Bereft: Foretold

14 | An Explosive Farewell

That night was the longest night I'd ever experienced in my prolonged life.

I lay awake long after I'd settled into my bed, my gaze fixed upon the ceiling and the watery glow upon it painted by the streetlights. It was silent in the house but for the hushed, fervent whispering of the witch as she tried to contact any sisters who'd escaped the Baba Yaga raid, telling them to flee or to hide, to get out of the city, to stay away from any mages, and to stop using their magic. 

Judging by her smothered weeping, I gathered she was met with limited success. 

The minutes ticked by with agonizing lethargy. My attention remained wholly centered upon the Absolian's wellspring of energy, sensing its every movement as the creature roved Amoroth's city. The Sin and I had wagered my brother wouldn't come to Evergreen Acres—but whenever its overwhelming presence inched closer, my entire body broke out in a cold sweat that would only recede when the presence once more drifted away.

The earliest flight to Itheria wasn't until after dawn. All night I counted my breaths, and wondered how many I had left.

Sara's scent surrounded me, though I'd washed and changed the bedding twice by now. The smell was a phantom conjured by my tired delirium, a torture worsening with every inhalation, a constant reminder of her absence and my continuation. I wished she was there, if only because of her uncanny ability to settle my mind. Her perspective of the world and how she approached complicated issues had reaffirmed my own views, and what I'd once thought were needling, unnecessary questions had given me unfounded clarity.

Cuxiel had often inquired why I hadn't wanted to kill the girl—and, if anything, the clarity she'd created in a world of maddening white noise had been reason enough. 

The time illuminated on the alarm clock flickered, then began to beep. The sound lasted for only a second before I silenced it, already dressed and on my feet. Grim, I dragged a long sleeved shirt over my arms before snatching up my cursory carryon bag and entering the hallway. The witch had managed to finally fall asleep, slumped over her knees, dressed in more of Sara's cast-off clothing. Her mutt dozed at her side.

I didn't hesitate to wake her. "Oi," I snapped, kicking the end of the couch. "Get up!" The woman jerked upright with a strangled cry, and the dog growled, baring teeth. I returned the sentiment.

"What—?!"

"Get up," I repeated as I walked toward the door. "Either we leave now, or you get left behind, witch. Make your choice."

Naturally, Saule chose to come with me, scrambling to shove her feet into her wet shoes and to gather the bag stuffed with more of Sara's things. Neither of us cared if we had a change a clothes or not, but our chances of getting on the plane were unlikely if we raised suspicions by not having luggage.

Amoroth's car was like most of her other cars; low to the ground, crafted with supine lines, and coupled with an obscene price tag. It was black in color, and all the windows were tinted beyond what was considered legal by mortal authorities, though I doubted that had ever come into Amoroth's consideration. The car was new; I had trashed her last one.

The witch opened the backseat and proceeded to usher the dog inside. 

"What are you doing?" I demanded as I slung my bag aside and sunk into the driver's seat, glaring at her. The witch looked at me with tired, guileless green eyes as the dog got into the car. "We can't bring that feathered monstrosity with us! We won't be able to get it on the plane!"