I looked for the soft glow of the string I’d grown accustomed to—the only light in my darkness.
It was there, pulsing with a golden shimmer, warm and comforting when I reached out to grasp it. I shuddered as a familiar sizzle of electricity infected my fingers.
This wasn’t just a string.
It was a rope.
A rope made of affection, one we both held on to, and hopefully a path back to her if I could figure out how the hell to wake up.
Eleanor.
Jinx.
I’d named her Jinx.
And for the first time since we’d met, she was no longer a curse.
She was my saviour.
* * * * *
Weightlessness could even upset someone deep within their mind.
A sway of unnatural flight.
A screech that sounded mechanical.
My mind recognised certain things but couldn’t grant me pictures as to what they were.
It was frustrating. Worrying. Compounding my growing strength and feeding me toxic anxiety to be free.
I didn’t know how to escape this prison.
There were no locks or doors or keys.
I was alone with just a string for company.
The weightlessness ended.
The screech cut off.
A different kind of motion manipulated a body I couldn’t see or operate.
Outside sensations became stronger.
The bumping journey of whatever I lay upon.
The whisper of heat upon my skin.
Relief filled me.
I didn’t know how or why, but the darkness stopped being my enemy and paused.
I hovered in nothingness, trying to figure out what’d changed.
And something was put into my hand.
I felt it.
The ambient heat. The spillage of softness. The stress of knowing what it was yet unable to name it.
And then the sensation was gone.
I panicked.
The darkness drew ranks and closed with thick curtains.
But the glowing string between Eleanor and me brightened, and for the second time, I felt touch and knew where it originated.
My cheek.
Lips on my cheek and breath by my ear.
I could feel my body, systemically regaining ownership...even if my mind was still faraway.
And my ears obeyed me, accepting her voice and unscrambling the words I hadn’t been able to understand while I’d been a speck.
But I was more than just a speck now.
I was stronger.
I’m aware.
I’m hers.
“You’re home, Sully. Keep fighting and wake up because you’re home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
SAND SPILLED THROUGH SULLY’S fingers as I once again scooped up a handful and placed it into his palm.
He hadn’t twitched or showed any sign that he recognised his home or his islands.
But I wouldn’t give up on him.
I refused to believe he’d vanished, leaving only his body behind.
His mind was in there, somewhere...it has to be.
“Feel that, Sully? That’s your beach. No more people or cities. No more Drake or wars. It’s over, and we’re home.”
I kicked off my sneakers as the doctors struggled to push Sully’s stretcher through the heavy sand.
After what the doctor had told me, I was careful not to take my touch off him for too long. I remained close. I spoke often. Now that he was home, I would be his constant shadow until he opened his eyes and gave me permission to collapse in exhaustion.
I would not rest until he came back to me.
I will fight for you, Sully...even if you can’t hear or feel me.
A squawk sounded as the doctors pushed Sully toward the pathways leading toward goddess villas and an island that’d been touched by death and decay.
The palm trees still swayed in the glittering sunshine. The sand still twinkled gold and silver like micro-diamonds scattered on the shore. The sea glowed with turquoise, and the occasional flitter of jewelled fish darted in the spangles of sunlight.
Hibiscus lived on the muggy air along with lush greenery and island sweetness. Sully’s wonderland seemed both apologetic and welcoming, as if it needed to erase the pain and demise that’d happened here and promised the power to reverse the anarchy that Drake had brought.
I tripped as my body urged me once again to sleep.
This fatigue was different to the catatonic urge to shut down after enduring elixir. This wasn’t just mind fatigue but physical, emotional, soulful.
I’d done what I could for Sully.
I’d killed his brother on his behalf.
I’d spent his money via Dr Campbell to fly him home.
And I’d stupidly, stupidly hoped that the moment Sully smelled his tropical jungle and heard the licking waves, he’d remember. He’d wake up. He’d be healthy and mine again.
I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed.
And I couldn’t stop my heart from breaking all over again as Pika shot from the glossy bushes and zipped straight to Sully, lying like a warrior who’d been carried from battle to be buried amongst family.
If anything could snap Sully out of the unwakeable sleep, it was the winged comedian with such attitude.
The tiny green, white, and apricot parrot landed on Sully’s chest. He squeaked and puffed up, his black eyes glistening with pure joy.
The doctors stopped wheeling Sully, all watching Pika as he rolled onto his wings and waved his scaly legs in the air. He chattered and chirped, slithering around on Sully’s chest, nuzzling into him, showing every possible affection.
When Sully didn’t react, Pika squawked with annoyance and flipped back to his feet. Marching up Sully’s chest, he pecked at his chin. He fluttered and landed on his nose.
I did my best not to get my hopes up.
I tried to prevent my mind from tormenting me with images of Sully sitting upright and laughing. Of him kissing the tiny bird and proving that he’d been faking his unresponsiveness all along.
However, the heart rate monitor didn’t register a pulse-kick. His skin didn’t flush. His lips didn’t twitch.
Nothing.
Oh, God.
I wedged a hand against my stomach as Pika switched from happy little tyrant into melancholy mope. His wings sagged, his puffed-up feathers fell, and his tiny questioning squeak made me cry all over again.
“Pika...” I scooped him from Sully’s face and kissed his sagging head. “It’s okay. He’ll be okay.” The tiny bird struggled to get out of my hand.
I let him go, only for him to fly back to Sully and sit on his forehead, pecking at Sully’s eyebrows,
