Savage Wings: Book Three of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 13

Letting go of Lucius' hand, I slipped off the edge and landed in the empty pit, scrabbling away from him until I reached the other side and wedging myself into the corner as tightly as I could. It wasn't Lucius I was afraid of. No, it wasn't like those early days when I was petrified and repulsed by the strange little boy who could throw me into my nightmares just by the touch of his hand.

I was afraid of myself.

I was afraid of what I might do if I stayed by his side. I knew that this time I would be the one to seek out those nightmares, desperate to go back and find Caelan, to reclaim her as mine – just like I had promised I would do. I stared hungrily at his hands, those small pale child's hands that held so much power and as if sensing my thoughts, Lucius withdrew the gloves Garrick had given him from his hoodie pocket and quickly put them both on.

A feather-light touch on my shoulder made me flinch violently and I turned expecting to see rainbow eyes staring out from Punch's wicked face. Instead I found myself staring into those startling emerald eyes of Harper, his dark brows furrowed deeply, as he crouched low by the side of the baptismal pool.

"What is it? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I am?" My fingers found the tears that were trickling down my face and I wiped them away, staring at the moisture on my fingertips as if it was the first time I had ever felt or seen tears.

"Yeah," Harper replied. "One minute you were sitting there, just staring into nothing, then you were crying. You didn't make a sound, your expression didn't change, but you were crying. Megan, what the Hell happened?"

"Oh God, Harper...." I said, the words drifting up into the air and fading to nothing as I saw Josiah standing in the centre of the aisle, his feet almost touching his sister's blood that still stained the floor. As soon as my eyes locked with his, I crumpled, clapping my hand over my mouth and wishing that the pool was full of water and I could just slip under the surface and stay there so I didn't have to see his face.

The seer turned away, staring up at the ceiling and raising his arms to cradle his head. The muscles across his back and shoulders tensed and he clenched his fists tight almost as if he was going to beat at his own skull, or maybe he was just thinking about beating me. Harper must have sensed the imminent explosion too. Grabbing hold of my arm, he half-dragged me out of the pit and shoved me behind him, acting as a barrier between me and Josiah.

The seconds ticked by like minutes but when the time came, there was no explosion, no Vesuvius-like eruption that would split the world down to its core. Instead Josiah turned back to face me and gave a slow nod of his head. His eyes displayed a surprising, but weary acceptance of what we had not yet discussed and yet he instinctively knew to be true. Staggering to one side, he found a seat on one of the discarded pews and slumped onto it, the wood creaking beneath his bulk.

Stepping out from behind the wall Harper had created, I studied the fallen seer with trepidation. Harper caught my hand as I passed by his side, shaking his head in warning, but I squeezed his hand in return and pressed on regardless, treading cautiously over the scene of my crime as I approached Josiah, with Harper following close behind.

"Josiah..." I began and then stopped. How do you even go about apologising for allowing someone to be claimed by the Devil's army? How do you apologise for standing by as someone is dragged into an eternity of torture? How do you admit that you've failed, that you're nothing but a failure and not fit to even say the name of the being that created you?

As it turned out, I didn't need to say anything at all as the seer looked up and nodded again. "It's okay, Megan," he said hoarsely, although I knew it wasn't okay. It was far from bloody okay although why he didn't say it, I had no idea. I stared at him, feeling cheated by his reaction. I wasn't sure whether I preferred him to be so accepting or whether I wanted him to put his hands around my neck and squeeze until I didn't have to deal with any of this anymore.