The Fires of Spring

Chapter Twelve

Birdsong filled the air, and the warm, white light of the sun filled Lilith's vision. She flapped lazily, feeling the wind rise under her wings. She floated over the earth, the warm air enveloping her in its sweet, soft heat, and letting her set her wings and glide.

Time stretched on, broken only by Lilith's silent wingbeats and the sound of birds. She could see only the white sun and the blue sky and the gauzy clouds that rolled beneath her. There was no ground below, only the wind that took her higher and higher.

She felt herself drifting, and the sun grew brighter, brighter, brighter, until all she could see was a white light. Ringing sang in her ear, overcoming the birdsong and then receded to a soft, regular hum. She blinked, and the white began to give way to shapes, figures, that appeared out of a misty light.

She wanted the dream back, but it was not real. As she opened her eyes, she could not deny the reality of where she was. Lilith stretched, expecting to feel the scabs on her back flex and crack, expecting pain. There was nothing. She was in no pain. She was warm and dry and swaddled in something that was only a little less soft than the coat of feathers she'd had a moment before.

A turn of her head revealed that she was no longer in Visage's grasp. She was lying on her back in a bright, white room. A hospital room, she imagined. Though she was a stranger to them, she knew how to identify a hospital by its white furnishings, its well-concealed holoscreens and monitors, its astringent scent.

Christopher was sitting beside her, looking smug. Lilith had not imagined that he could look so impossibly flawless again - but there was not a single mark on his ivory beauty as a testament to his ordeal. The marks of the guards' hands, of Visage's fury, had vanished. His eyes shone, his hair gleamed, and his skin seemed to very nearly glow.

Lilith wondered how long she had been unconscious - a few days, perhaps? A week?

"Precisely the person I didn't want to see," she said to him. Her voice was soft and even, which she had not expected it to be. She remembered her throat burning as she had gasped for air on that table, yet her voice gave no testament to that torture.

"Don't be cruel, Lilith," he retorted. Her jibe had not injured him in the slightest. It seemed to have pleased him - she always did, whenever she rose to his teasing - and he pulled his chair closer to the bed.

Lilith ignored him, experimenting with sitting up. She ached all over, but there was hardy the burning, tearing pain of the ripping of flesh. Her head spun and she had barely the strength to move. Cursing her weakness, she struggled into a sitting position and assessed the situation.

"Where am I? What day is it?" she asked Christopher when she could not deduce either from her surroundings.

"The York Health Complex," said Christopher. "Fifty-seventh floor. East wing. You were upstairs a few days ago - ICU, apparently - but they moved you here yesterday."

"How long have I been here?" asked Lilith.

"Five days," said Christopher.

Lilith started at the information. She had been dead to the world for five days, in the care of strangers. No matter how benevolent the hands that had been laid upon her were, no matter how gentle the guardian of her delicate health, or kind the steward of her care, she despised the thought ot it.

"Why so long?" she asked. She had kept a careful inventory of her injuries - surely none was severe as to warrant five days under anaesthesia. Visage had made it clear that it was not his intention to kill, but to make suffer. Her lovely flesh was too beautiful to mar, he had said.

"When they came in to get us I thought you had only fainted. Your heart stopped four times, apparently," said Christopher. He waved his hand as though it was hardly worth noting, but Lilith watched how his eyes flickered to her face. The way his face momentarily tightened was either such a brilliant counterfeit of sympathy the like of which Lilith had not yet seen even from him, or a genuine expression of heartfelt concern. The first Lilith would have admired, the second she would not have understood.