Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,18
The kind of guy who could hold their own. Borderline alphas, that sort of jam. Nathan had some tasty looks, absolutely, but he was so… awkward. Cute, in its own right, but I didn’t usually go for that.
“Are we done in here?” Charlotte reappeared, as blunt as ever. Maybe even a little thorny, but who wouldn’t be if they’d been saddled with a tour group by their mom? I’d shown a similarly blasé attitude when my dad made me take new Atlanteans around the SDC, though I’d managed a few smiles and a joke here and there. Just like Nathan’s theory about monsters, humans had their own individual styles and responses to situations. Charlotte was just riding with hers.
“I believe so,” Nathan replied. He cast a look at me, and his face brightened in a disarming smile. It would’ve been rude not to smile back.
“Right, then, let’s get moving. Our last stop is the future new wing of the Institute.” Charlotte disappeared and the group exited, in a rush to catch up to her. This time, Nathan joined us. I pushed away the hopeful thought that maybe he’d joined because of me.
We got halfway up the corridor when something caught my attention: a faint light bobbing in the rafters overhead. I paused and stared at it, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. I blinked, but the light didn’t go anywhere. It looked like a hazy purple orb, with flaming blue wisps coming off it.
I nudged Persie. “Do you see that?”
“What?” Her voice sounded weird. Strained. Glancing down at her, I gasped. The color had vanished from her face, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her lips were blue and trembling. Either we had a panic attack on our hands, or a Purge. Since it had been five days since her last spew of scary mist, my money was on the Purge.
“Okay, Mama, we need to get you sitting and breathing.” I tugged her gently toward a bench against the wall and sat her down. The others hadn’t noticed and gone on ahead, including Nathan, which was fine by me. Persie didn’t need an audience of gawping vultures. Kneeling in front of her, I took her hands in mine. “Breathe with me, Persie. Can you do that?” I drew in a slow inhale, counted to five, and exhaled again. She stared at me, terror in her eyes. I gripped her hands tighter and breathed again, with the same slow deliberation. “Come on, baby shrimp. In for five, hold for five, out for five.”
Baby shrimp? My heart jolted. I hadn’t meant to say it, it just spilled out. As I kept up the rhythm for Persie to copy, my mind turned to my mom again. Maybe she really was here, watching over me. Tragically, my mom would never get to meet Persie. I somehow knew they would’ve adored each other. But, right now, I had to take care of my best friend.
Persie nodded. With a rattling rasp, she took a breath.
As she drew another breath, slow and steady and clear, I dared to steal a look back up at the rafters. But the glowing orb, or whatever it was, had gone. And I had to wonder… had it caused this?
Four
Persie
I knew it couldn’t last. Five days without a Purge had been blissful, but that run of luck had come to an end. I tried to clench Genie’s hands, but it was as though I’d fallen asleep on my arms and now numbness spread from shoulder to fingertips. A new symptom, perhaps? I wouldn’t put anything past this curse. I was just a vessel for unleashing beasts into the world… a means to an end.
“My… chest. I can’t… breathe.” I hunched over, my surroundings swimming in a kaleidoscope of color. The straight walls and curved ceiling melted into one, and the seat beneath me felt spongy and strange, like it could twist away at any moment. Panic scampered into the spotlight, sending dark sparks of adrenaline through my veins. Even though I’d known my Purges were inevitable, I hadn’t wanted this one to come. Not here, not on my first real day.
“You can, Persie.” Genie ducked underneath my bent shoulders, so I had no choice but to look into her slate gray eyes.
“Are… they… watching?” I couldn’t stand the idea of having a crowd observe me in my lowest moments. We weren’t children anymore,