Kyra

Chapter Fifty-One

Kyra's head was exploding.

Imploding, collapsing in on itself—and she couldn't so much as talk about it. She'd signed that right away in blood.

In a Romanian forest, Kyra's oozing knees hit hard rock. She stared out to the water in front of her, wanting to rock herself forwards and fall into it. She wanted to feel the cold water rush over her skin, to sting in her cuts, to freshen up her charred and ashy skin, to remind her that she was still alive.

She feared she wouldn't be able to get back out if she got in. That she'd sink to the bottom and never reemerge.

Leda was gone.

Forever.

Not gone for a thousand years. Not out of her life. She was just gone.

And there was so much she should've said. If she'd just set her pride aside and spoken to Leda, they'd have been in a completely different place. A good place.

Leda wasn't her Mother. Not by blood. But she'd been as good as a long, long time ago. She'd given Kyra her name. She'd been there when Kyra needed someone to speak to.

And then everything changed.

And now she's gone.

Kyra wanted to throw a pebble into the water. To watch it ripple over the smooth surface.

Reaching down to grab one would hurt too much.

"I'm sorry."

She'd done it all wrong. All of it. Everything was wrong.

Hell, did she feel sorry for Nadine?

Dying was better than—would she be like that forever? Bones jutting out of her body?

All of those people in the vampire prisons. All of the things she'd seen and played a part in.

She pushed herself up, back onto her feet.

She'd reach her destination before nightfall, even if it killed her. Maybe it would've. Kyra wanted to lay down and let the forest have its way with her. But her body would stitch itself back together in that time. Kyra wanted to feel the hurt whilst it was still hurting.

Eventually, she found the cottage she'd been looking for.

She might as well have fallen into the door.

"Good lord." The Rogue Witch blinked twice. Kyra really didn't want to see a mirror. She smelt like a barbecue. Not a good sign. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"You mean you didn't see this coming?"

With Richie, it would make a first.

"What on Earth has happened to you?"

"I took your advice and went to see Ronan."

"Jesus Christ."

Richie did that thing that mortals did from time to time. She gestured funnily over her heart then glanced up to the ceiling.

"That's all I can say on the matter," Kyra finished.

"At least you're alive."

She didn't feel it.

"I shouldn't be here." It was selfish to come here. Richie liked her isolation and here Kyra was pleading for her to make an exception. "I know that. And I'm sorry for turning up like this. But I—it's been a mad forty-eight hours. I didn't know where to go. I can't go home. People are going to—there'll be questions I can't answer. I can't—I can't face the music yet. You can turn me away. I'd understand."