Black Holes - The Mors Mortis Trilogy Book 3

Chapter Eighteen

When Jared woke, it was with difficulty.

Even though the gentle noises he heard, the rustle of fabric and swish of doors swinging open and closed, told him he was no longer in the in-between, it took him a while to believe it. It took even longer to remember who he was, to allow the parts he'd shut down to reawaken.

The emotions came first, loose and untethered, and then the memories. Of the in-between, of Leah and Brenton and Seth. Of the weeks of pain and depression, split though with the ridiculous hope Seth Azemar had provided.

He struggled against the surface of those memories, trying to break through. But it was only when that final memory slashed at him — a flash of a claw, a blaze of pain down his chest — that fear propelled him awake, and he slammed back down into his body.

The back of his eyelids were lit to an orange glow, his head pounding and his stomach crawling with pain, and Jared let out a groan and squinted his eyes open.

He was in a room with a plasterboard ceiling and two fluorescent lights embedded into it's surface, and his eyes watered as they readjusted to a brightness he'd been deprived of for weeks. He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was, but then a head leant over him, eclipsing the glare.

"Jared?"

He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and Leah came into focus.

She was haloed by light, her hair falling down in waves and brushing his cheeks.

If it wasn't for the bags under her eyes, her vacant expression and cracked lips, he might've thought it was all over; that he'd died and ended up somewhere peaceful and quiet and entirely of his own making.

"Leah?"

She leant back at the sound of his voice, as if it'd startled her, and the lights flared strong again, blinding him.

"Ugh," Jared grunted. "Can you turn the lights off?"

Leah disappeared, moving away, and then the bulbs flickered out.

Jared sighed as a warm darkness descended over him and his eyes stopped watering. Light still filtered in from the curtained window, enough to see by, and Jared took in the hazy shapes and silhouettes around him.

It was a small room, with a small bed. The only other object was a chair Leah had clearly been sitting in beside him. He watched her move back to it, curling her legs up so her feet were pressed to the seat and her arms roped around her shins.

She didn't say anything, and Jared stared at her, tracing the lines and shades and colours he'd memorised long ago, that haunted him incessantly.

He wasn't used to her looking like this, though. The Leah he knew claimed space instead of curling up, shone brighter the more dire things became. Whoever it was that sat beside him wasn't that. They weren't even close.

"Where are we?" he asked, unsure where this quiet, ghostly version of Leah had come from.

She wasn't looking at him, but she bit her lip and blood pooled beneath her skin, shockingly red.

"The world of the dead. Riley and Zarah pulled us out of that place."

Jared took that in, tried to process it, but he kept getting stuck on his last moments in the in-between, on the fire that'd enveloped his body and the creature that'd crouched over him.

He pulled the sheets back and frowned down at his torso. Three long claw marks ran the length of his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. They looked months old, years even. The only evidence that they weren't an ancient injury was the dull throb in his gut, a wary reminder that any quick movements were still dangerous.