Dark Champion (Flirting with Monsters #4) - Eva Chase Page 0,87

other. Trusting their judgment of their own needs. Giving them room to make choices. Not scolding them like some sort of child for mistakes made centuries ago that might not even be mistakes.

“I fought as hard as I could with your brother all those ages ago,” I said. “And I left the battle for his and the rest of your sake as much as my own. There was no betrayal or shame in it, and I will claim none now. My first duty is to the beings alive who stand to suffer and die if I don’t act, and that includes both of you and so many others—and it isn’t finding scraps of one long snuffed out that will save any of you.”

Both of them were gaping at me now. Lance tried to puff himself up in some image of righteousness that now only looked ridiculous to me. “Then you forsake all your—”

I cut him off with a glower. “I forsake nothing. I go now to fight for so many more than died even then, and if you had any honor, you would be doing the same. It’s up to you whether you show what wingéd are meant to be or wallow here in the pain of the past. I’ve made my decision.”

I waited with a thudding of my heart in my chest. They hesitated and then shrank back into their wounded stances, and I knew it was hopeless.

They were hopeless. I could see that now. They weren’t the final bastions of our kind but a pale shade of what we used to be, what we’d always striven to be, and it had nothing to do with the ruined bits of their bodies but of the lapses they’d allowed in their souls. I intended to do better than that.

“Fine. You’ve distracted me enough with your demands.” I swiveled on my heel and caught Flint’s gaze. His stern face had blanched in shock. “Are you staying to wallow with them, or will you stand by me and the rest of our kind when it matters most?”

The other wingéd wavered too, but only for an instant. The duck of his head hid a wince of humiliation. “I should have stayed with that fight to begin with. You’re right, as you were right before. We must do what we can for all the other beings who now face so much danger. I apologize—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You chose what you thought was right, and then you changed your mind. It’s an asset all thinking creatures possess… even those two.”

I shot one last glance over my shoulder, but the ragged wingéd hadn’t budged. So be it. With a nod to Flint, I hurtled into the shadows.

Long ago, I hadn’t found a way to be what my companions then needed. This time, I refused to let them down—not Sorsha nor Omen, nor any of the others I meant to save.

24

Sorsha

The next time when I woke up, I was still clamped to the lab table. Aches ran all through my back and limbs from the awkward position I’d been lying in, sharper in the spots where the experimenters’ tools had cut into my body. The lights had dimmed, giving the room a hazy, dream-like feel.

The deluge from the sprinklers had stopped, although the clothes still clinging damply to my body were proof that I hadn’t imagined it. The experimenters were gone. Had they noticed—? With a stutter of my pulse, I probed the base of my gums with my tongue and relaxed slightly. Thank hamstrung hippos for that smallest of small mercies.

Had they left me on the table because they weren’t quite finished carving me up? At least that would mean Tempest hadn’t gotten what she’d wanted yet. I’d sooner cuddle up with a cockatrice than make this quest of hers one bit easier for her.

The last words I’d heard from the Company scientists tickled through my head. To get that cure. I wouldn’t have understood why the sphinx thought I had anything to do with curing anything if it hadn’t been for Snap’s devouring of her lackey in Crete. What was it exactly that he’d said the dude had found…?

A warbling sound broke through my reminiscing: a voice, not much more than a whine that sounded more animal than human, wavering from the direction of the door. Then a gasp of pain and a hoarse plea: “You don’t have to— I came here because I—"

That was Snap’s voice, its usual brightness tarnished. My limbs