Children Of The Sky (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 2)

Chapter 3

Kill him.

The wicked voice ate at his mind, smooth, rich, sweet as honey. He'd given up wondering if he was mad; it was obvious by now. He'd wake up places he didn't remember going, or look in the mirror and see his eyes flash between grey and blue, his own mouth twisting in a smile he didn't recognize.

Bring him here, it crooned. Take her back. She belongs to you. Bring him here, and make him pay for what he's done.

He screamed, sliding against the wall, clutching his head. How it ached when the voice spoke, pulling on the strings of his will, tearing him in two. "Get out of my head," he sobbed, his knees on the ground, his forehead pressed to the floor.

You cannot escape me, the voice answered. Will you do as I say, or need I implement...stronger means?

"Leave me alone!" It ripped from his throat and died in the empty room. The voice was quiet. Then, seven words that struck fear into his very core.

Very well, then. I did warn you.

He felt his body jerk without his permission. And the world turned grey.

***

The city still felt much as it had when they'd first arrived all those months ago; dark, heavy, damp, albeit lacking snow. But there were pockets of joy scattered between buildings; old shops with paper lanterns hung outside, musicians on street corners, candle merchants with windows glowing as night blanketed the town, and small, backwards restaurants that sold curiously spiced dishes that were strangely good. Nyle took Lillian to one of those that night, and they ate river octopus over black rice in a strange, milky sauce that sat on her tongue and simmered with every bite. They didn't speak much; he seemed to know she needed silence for a while, but he kept giving her long looks that she returned until they both ended up smiling at each other. Lillian poked at her food after a bit, her appetite half of what it'd been before the letter, and Nyle clearly noticed, because he waved the waiter over and paid for their meal, then stood from the cushion on the floor and got her jacket from the coatrack by the door.

"Let's walk the riverbank, yeah?" he suggested, offering her his hand. His eyes were dark in the low light of the lanterns, his face softened by a hint of a smile. "We both need to get a bit lost tonight, I think."

Her long, loose skirt and Nyle's arm around her shoulders kept the evening chill at bay as they strolled over old cobblestone streets, walking from halo to halo of light from the streetlamps. Late as it was, and in this better-off side of the city, most windows were dark, but a few winked at them from the darkness, reflecting in puddles of rainwater from the day before. They walked to an old bridge spanning a thinner stretch of the river, and Nyle led them both to an ancient, half-rusted bench that had heard so many secrets from both of them it probably wasn't safe to leave in public. There were no lanterns here, no lights, only the river and its bed and the bones of the bridge beneath them. Lillian closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to Nyle's shirt as he put an arm around her and drew her close. Her breath shook a bit with the next one she took, and she caught herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. She could cry later. Tonight, it was her and Nyle.

"Hey," she whispered, shifting a little as he rubbed her shoulder with his thumb. It was the first thing she'd said to him aside from what she wanted to eat. "How've you been?"

"Same-old, same-old. Dodging political discussions, long runs in the woods to keep from imploding, getting ticked off at the two-thirds of the council that hates me, the usual." His sigh was drawn-out and heavy. "It's been a long week."

"Mm." Lillian tilted her head to look up at him, and he turned to meet her gaze, his eyes inky in the dark. "I thought we agreed to pretend they love you and just don't know how to express it."