frozen heart » n.h

Chapter 50

Mirabella's POV:

A mirror was no longer just a mirror--it was his reflection, his body, the way he brushed his fingers through his hair as though he'd never seen a comb before. It was the the way the reflection floated in-sync with the movement of his hips, the tilt of his head, like they were the same entity. He and his reflection moved with a rugged grace--the result of living alone for eighteen years without any sort of boundaries.

The forest was no longer just a group of trees huddled together for warmth--it was us, our time together, walking, walking, walking. I no longer saw the forest for its beauty, I saw it for his. The curve of a maple leaf, the curve of his back. The sound of a babbling brook, the sound of his husky, soothing accent. It all came together in a single harmony, moving with such a rugged grace, it lulled me to sleep at night.

A bed was no longer just a bed--it was our lovemaking. The soft mattress holding us up off of the rough, uninviting wooden floor. The white sheets tented above us, making our skin glow under a sheen of sweat. It was the way we moved with such a rugged grace, it felt like we were the only ones on earth.

He'd invaded my every waking moment, and even my dreams. Visions of haunting eyes, a chin sharp as ice, and a heart so fully made of flesh, its drumming beat could be felt vibrating through every inch of my body filled my sleep. His touch was a ghost on my skin. His lips, a silent killer. I was lost at the sight of him. Lost in his dark, but gentle ways. 

I, wholly his. 

Him, wholly mine.

Then, a crack. A small fissure, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. White hot flames threatened to lick through the small crack in the mirror, the hollow of a tree, the splinter of a wooden bedframe. It was too warm and it burned. It burned like hell.

I couldn't control it like I thought I could. I thought I was strong enough to overpower the flames, but I wasn't, so I didn't fight it. I ran away from it--from the mirror, from the forest, from the bed. I shut myself down and hid far, far away inside myself, so no one could find me.

The longer I cowered, the more the image haunted me. The fire licking at the glass, the wood, the flesh. It became emblazoned into my mind's eye like a brand. I couldn't escape it. I'd one been lost in Niall, but now all I saw was fire.

It danced with a rugged grace across his skin.

After three days of repressing my guilt, my shame, my anger, my shock, I'd grown almost immune to it. I woke with a small pain in the left of my chest, but I paid it no mind. 

And then, her.

She stood there with his face--his skin. Those tattoos. Subsided images of a raging fire flashed across my vision like hallucinations, pulling at her clothes, threatening to--

It burned. It burned so fucking bad.

--uncrease her wrinkles with the lick of a flame. When she smiled at me in recognition from behind the counter and Niall grabbed my wrist--

Make it stop. Please, make it stop.

--I reverted back into myself as the fire grew too strong for me to control again. It burned down everything: the mirror, the forest, the bed, the barn, that man. I thought ice was--

Oh God, please. It hurts.

--a destructive force, sucking the life out of a man with the slow hiss of its cold, numbing tendrils; but fire was worse. It didn't stop. Nothing could--

"Make it stop!"

I shot up, horribly unaware of my surroundings, but even more horribly aware of a burning sensation right where my heart thundered noisily in my chest. 

Someone gripped my shoulders to steady me, but my vision was blinded by the bright orange light coming from the corner of the room.

"What the hell did you do to her?" A male voice screamed, and although its tone was violent and threatening, it brought me a strange sliver of peace.

Another voice. Old. Female.

"I took it away," She whispered. 

I knew they were talking about me and as I blinked to sharpen my vision, they came into focus. A wave of relief washed over me as I slowly regained my memory. It was Niall and the woman. Of course it was. Who else would it be?

I could've sworn I was going insane, but I did not know why. 

I turned my head to Niall who sat on the side of the mattress, glaring angrily up at the woman who stood next to him.

"Niall," I muttered groggily, still fighting off the drowsiness and the burning sensation on my heart.

He quickly turned to face me, the dark rage morphing instantly into a lighter shade of concern. His hands brushed over both of my cheeks as he assessed me worriedly. What had him so upset? 

I remembered coming into the inn and seeing the woman, but I didn't remember why, or how I'd fallen asleep. 

We'd been sitting in the corner talking, and there was a fire.

"Niall, dear, would you come and speak to me out in the corridor for a moment?"

The woman's voice was soft as rabbit's fur and Niall's glare was a sharp contrast. There was an unspoken exchange between them and Niall reluctantly stood from the bed. He brushed my hair behind my ear one last time and muttered, "I'll be right back," before following the woman out of the room.

The only thing I heard before they shut the door behind them was the distinct and familiar "twins!" shouted from the room across the hall

Niall's POV:

"What the fuck did you do to her?" I growled at the woman after taking a moment to shove the drunken man back into his room. He really was getting on my nerves.

She raised her hands defensively and made a small "shhh" to quiet me down. I did, but not willingly.

"I took away the memories of William," She whispered breathlessly and it was then that I noticed how pale she looked. Her skin was white enough to make the tattoos almost invisible. 

"William?" I replied cautiously. The longer I stared at her, the more faint she seemed.

"Your seer," She breathed before almost collapsing into my arms. I reached down to catch her before she hit the floor and gently set her down.

A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to breathe. Her voice came out as almost a whimper. 

"Even spirits have their limitations."

I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do. I'd killed her once before and maybe I didn't like her, but she wasn't like my seer. She wanted to help Mirabella, so I guess I fucking owed her.

She placed a shaking hand gently on my cheek and gave me a sad smile. "Don't worry, dear. I'm not going anywhere..."

And then her head rolled to the side and she began to snore lightly.

What the hell?

At least she wasn't dead.

I picked up her larger body and struggled to get through the door with her in my arms. God, for a spirit, she was really fucking heavy.

Mirabella slapped a hand over her mouth and let out a small cry of terror. I shook my head as I heaved the woman up onto the bed beside her.

"She's just sleeping," I reassured her before walking around to the other side of the mattress and sitting down beside her.

Her eyes were locked on the woman's form whose chest was rising and falling slowly with her breathing. She'd taken away Mirabella's memories of the man? Was that even safe? Was that the only thing she removed? 

I was walking on fucking eggshells.

A/N: THIS IS MY FAVE CHAPTER SO FAR SORRY ILY