He shrugged. “Sure. I guess. I can see why you would think that, and I certainly can’t blame you.”
They sat silently next to each other, their shoulders touching, yet oceans of space between them. There was an ache in his chest, one that hadn’t been there until a moment ago. He didn’t want it to be there, but it was nevertheless.
“Anyway,” Celia said. “I wanted to tell you that in case…”
“I know. I appreciate it, even if I don’t like it.”
She stood and held out her hand for him again. He took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. She hugged him briefly, brushed her lips over his cheek, and then left the room.
Solomon sighed, stood staring down at the floor for a moment longer, and then followed.
Chapter 52
Whatever the thing was, it moved slowly toward him, making a low whistling noise. Thaddeus twisted in his chains, not wanting it to touch him. When it came within range he kicked out, his right foot connecting with the thing’s chest. It felt like he kicked a stump.
The figure moved back a couple of steps but showed no signs of being hurt. It moved forward again. Again, Thaddeus kicked out, knocking it back, and again it immediately came toward him, that soft whistle hardly even wavering.
He struggled, his legs quickly tiring until he couldn’t lift them anymore and the figure in bright yellow stood in front of him, studying him from a blank, white mask.
“What do you want?” His voice wavered.
The thing never answered. Instead, it raised its hands to chest level and used its left to tug the glove from its right. The hand underneath was so pale it was almost colorless, with long slender fingers. There were no fingernails, only smooth skin where they should be.
It raised its ungloved hand toward Thaddeus’s face.
“Please, no. Don’t.” He twisted his head back, pulling it between his arms so that the thing would have a harder time reaching him.
It simply stretched further, until those weird fingers could reach Thaddeus’s cheek. It kept its fingers together, then opened them slowly, leaving what felt like traces of cold water on his skin. Then, the water moved.
Thaddeus could feel something wriggling on his cheek. Several somethings, like small squirming worms along, some moving toward his mouth, others toward his nose. The worst were the two that seemed to be moving up, toward his eye.
He screamed, and the thing in front of him sounded a series of short, sharp bursts of whistle, like it was laughing. Finally, it took its hand from Thaddeus’s cheek and stepped back.
“Get them off! Get them off!” His screams were shrill, ringing in the stone chamber. The worms, if that’s what they were, kept moving. He could feel one on the corner of his mouth now and he clamped his lips shut, hoping to keep it out.
The worm slipped in regardless and Thaddeus spit, then gagged.
Whatever it was, worm or other, it left a bitter taste and a numbing sensation in his mouth, but at least it was gone.
The others were not.
Suddenly, one bit him. Or stung him. Or released acid, or something. Whatever it was, it was a tiny spot of brilliant pain. Then another, and another, until it felt like the whole side of his face was being pierced by needles.
He screamed again, although the pain was starting to diminish. Instead, his face was growing numb.
The thing in front of him continued to watch, the whistling laugh returning several times.
Then, it stiffened. The whistle was cut off and all movement ceased.
The door to his cell opened and a different figure rushed in.
It was Melanie. She was bloody and staggered as she ran. Her clothes were torn and disheveled, worse than his own and he hated to think for a moment what that might mean. But she was alive!
“How?” he muttered through numbed lips.
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied.
She spotted the things glove on the ground and used it to wipe the worms from his face. He got a glimpse of them, wiggling on the yellow fabric and shuddered.
They were long and white, like stretched out maggots and he gagged again at the thought of one of them getting into his mouth.
“Here.” Melanie stood back and closed her eyes.
The wards that Malachi had put in place between Thaddeus and his magic disappeared. He felt them crumble because he had been beating against them this whole time without even realizing it.
He felt the light that he could manipulate, and even more so, the fire. He looked at the ring holding his chains to the ceiling and it started to glow. He pulled hard and his chains ripped through the hot metal. It dripped down, but he simply stepped to the side, avoiding it.
The chains were still attached to his wrists, but he could deal with that later.
“How are you here?” He still doubted his own sight.
“Malachi isn’t as strong as he thinks he is. Plus, he’s a sadistic asshole. He wanted me awake for what they were doing to me.”
Thaddeus opened his mouth, but she stopped him.
“Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter anyway. It was mostly Malachi, and right now, he’s out cold. Thanks to him.”
She pointed and another figure, this time in the black robes of a member of House Subtle Hemlock came into the cell. It moved with uncertain, jerky motions.
“Key,” Melanie said, and the figure reached into a pocket and pulled it out. Melanie grabbed it and used it to undo Thaddeus’s chains from his wrists.
“I still don’t understand,” Thaddeus said, shaking his hands free.
His face still hurt, except for the parts that were growing number.
“And what the hell is that thing?” He gestured toward the white masked figure, still motionless.
“That
