Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 19

Balendin - Now

I should have never gone into that dream.

My body moves on its own. I'm convulsing on the ground, my hands pressing hard against my ears as I try to drive out the blaring in my mind.

The hunger is back and worse than ever. It's a demon in my stomach, eating me from the inside until there's nothing left. The pain is nearly too much to bear and I have to bite down on my knuckle to prevent a sound from coming out. As another wave of pain crashes on me, I bite down so hard my skin breaks.

Through my blurry vision, I manage to see Peter, still asleep in bed. But it won't be for long.

I outstretch my hand towards the shadows in the corner. Adrian appears, asking me questions I don't understand. A small groan escapes me, and suddenly their arms are around me. I catch a glimpse of Peter stirring in his bed just before Adrian carries me out the open window and up onto the roof, where no one can see us.

"No," I manage to hear Adrian say.

I try to ask what's wrong, but then I look down. What used to be human skin has begun cracking, and bits of my dark and smoking self snake their way out of the rifts. My eyes widen and I jerk back, as if trying to crawl away from my own body.

I place my hands on my face and curse—loudly—when I feel the skin forming my cheeks. It is no longer smooth and soft, but hard and brittle.

Don't break, don't break, don't break—

"Balendin—"

"Quiet!" I shout at them, not caring if Peter hears me from his room. "You cannot help me!"

Without another word, they disappear.

My mouth closes.

Damn.

I can't do this. I can't reform myself without the energy from a soul, and if I can't, the Guard inside of me will drag me back to the Underworld. Everything I've built for myself will be taken away from me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and curl my knees against my chest.

Focus! I scream at myself.

I just need to focus and I can keep myself together. It has to work—please, it has to work.

More pieces of my human form slip through my fingers, and I force my attention onto something else.

Unable to help myself, I think of Peter. I think of his smile and his eyes and the way he looks at the world.

I think of seeing him in his own dream. I think of the way his gaze stayed with me, even when he threw me from his subconscious with ease.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

I barely have the energy to look up at the figure in front of me.

It's Adrian, their hand outstretched towards me. And resting in their palm is a golden soul, pulsating with the energy I need.

I look up and meet Adrian's gaze. "Why?"

"Eat it now," they tell me, their words far from gentle.

I listen, taking the soul between my fingers—though they are much closer to claws now—and placing it in my mouth.

Sparks explode from my chest. Everything that broke off me snaps back into place, leaving no indication that they were ever gone.

This soul is old. Very old. The memories I see show nothing of tall cities or booming technology.