Eclipse

23.

Admit

The sight of the manor as we approached the broken gates nearly brought my pancakes up. My fingers automatically drifted to the cuts that had been so meticulously inflicted across my hands and where the bands of metal had chafed my skin raw and bloody. There weren't any marks left, but there may as well have been. Ghosts of the scars bit through my flesh, but I breathed steadily and ignored the fantasy of pain.

Kieran had opted to sit next to me at the back of the car while Emory drove when he noticed my shaking hands that were clenched into fists so tight that I could feel blood trickling slowly from the shallow gashes where my nails had gouged out skin, staining my shirt a darker shade of black. While Emory drove recklessly through the night with swerves and hairpin turns, Kieran held my hands in his, gently urging me to relax and open my balled fists, but I felt as though I was gripping an electrocuted rod; I just couldn't let go.

"Why exactly are we here?" I asked Kieran quietly, staring up at the fast-approaching house with apprehension.

"The ritual, If this works... well, hopefully the Fallen will never again escape and the Nephilim race will either eventually die out or be overtaken by human genes.

"But... you said before that you needed a sacrifice?"

"The plan was originally that we would use one of the Nephilim that we'd caught here. It made the most sense, only it was too much sense. They figured it out first, and killed themselves the first chance they got. That's why the Nephilim you saw when we left blew their brains out with machine guns. Suicidal bunch, that's for sure," Kieran added with a small laugh with a slight edge to it. He soon realised his mistake at the sick expression on my face and hastily backtracked to make his words less gruesome but I batted his attempts away.

"So? Why do you need to come? Why do I need to come?"

"I... I need to be there to supervise. Keep an eye on things, make sure nothing goes wrong. As it is the gates are mangled from the screwed up ritual. We have to do the ritual right, tonight, or everything we've ever done will be in vain." I didn't fail to notice the odd hesitation in his tone, but accepted his excuse nevertheless.

"Being human feels strange," I finally said in an attempt to change the topic, looking down at our interlinked hands. My hands were flat against my thighs, and his were pressed against the palms, gently squeezing. The blood on my palms had scabbed over.

"Strange? How so?" he asked amusedly.

"I can't hear things like I used to. I can't see things like I used to. I can't smell things like I used to. Everything just feels... muted, I suppose is the best way to describe it. Then there's this emptiness in my head, you know? My wold... she was that little person in my head, company, of a sort. Now I'm alone... like my head's as empty as a flower pot. I just feel... cold and empty and numb all at the same time."

"It'll take time. Come on, let's get in there and get this over and done with," Kieran said as Emory braked suddenly at the end of the driveway, slowing to a halt just outside the front door. I nodded nervously. Kieran led me through the house and to the rooftops, or at least that's what I suspected. His hold on my hand was clammy and cold. Each step replayed that walk down the corridors with Jackson, in nothing but tatters and handcuffs, and I subconsciously tightened my grip on Kieran's hand.

"You'll be fine, Megan," he said softly.

"Don't call me that," I hissed, struggling to keep the pieces of me together. My voice was breathless as I struggled to get enough air into my lungs.

"What?" he asked, his confusion evident.

"Megan. I'm not Megan. I'm Jessica."

"Megan, are you okay—"