Hellfire

Chapter Eighteen

I stayed by Lucius' side, using his cold and my threading to keep my hellfire calm. I tried not to look at the yawning chasm of fire I knew was inching closer or think about exploding and killing everyone near me when I did. I tried not to think about how Lucius just shut me down and refused to acknowledge it was happening. I tried not to think about the next time I sleep could be my last if his mother decided to pay me a visit and eat me. I just focused on letting sparks fly from me the moment a face drew too close in the corner of my eye, translucent hands grasped at Lucius with ill intent, or keeping the witches from seeing us when they moved through the basement, bones snapping and blood smearing beneath their burnt boots.

I made a mental note of each passing ghost. Clair Pendle, Fiona Lennox, Jessica, Henrietta and Daisy Murgatroyd. Every one of the witches who lost their lives passed through, all but Irma Murgatroyd, the most dangerous of them all and the one we needed trapped in this God forsaken place the most.

The moment dusk came, Lucius woke with a snap. His body was abruptly breathing again, rippling with life and power, and his vibrant eyes pierced the dark as he assessed his surroundings with predatory intent. I didn't fail to notice his hand slid to my thigh with protective intent, his body primed for a heartbeat before he was content there were no threats. I ignored the touch stoutly.

'No Irma.' I told him, my throat raw from my explosion still.

'Not wholly unexpected.' Lucius murmured and abruptly rose, muscles flexing as his body woke, sweeping his ruffled hair back into place and his sharp attention dancing over the dim, miserable room. 'Hopefully, my bats will be returning with word from the Covens before long.'

'What do you want me to do?' I asked as I watched him out of the corner of my eye, observing as he hunkered down and picked up his shirt.

It was ruined, I noted. The blood wasn't much of an issue, but the burns and the slice left behind by Thorn and my hellfire was. Mo was good, but she couldn't fix that shit - something Lucius seemed to acknowledge by how he tossed it aside.

'Go home. Drink water and bathe. Settling your fire needs to be your priority.' He pulled himself to his full height, his gaze flicking to me sitting on the floor, my head resting against the wall with burns still lingering from my blazing flames on display. He'd been unable to fix them while he had himself to heal. Despite working on himself instinctively while he slept, his wounds still hadn't smoothed out yet and the worst had simply gone into a scarred state. It made me tense up as guilt stung deep.

Lucius moved to me, and knelt down beside me, his touch drifting over my cheek as a powerful command took over my dry, split skin and began to knit back together swiftly.

'I'm sorry for not healing you first.' He murmured lowly, his gaze drinking in every sign of my body's overexertion.

'Lucius, you would've died if you hadn't worked on yours first.' I pointed out with an exasperated tone. 'Don't be fucking stupid.'

Amusement warmed him. 'So, you do think me fragile. I may be slow in healing from your hellfire, but I wasn't at any real risk.'

He could say that as much as he wanted, but I could see the burns I'd inflicted had remained. His face was nearly perfect again, save for slight pinkish discolouration, but his chest was still raw and burnt, as if he'd been in the sun too long.

I resisted the urge to touch his chest and run my touch over him to see if I'd left any ill will behind. I'd never seen him take so long to heal. Hours had gone by and yet he still his skin wasn't back to perfection. And then there was his arm. I hadn't really taken it in before. In his feeds, I was too focused on his mouth than anything else, but the chains links were sill engraved, still haunting him. Another wound caused by me.