from the name “Mom,” and Dawn stood rooted.This wasn’t her mother anymore.Eva had died a long time ago.The white lady rose from the bed, her body stiff, almost as if she was on a board and being lifted to a stand, and Dawn went for the knife Frank had dropped, not knowing if it would work on Eva since she hadn’t died yet from Frank’s strike.Then her jaw unhinged to a startling length, and she screamed with such great fury that Dawn fell to the floor.She shielded herself from that scream, which seemed to hold all Eva’s anger at being set aside.All her wounds bled into a sound that made hell seem as if it was right below them, opening up while the walls shook, the door swinging out into the hall.Dawn pressed one ear to the side of the bed, her good hand over her other ear, blocking off the sound just like she’d had to do with Claudius.But Eva’s scream lasted longer, and it was as deep as a gouge that would never heal.The seemingly endless scream brought down chairs, cabinets, almost like they were trees falling, clearing the area.Then the keening quickly trickled to a gurgle, and Dawn looked up at her mom to find that Eva’s face was a mask of almost human defeat and sadness.She’d been stabbed near the heart by the only man she’d ever loved.Then a blank Eva stiffly moved out of the room, sobbing, “But he promised me.” As she left Frank behind without another look, she almost seemed to float in that nightgown with the scarlet chest stain.In the aftermath, Frank whispered Breisi’s name, and they huddled together as best they could, as if they were afraid the white lady would come back.But if she did, Dawn was going to use the knife on her, getting her in the heart this time.She’d had to let go of her mother, all but burying her in a box that she could store away, where it couldn’t be opened again.She crawled to the door, her own injuries protesting.But when she got there, there was no Eva.Just as if there hadn’t ever been an Eva for Dawn.TWENTY-SIXTHE ART OF PLAYING WITH FIREFLAMES.Dawn felt them in her body as the dragon slipped through her, just like Costin used to do when he’d been a Soul Traveler, merging with her, making her ache in places no one else could ever touch.But the dragon only left damage in its wake, its blood soaking her, creeping down toward the heaviness in her center.It was hot and boiling as it came closer, leaving charred scars in its wake.Closer to the soul stain.Closer.As if it knew it was being tracked, it paused.Pounded.Throbbed.Then, rounding, it reared up, the pop of fangs in a mouth that smiled, just before it struck with those teeth—Dawn startled and pressed her hand to her heart, which was beating so hard that she thought it would turn to steaming water and trickle out of her.She’d been halfway between sleep and consciousness, but the dream had shaken her to a wide-awake place where adrenaline blinded her until she looked around the room, grounding herself to the sheer curtains around the bed, the darkened window, the walls.She finally leveled out her breathing.Two days since Costin had left and the dreams had started.Two days since Eva had gone MIA, too.Dawn hung her legs off the bed, grabbing a bottle of water from the nightstand and drinking the remainder of its contents in a few gulps.Then she slipped to the floor, walking toward the side of the room, her wounded leg slightly better from all the healing gel she’d been rubbing on it.When she got to Costin’s field of fire portrait, which Kiko had propped against the wall, she peered into the flames, hoping beyond hope that Costin would magically appear.Once, back in L.A., she’d found him resting in the painting.He hadn’t revealed what he really was to her yet, and he was as mysterious as ever with a red cape covering his form, his face hidden by the long, dark hair he’d sported when he’d had a body, before it’d been destroyed and he’d moved on to an existence of borrowing the “vessels” of others.But now, there was only the fire that had always flamed in the background.She stared at it, her heartbeat gradually mellowing.Then she backed away from the portrait, frustrated that Costin hadn’t come to it
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]