Home > Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(15)

Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(15)
Author: Pepper Winters

How we arrived down here, I had no fucking clue.

Why we had drips in our hands, blankets bundled around us, and crudely administered medicine was an utter mystery.

Who did this?

How long had we been here?

How much time had passed?

Was this perhaps purgatory? A place of in-between, a deplorable existence where only the worst went to pay penance?

We couldn’t possibly be alive. Could we?

A flickering light in the corner kept the vampires of the crypt at bay, but it offered no warmth—no reprieve from the ancient ice seeping into my bones from the godforsaken catacombs.

I stared fuzzily at the shape of a man cocooned in blankets. Only, he hadn’t moved, moaned, or made a sound in hours. My gift—no, my curse—no longer worked.

There was someone else down here with me. Yet, there were no thoughts, no fears, no pleas.

I didn’t want to admit it, but my brother…he was no longer alive. However, I had to try to bring him back from the dead. I had to remind him I was there for him—for him not to give up, even though slipping off the cliff became more enticing every minute. “You—you still a—alive, K—Kes?”

I never heard his reply.

The moment I finished, I fell into a stupor that lasted God knew how long. My energy flat-lined and I drifted into dreams, nightmares, and fantasies.

One moment, I flew through the forest on Wings.

The next, I was back in that hated room hurting Jasmine to fix myself.

One second, I made love to Nila, sliding inside her heat.

The next, I was shivering with ice running away from Hawksridge when I was fourteen.

Each hour, I grew weaker. Each hour, I slipped a little more.

If it weren’t for the terror at leaving Nila in the heinous world I’d helped create, I would just let go and disappear.

I want so fucking much to disappear.

I wanted freedom from pain.

Sanctuary from agony.

I wasn’t strong enough to live with such soul-crushing torment.

But no matter how hot and flaming my pain became. No matter how delirious and wracked with trembles I was, I couldn’t die.

I refused to fucking die.

I can’t. Not while they’re alive.

It was my duty to end them. To end the madness of my heritage that’d gotten away with murder for centuries.

Only once I’d balanced the scales of right and wrong could I relax and let go.

Only once I’d saved the one who’d saved me could I say goodbye and slip into the void.

My heart occasionally stuttered, out of sync, out of power—almost as if it recognised death and wanted to give in. I forced it to do the bare essentials, keeping me from a grave. I was in the coffin ready to be buried, but I wasn’t a corpse just yet.

I squinted in the lacklustre light, following the contours of my brother’s body.

He still hadn’t moved.

Time had an odd context down here. It could’ve been decades since I’d asked if he was alive, or only seconds.

I could turn to face him, expecting to see a blood-flushed body, only to come face-to-face with a dusty skeleton instead.

Anything was possible on the cusp of death.

My dying lungs did their best at working through ash and mildew to speak again. “K—Kes…”

A minute ticked past or maybe it was an hour—but, finally, my brother shifted. His grunt of agony echoed around the walls.

I wasn’t alone.

Not yet.

More time passed.

I had no way to measure it.

I raised my head off the scratchy pillow, staring at the iron bars.

Our coffin was the same catacombs that housed my ancestor’s bones. The same cell where Daniel beat me on Cut’s command. The same dungeon where I’d started the course of drugs to numb me.

Those memories had been sharp and recent. But now they were muddy and distant.

Same as all my memories.

Nila’s voice faded from my heart. Jasmine’s promises disappeared from my ears. My life deleted itself as if I wasn’t allowed to carry any memento from this world to the next.

I didn’t want to forget.

I don’t want to forget!

I willed my dried-up, malnourished brain to remember: how we arrived here. How a night of intimacy and love had transformed into my murder.

But try as I might, I couldn’t.

There was nothing but splatters of mismatched images.

Blazing hot pain.

Jasmine’s screams.

Bonnie’s barks.

Nila’s sobs.

Then more pain shoving me deeper and deeper down the drain of consciousness.

My blood was weak, diluted with agony. My soul broken but refusing to abandon a body that was hours away from succumbing to the black shroud of everlasting sleep.

Help us…

The bars were locked. There was no way out.

However, they could’ve been wide open and there wouldn’t have been a hope in fucking hell of moving.

We were dead.

The fact we were holding on was merely a formality.

More time passed and I stopped trying to catalogue it. I was drifting, twisting, fading…

Not long now.

A sudden burst of strength let me say something I should’ve said many times in the past. Something I always took for granted. “I—I lo—ove y—you, Kes.”

A cough wracked my body, clutching my pain, increasing it tenfold.

As the fever bathed my skin and my lungs rattled with sickness, I sighed and gave up. I’d said goodbye. I’d done everything I needed.

My senses slipped across the room to my dying brother and I held on. Hopefully, we’d find each other again. Hopefully, I’d find Nila again when I deserved her and paid for my sins.

Hopefully, all would be better in a different world.

I’m sorry, Nila. For everything.

Brother to brother. Soul to soul.

There was nothing else here for me.

I closed my eyes.

I let go.

I CHASED HER.

He’s alive!

Vertigo tried to trip me as I jogged in the wake of her wheels. Disbelief and suspicion did their best to kill my intoxicating high.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

It’s a miracle.

I’d never had such words affect me. Never had a voice slammed into my heart, tore it out, restarted it, and dumped me into a hope so cruel, I didn’t want to breathe in case I unbalanced this perilous new world and found out Jethro wasn’t alive after all.

I wanted to cry. To scream. To laugh.

He’s alive!

I ran faster as Jasmine shot forward.

I’d never been friends with someone with a disability. I liked to think I was open-minded and treated everyone the same way—but society still had a stigma about equality.

Jasmine shattered every misconception I had.

I thought I’d have to dawdle beside her. Wrong—I had to jog to keep up.

I thought I’d have to open doors and offer assistance around tight corners. Nope—Jaz manoeuvred her chair, doorway, and lock faster than I ever could.

She was fierce and strong, and even though she sat below my eye level, her personality consumed mine.

I was in her shadow.

He’s alive.

But how?

She hadn’t given me answers. The moment she’d told me Jethro hadn’t died, I’d emptied the dresser, shoved it out of the way, and followed her with no other encouragement.

Was it a trap? A cruel joke?

Entirely possible, but I couldn’t ignore the chance of saving Jethro. I had to break this heartache before it broke me.

Finally listening to Jasmine gave me new comprehension. I stopped listening with my ears and trusted with my heart. I noticed things that’d been so obvious, but I’d been so blinded. She adored her brothers. She was shattered with their pain. Yet, instead of hating me…she was…she’s trying to save me.

Could that be possible?

Could everything that’d happened—the fighting for ownership and contract amendments all be for him?

Had he asked her to do that?

To protect me.

“You weren’t going to hurt me…were you?” I whispered, darting down yet another labyrinth of corridors. No lights lit our way, and the security cameras above didn’t blink. No red beacon hinted that our midnight run was recorded and ready to tattle.

I didn’t know how she turned them off. I didn’t know how she knew Jethro was alive. I didn’t know anything.

I’m blind.

“About bloody time,” she muttered, wheeling forward like a tank. “Thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”

Tapestries hung silent and repressive. Paintings of dead monarchs sniffed with disdain as we scurried silently like tiny mice. The awful feeling of being swept away with no control fisted around my heart. I wanted to ask so many questions, but something held me back.

He’s alive.

And I wanted him to stay that way.

“How was I supposed to know? You were so—”

“Believable?” She looked over her shoulder, her arms propelling her forward. “I’ve learned from the best.”

Awkward silence fell. We headed deeper into shadow.

Jasmine broke the brittle tension. “What made you doubt now?”

I paused. I’d asked myself that same question. The only conclusion I could come up with was: because I’m finally listening to the truth rather than what I hear.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I answered her question with another. “Everything that happened in the meeting…that wasn’t real?”

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