He blinked at me, then over his shoulder. His stance, which had slackened, cramped right back, and he ducked as though to avoid a hit. And then his leg streaked through the air as though he were sweeping someone off their feet.
I gripped a bottom rung and tugged, trying to drag the oversized birdcage down. “Remo!”
His concentration broke.
“His eyes! Or her eyes. Are they the right color?”
Again he blinked. “I . . . What—” His hushed voice told me his attacker must’ve vanished. “Amara, you’re not dead.” He gawped at me through the bars beneath his feet, the color, which had risen into his cheeks from his imaginary battle, draining. “Amara,” he spoke my name again, incredibly gently this time, as though worried that if he spoke it any louder, I’d vanish back into the jaws of the lupa.
“The door, Remo. Open the door.”
He raced across the cage, which lifted another inch, pulling me off the ground. “There’s no handle!”
“Try kicking it open.” Hopefully, my weight would keep the cupola from rising.
He raised his foot and snapped his leg, the sole of his boot hitting the door so hard my grip faltered and my fingers slid off the bar. I hopped but the cage was too high for me to reach now.
As he kicked again, I fashioned a hook with my dust and swung it, clipping it around a bar. The cage jerked up, and again my feet left the moss.
“Come on, Remo,” I urged. I didn’t want to stress him out, but I also didn’t want to dangle from a spelled cage.
He froze midkick. Like literally, his boot was raised in the air but never made contact with the wall or with the floor. And then he fell, so hard his entire body thwacked the metal, making the cage dip then rise.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t move, and I noticed the back of his head had landed on the back of my hook.
Shit. “Remo!” I tried to slide it out from underneath him, but he was too heavy, and it wasn’t like I had much leverage what with being suspended in midair from only one functioning arm. When blood spiraled down the metal and dripped onto my knuckles, I yelled his name again, then, “Wake up.”
His lids reeled up.
Yes! “Remo. The door.”
His head turned first, his cheek pressing into the hook, and then the rest of his body. He rose to his knees, muscles trembling. A bead of blood curved over his cheek before dripping off the tip of his nose. He palmed it away, smearing the blood.
I craned my neck back as far as it could go so I could keep my gaze affixed to his. “You need to get out of the cage. Open the door.”
He stared at me, his pupils dilating then retracting as though his pulse were beating in his very eyes. His brow dipped, darkening his irises, and then his lips coiled into a sneer.
“Remo. I’m real. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t.”
“What did you do with her, you sonofabitch?” he growled.
He was staring straight at me, but he was no longer seeing me. His fingers dug around my hook, unclipped it. Teeth gritted, he pried it up.
“Remo, stop! It’s me.”
“Because of you, she’s dead!” More blood dribbled off the tip of his nose, landing on my forehead.
“Remo, it’s Amara, please.”
His muscles strained his tunic, and his birthmark popped in fury. He growled, sending a look of such undiluted hatred my way that my heart shrank and slid into my clenched stomach. He agitated the hook as though trying to shake me off.
“Remo, stop! It’s me! Trifecta! Your villain!”
He froze. Had one of my words registered?
“I’m trying to help you,” I added, glancing downward. My heart crawled up, filling my throat and then my mouth. The ground was now so far below that slipping meant going splat. Swallowing, I tipped my head back and looked at him again. “Please, Remo. The door. You need to get the door open.”