Storm Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,23
up at him, press a gentle kiss to his lips, and then turn around. It’s time to face the music. Squaring my shoulders, I begin to climb the stairs, feeling like I’m about to undertake the hardest challenge of my life. For all I know, it might be; judging by the feeling in my gut, this could be what tops the prison, the maze, the lava pits…all of it. It somehow feels like there’s more on the line, if that’s even possible.
My feet feel heavy on the steps, my arms hanging limply at my sides as I arrive back on the first floor and make my slow way down the hall. I barely even notice the painting this time, my eyes fixed straight ahead as my feet carry me, seemingly of their own accord, in the direction of the room where we’re keeping Madison. The door is closed and locked tightly, although it looks like someone has hung the key over the knob. It’s likely enchanted, warded against magic, which is fine by me; considering what I’ve seen of Mads’s powers so far, she could probably take me out if she really wanted to.
I realise my hands are shaking as I pull the key off the knob and slide it into the lock, the doorknob issuing an ominous click seconds later. Feeling suddenly both weak and incredibly small, I push the door gently open, almost afraid of what I’m going to find in here after what happened last time. I’m not sure what I’m expecting—for her to jump out at me and hit me over the head with a chair or something, maybe?—so the silence is eerie, almost overpowering, when I step into the room.
Mads is sitting on the ledge by the window, facing away from me. Her hands are still tightly bound with the anti-magic cuffs, and she looks terrible. She’s thin, with marks on her wrists from the restraints. Her snow-white hair is dirty, and her clothes are a mess, and she seems utterly spent. I’m not even sure if she’s awake until I let the door drop closed behind me. The sound seems to startle her, and she turns around, her expression going cold as soon as she sees me.
“Hey, Mads,” I say, holding my hands up to show that I’m not a threat as I take a couple of tentative steps towards her.
“Go away.” Her voice is cold, but it’s lost the angry edge it had the last time I confronted her.
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell her, still moving slowly forward. “I want to talk to you, Mads. One on one. No magic, no fighting, just us.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snaps, turning so that she’s facing me. “You mean nothing to me. None of you people do.”
“That’s not true,” I reply. It’s not a denial, but a mere statement of fact. “We mean a lot to you, and I’m not just saying that to gloat.” My mouth twitches in a dry smile. “You mean a lot to us, too, Mads. And that’s why I want to help you.”
“You can’t help me,” she spits back. “No one can.”
“Really?” I ask. “I can’t help you? What about that time your skirt tore back in school? I stole some glue from the art room, and we stuck it back together. Or that time at Roger’s when that asshole kept trying to grope you? Because I seem to recall giving him a black eye.” Mads remains silent, so I keep going. “Or what about that time we fell into a crevasse back in that maze, and I helped you climb out?” I come to a stop right in front of her, slowly lowering to my knees so that we’re on eye level. “I’ve helped you plenty of times, Mads. So have you. Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”
She doesn’t look at me, but there’s a split second when I could swear I see the faintest glimmer of doubt in her eyes. “Go away,” she repeats, her jaw setting.
“Not happening,” I insist. “I was always the stubborn one, right? That’s what you always used to say. You were always the more level-headed one. You’re the kind one. You always knew how to talk me away from the edge when my big mouth got me in trouble.”
“Stop it,” she hisses, another flicker of doubt in her eyes, and I seize on it like it’s my last lifeline.
“Who was it who always helped me with my math