I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,8
with leather-bound books that look like they should be under glass at an important library. Another wall has shelves full of jars filled with different colored powders, roots, and other strange objects. In a corner sits a round table carved from jade and etched in ancient symbols. A fire burns in the center, though I see no source to feed the flames. And the flames are blue, rather than the standard red or orange. While I know blue flames can occur in nature - for example, wood saturated with sea salt can produce blue flames - I don't know of any that can dance atop solid stone like that. Must be a chemistry trick, though why it would be in a law office is beyond me.
The room smells of spices and wood and earth. Against another wall is a desk covered with scrolls, with books and jars lined above it on shelves. A large chair sits in the center of the room in front of a blazing stone fireplace with a strong fire burning within. There's no chimney, no way for any of this to work.
"Hello there, dear, can I help you?"
I jump at the sound and turn to see Matilda standing in the doorway.
The pressure in my brain is building. I don't have much time to find somewhere private. Damnit.
Black spots appear in my vision. Light dances before my eyes as pain explodes in my head. I only have time to say, "Help, please!" my eyes filling with tears as I grip my skull and sink to my knees, a sob escaping my throat.
Matilda rushes over. "Oh, my dear, it's all right, love. Come now." She rests a cool hand on my forehead. "You're burning up!"
I know. I always do when these hit.
And it's not over yet. It's just starting.
She helps me to the chair, supporting my body weight as sweat slicks my skin, and I shiver as if cold. I am both cold and hot. The pain hasn't reached its climax yet and I'm not looking forward to when it does. I won't be able to stop what happens next, and that terrifies me.
"I have to leave," I say between breaths, grinding the words out through the pain.
"Of course you can't leave. Not in this condition."
I reach for my bag, knowing I don't have enough time to get out of here, hoping I still have the leather strip I used to carry just in case. I fumble, my sketchbook falling out, still opened to the page of Sebastian's sketch. Matilda notices it but says nothing as I find what I'm looking for and stick it into my mouth to keep from screaming.
Just in time, too.
The pain breaks my skull open, shattering my mind into a million pieces, undoing me, removing from my consciousness any memory of who I am or where I am. All I know is pain. And I bite down, moaning, muffled screams escaping through the leather.
My body convulses, and I experience a moment of a flash, and a vision so dark and terrifying fills my mind that I let the scream burst forth, spitting out the leather strip in the process, my body thrashing.
Something is pressed against my lips. Hot liquid pours into my mouth, a trickle at a time. It's bitter. Vile. I cough and try to spit it out, but a hand holds my head, and a soft voice soothes me. "This will help, my dear. Drink it all. It will help, I promise. You poor thing."
As more of the liquid makes its way down my throat, I feel its effects. The vision fades. The pain ebbs. The vice-like grip on my brain eases. And I slip into the darkness.
He is always there, in my dreams. In my sleep. In my mind.
This time we are children. Nine or ten years old. I'm in bed, sweat beading on my forehead, the pain in my small body building. Adam is laying next to me, holding my hand, his face contorted in pain as well, but it's not his pain he's feeling. It's mine. "Why is this happening?" he asks our father, his voice a scared whine.
My father places a cool washcloth on my forehead and tenderly brushes away the wet hair clinging to skin. "Every superhero has to go through hardships to come into their powers," my father says, his smile sad, untold secrets living in his dark brown eyes. Eyes my twin and I do not share. We have our mother's eyes.