Atonement - Book Four (Man x Man)

Chapter 8 (M)

(Nic's POV)

Falling to my knees as I enter the room, I wrap my arms around myself as I pant and try desperately to catch my breath. The black receded from my fingertips, pulling back into my depths as my body struggled to catch up to the strain. Corina closed the door of our stolen cottage; I was uncertain where the inhabitants had ended up. 

The slam of the latch made me jump, and I found myself shivering as I tightened my fists on my sleeves. 

"Good job, Nikki." Corina hums, plucking at one of the trinkets on the dresser. 

Her voice brings me some form of joy; helping my sister has always brought me happiness, hasn't it? In times like this, when I was so far under the veil, it was hard to remember what life was like before she'd taken possession of me. There were times when I had clarity and could remember that I needed to get out of here and that I had people waiting for me. 

That he was waiting for me. 

A thin hand rests on my head, petting me casually as she thinks, drumming her fingers with a cheerful giggle. I'm like a pet to her and while the rage boils inside me, while my teeth instinctively clench, I know that I'm not fit to survive without her. 

Am I? 

"A little sloppy on the wind at the end. I'd really like to appear more as a god and less as a... I don't know. A wind person. Clean it up; don't make that mistake again."

"Yes, Corina." My body feels heavy and drained, magic pulses through her palms, bringing me to my hands and knees as I cough and shrink away from her grasp. 

 We've been touring the border, treading farther and farther into Romania at a pace that frightened me. With no resistance, her wrath was unyielding in the destruction she forced me to elicit. Each city, each town, mill, and field were leveled with no mercy. Crops were unearthed, and streets were littered with bodies and debris.

With her black magic leaking from her very pours, Corina can't go to the cities, so I have to carve a path. Her mere presence is enough to drive all the occupants to the brink of their sanity; her body oozes the noxious fumes of the unwell. 

All except for me. I'm immune, and I remain the only way we can continue this death march. We search and search, looking for wolves, but there are none to be found. It would appear they are all gone, and usually, that makes Corina very angry. It was as if it were a personal failure- that I was hiding them somehow when I was trying so desperately to find a way to make the pain stop.

Corina departs, going to sit on the couch beyond the door and in the sitting room. Pulling her hair up into a messy bun, she runs her tongue over her teeth, a warning that her frustration is mounting. Her eye makeup is smeared, applied days ago; it streaks down her face in an inky, runny mess.

Weak, I lower myself to the floor, my chest heaving, my body running on fumes. Yet I know I can't lay here; my job was not yet done, and the dried blood smearing my hands makes my stomach threaten to flip. 

Every day, it seems we do more and more. A warm, wet feeling makes me slowly roll onto my side, touching my side and pulling away steaks of red. Visions of the ones we'd killed make me gag, and I hear the rumble of frustration as she snarls at me to get up. 

Sometimes, I feel bad for the people, but it's hard to think when I'm busy obeying her commands. Climbing to my feet, my body moves against my will. It feels heavy and foreign as if it doesn't belong to me.

 "Get to work, Nikki."

I cook for her, as I do every night. 

How many people did we kill today?