A Flash of Red | JAMES MARCH

xxxiii

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     "DO you hear me, agapití mou?" Guttural and harsh, the voice was spoken with such a gentle clarity. "You're better than whatever darkness stole you from me. Don't let it overpower the truth of who you are. Wake up. You have to wake up."

     A haziness passed over her vision like rain passing across a window. Her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion, body pulsing with a pain that resembled nails being thwacked into each nerve by a hammer. Her memory remained blocked by some kind of immovable wall that refrained from showing her whatever lingered beyond. A monster, a death, or perhaps her own shame, she couldn't say, but what Alsie did know was that she could breathe. 

     Her eyelashes fluttered, letting a dull beam of light to brighten the usual swath of shadows she was used to coming face to face with. She expected the familiar sharpness of Hawthrone, touring each hallway like a maze made for her own torment. She could still hear the cackling of the demon that chained her, could see the reflection of gold shining on top of a man deemed ruler of all, could smell the brimstone lurking under the marble floors. As her vision scattered like glass fragments, the remnants of her dark passenger flashed and went, his hat remaining behind her vision with the reminder of his continued hovering, but what she felt in her hand was more real than any of it.

     She was lying on a bed; she knew that now.

     Alsie turned her head to her right, an ache starting at the base of her neck and stemming across her brain caused her to wince and groan.

     "Alsie?" 

     Dripping with honey and lemon, the voice reminded her of autumn. Doused in a golden halo, the visage of Cordelia had Alsie swallow in a breath. Her throat was rough like pieces of sand coated her throat, but she felt...connected. Whole. The last thing she remembered was a never-ending labyrinth where only the devils lingered. Something about now, how she was able to draw in breath and feel the warmth of the hand grasping hers could have forced a tear from her eye. 

     Blinking rapidly, she began to understand where she was. Angular archways, wooden paneling that enriched the space in warm atmosphere, and the smell of death perfuming the air around her. She was back at the Cortez. She didn't know how to feel let alone speak as her eyes took in everything besides the witch sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. A heartbeat picked up in her ears, a shuddering breath left her mouth as she continued to feel unease while taking in every inch of the room. She knew it well enough as well.