Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,35

my attention back to Bryce.

My head jerked up and I saw Lilith lying on the ground next to the pain-filled apprentice. She was on her side in a languorous pose with one arm curled around his head. “Send him to me, Gage. He’s in such pain. Set him free.”

“Two!”

“Set him free, Gage. Help your friend.”

“Three!”

I screamed, my voice hammering against the cold stone walls as I charged across the pit toward Bryce. The wooden blade was jerked over my head as I fell to my knees next to his prone body. All I saw were Bryce’s brown eyes widening in terror so that I was nearly drowning in them as I brought the knife down. The boy screamed in pain as the blade broke through his chest, but I had to bring all my weight down on the knife to push it through his heart.

Blood splashed over my hands and I remember thinking that it wasn’t as warm as I thought it would be. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as I watched the light fade from his wide eyes.

A cold hand cupped my cheek and I looked up to stare into the dark pools of nothing that composed Lilith’s eyes. She was smiling at me. “I’ll be coming for you soon, Gage. And you’ll set me free.”

I screamed, the sound ripped out of my throat like a banshee’s wail. Something shook me hard and I jerked upright to find myself sitting on my bed with my brother kneeling on the edge, his hands braced on my shoulders. He said something, but I didn’t hear it past the pounding in my ears. As I gasped for air to scream again, my stomach lurched.

Shoving him aside, I jumped off the bed only to get tangled in the sheets. I fell to my hands and knees, but managed to crawl the final few feet across the room to the small wastebasket before I started heaving my guts up. Bile burned its way along my throat and my lungs locked up, crying out for air. I couldn’t purge my mind of the memory, but my body could purge the contents of my stomach. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I doubted it was because of the vomiting.

When the spasms stopped, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and fell to my side near the basket. I sucked in deep breaths, willing the shakes to stop as I lay there with my eyes closed. My skin was clammy and covered in a cold sweat, while my entire body hurt as if I had pulled every muscle.

I hadn’t had a nightmare about my time in the Towers for years, and never one about Bryce. I had suppressed that bitch of a memory until I had forgotten about it completely. I had been thirteen when Simon first took me to that damned dueling pit. Bryce looked like he was no more than ten or eleven at the time. We had never met before that day, but I could still remember that nervous smile he had flashed me before we found out what we were expected to do. I remember thinking that he seemed like an okay kid and that if I had met him at home, he would have been someone I would have ridden bikes or played wiffle ball with. Instead, I killed him.

Looking back nearly fifteen years later, I wasn’t sure what had spurred me on to kill him. I wanted to say I had been saving him from more pain and torture. Oh God, I wanted that to be the reason. But a slick and horrible voice whispered in my ear that I had killed Bryce because I had been afraid to die.

“Gage?”

I flinched at Robert’s voice despite its soft and gentle tone. The old wounds were suddenly fresh and the memory was raw in my mind. I was having trouble climbing back into the present, where I was free of Simon and the Towers.

“What time is it?” My voice was rough and hoarse as it escaped my injured throat. I lay on the floor with one arm thrown over my eyes, blocking out the world a little longer. I wasn’t ready to look at my brother when I could still see Bryce’s wide brown eyes in my mind. Even more, I didn’t want my brother to look at me.

“A little after one.”

“Could you start some coffee? I’ve got to jump in the shower before I head to the