Hellfire

Chapter Twenty-One

I lay in the depth of my bed two days later, breathing evenly and my mind blank of every thought. I watched the sun playing between the thin layers of curtain surrounding my open window, a sticky breeze sliding into my room. Despite the heat of the day, I hadn't burnt my bed or my clothes. I hadn't felt the need to roar to release my fire. My bones didn't feel like they were cracked cinders, my blood on fire, my feet leaving behind burns wherever I walked, my breath like smoke. I didn't even feel the incessant itching anymore. I was docile. Patient. I stared at that shimmering sunlight and not once did I feel the need to move. There was no desire to really, just some vague knowing I needed to be showered by now and probably needed to eat by the curling in my stomach.

I didn't flinch when Mo thumped her fist against my door, I just stared at the light. When silence met her, she just let herself in.

'Susan. Get up.' Mo ordered, flinging off my covers and wrenching the curtains open. 'I get you're more nocturnal, but three in the afternoon is a joke when you had no job last night.'

I scrunched up my face, sleep still clinging to me.

Mo approached me and touched my forehead. 'Are you sick? You've been off the last couple of days.'

'I'm fine.' I murmured.

She slapped my shoulder with the back of her hand. 'Then get up. You need to eat and be showered.'

I did as she ordered, finding I could finally move now I knew what I had to be doing. I found it difficult to really think of what to do for myself; what I needed. It was nice when someone did it for me and made my head hurt a bit less.

So, I showered in a daze, finding the waters rushing down, the curling steam and the way the soap lathered over my skin curious, and then slid out to dry myself as I stared at the mirror. My eyes were blank mostly, my lips parted with no real expression. The rage I remembered being there was just...gone.

Hesitantly, I reached out to the mirror, touching my face reflected in it, tilting my head. I was calm. Docile. Human. No longer a demon.

I felt only the thinnest layer of relief at the thought that this was really working, a sign I still needed more of my cure. Any whispers of emotions was deadly to me, an ignition for me to explode and murder everything I loved.

And when I thought of that, I thought of him. Lucius. And my heart tightened, and a small slither of flames slipped from between my teeth.

I need more.

I fell to my knees, my fingers fumbling beneath my bathroom cabinet for that little bottle I'd stuck beneath it. I pulled it free and stared at the black-emerald vial, noting I was running out already, and looked to snatch a glass from beside the sink to fill it with water.

'Witch.'

My fingers paused in their half-hearted fumbling. The mirror was suddenly cracked, lines snaking over it like a hammer was knocking against it, pulsing with a steady beat. Whispers echoed. Heavy wing beats. Blood began to dribble free with a savage hiss as something stalked in the darkness of my bathroom, and the edges of my mind.

Lady Vortigern was looking for me again, but I just kept still. Quiet. Alastair's amulet would do the job. It always did whenever Lady Vortigern dreamt, trying to pull me into her sleep. As always, she moved on and the mirror snapped back into place, releasing me from the hissing and savage whispers.

And I was left feeling calm. I was breathing without a hint of ash clogging my lungs, not a lick of fire or drowning in a rush of blind terror. I clutched the vial. Not even Lady Vortigern could trigger me anymore.