A Sanguinary Rose

Bloodshot: Part 2

THE ONE NIGHT we spent at the castle, the maids separated Alan and me in two different guest rooms.

I lay awake, tossing and turning under the bed's linen canopy. My legs got tangled up between the silken sheets, and I ended up flinging them to the floor at some point during my turbulent sleep. I clutched a feathered pillow to my face, but nothing calmed me to sleep. Somehow, I must have dozed off, only to bolt awake at the slightest creaking noise or howling outside, or at the image of a nightmare forming in my mind's eye. Once I saw my brother Marcus, Mom, and Dad lying in pools of blood, only to rise from the dead as I did once. Then I saw a handgun pointed at my heart, and its cannon exploded with acrid smoke. I awoke time and time again from those bad dreams, only to come back to this world where they could become a reality.

Nighttime was my most active phase. Not only that, but the king's task weighted heavily on my shoulders. At the same time, I felt much stronger, much faster, much... well, everything I'd wished to become, and I didn't want it anymore. Perhaps I was strong enough to lift a car, and fast enough to surpass a speeding horse. The king's boon worked wonders after all. If anything, all that additional strength and energy contributed to my restlessness.

Night seemed to drag on forever, until someone knocked at my door. I put on my previous day's shirt and answered.

Alan avoided looking at me. "Pack your things. They're waiting for us. Cover up well, 'cuz it's 8am back home."

The black sky was still blinking with stars not our own when we stepped on the Dimensional Gate out in the inner yard. There was a flash of light, wind whipping at my eyes and ears, and our feet came to meet the living room in the Armstrong Manor.

Barely a second after I stepped off the platform, a slender figure with a bob of blonde hair crushed me in her embrace. I had to remind myself werecats could be deceptively strong, even in human form.

"Thank goodness. Thank goodness you're okay," Anja said, tearing up with joy. I wrapped my arms around her, too. The scent of jasmine caressed my nose, and I wanted to close my eyes and stay there for a while... "Uh, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, breaking the embrace. She had bags under her green eyes, and her hair was all mussed up. Her clothes had obvious wrinkles all over them. Even Morganne looked tidier, which said a lot. The witch smiled and waved at me with a hand hidden in her long lilac sleeve.

"I'm okay. It's good to be back." Only that was half a lie.

Oliver approached me with a flushed face and an unsure look. "That was... quite something we did back there... It's good—" But I cut him off with a hug. He smelled strongly of fresh deodorant, and his jacket was snug enough to hug him harder.

"Your dad is kinda scary, you know?"

I shouldn't have said anything though. Oliver recoiled, with a worried expression creasing his face.

"How do you mean? Like you saw him from a distance, or you bumped into him?"

"No such thing. Don't fret about it, I'm fine. Really."

Alan had snuck to the side of the room and leaned against the wall between bookshelves. "Is that so? You seemed pretty distant after that dinner Mr. Highborn invited you to."

I shot him a 'shut the hell up' look.

Oliver turned to me, and I feigned ignorance. "Who? My brother?"

"Yeah. You know, those cooks of yours really know their craft." At his raised eyebrow, I added. "Seriously, it's all fine. I'm just happy to be back."

This was the kind of reunion I dreamed of when I was trapped inside the Starlit Almanac. I wanted only to come back, and nothing else mattered. As I saw their faces once again, the full extent of this dire reality sank in. Nothing would be the same as before. And a large, darkening shadow loomed ever greater over our lives. My gaze wandered around the living room and found no trace of the person I could fall back into when I felt most cornered.