The Attic (Completed)

Chapter 34

Miriam was certain she must be dead or dreaming.

The male Oreala was more handsome than any creature she'd ever seen. His skin was a shimmering silver and his wings were black and partly folded behind him.

She'd never seen a real male Oreala before and believed them extinct; especially after Morack's tyranny over Alvernia.

"How bad are you hurt?" he asked with a strong timbre voice.

She gawked up at him. "How . . . where . . . who—"

"My name is Targolan. I arrived through the trunk last night."

She blinked twice. "You mean there are still Orealas alive in Alvernia?"

"There are many survivors in hiding."

"But how-how did you know we were in trouble—?"

"All of us that came through the trunk last night fled to the forest, for this mansion is overrun with ghouls. We found others out there who are planning to attack at any time now. Your friend Lily is among them—Serena's last heir, I'm told." He paused. "From the fringe of the forest we saw a chunk of the attic wall get blown away. I'd been informed that an Oreala had been sent to lock the trunk and was probably in grave danger. Since I could get here quickest, I was sent to investigate."

He reached down and helped her to her feet with a firm hand. Her bloodied skirts were plastered to her legs and she self-consciously tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear, and put all her weight on her good leg.

"How bad are you hurt?" he asked again, motioning to her mangled wing. "We need to get you out of here before Morack's lemmings come to investigate. I'm surprised they aren't already here. If we saw the explosion, no doubt they heard it." He surveyed the room.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to fly out of here," she said with great difficulty, the pain suffocating her voice and reducing it to a rasp. "My wing is broken and I've torn the ligaments in my leg, so I can only hobble at best. You're going to have to leave me here. Please. It's okay. Go. And take these—" She handed him the trunk keys.

"No one else needs to die in this room," he said gravely, looking down at the mutilated body of poor Mae. Miriam stifled a sob and closed her eyes against the unbearable sight.

"I'll fly you out of here."

"There's no way you'll be able to stay airborne carrying me." She opened her eyes. He was looking down at her tenderly.

"I'll manage," he said, squatting to put one sturdy arm under her knees and the other around her back, beneath her wings. He then straightened as though she weighed nothing at all, and turned and headed to the gaping hole in the wall. Her heart was pounding; surely they would plummet to their deaths. There was no way his wings were strong enough to carry her as well. But she was too weak to protest further.

They stood in the opening and she looked down at the stone walkway far below. They'd never survive a drop to the ground from this height.

"Here we go," he said, leaping through the gap in the wall without further delay, keeping his wings tucked until he'd cleared the opening. Then he whipped them out to full breadth. But instead of flapping to remain airborne, as she'd anticipated, he held them straight and glided to the ground below on a steady angle.

They landed hard at the edge of the driveway, having cleared the entire front walkway with the glide. He let out a grunt as he struggled to keep his footing while still cradling her in his arms. Coming to a full stop, he folded his wings behind him—but instead of putting her down, he continued to hold her as Moya appeared from the foliage to meet them. Miriam exchanged a look with Moya and the sudden tears that sprang up in the Oreala's eyes confirmed she had received the tacit message that Mae had perished. The three of them entered the cloak of the forest together. Overwhelmed with pain and exhaustion, Miriam rested her head on Targolan's chest and slipped out of consciousness.