Her heart pumped double time. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Y-yes. Both for healing. One to heal faster, the other for pain.” Nodding, he set the empty jar next to the other one. At the door he turned back to her. “Good night, Lily.”
“Goodnight, Telal.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Only after she heard the elevator at the end of the hall ding, did she spring out of bed and race to the jars. She gripped them both, hugging them to her chest. That was so close, too close. Her mind raced, panicked. She'd lied to him. God that felt bad. Really bad. She wanted to go straight up to him now and confess. But she couldn't. They'd made so much progress, real progress. He'd talked to her for the first time tonight not in that snide, condescending way.
Fingers trembling she put away the pain jar and took the other over to her sack of goodies from Rosa's. The sweats came again, her fingers trembling. She'd been so tired before, reading to pass out and forget all about tonight, but now she'd seen the jar. No way could she get it out of her mind now. She mixed the herbs and liquid then poured it into the jar. She sniffed it delicately and grimaced. It did smell awful. Her stomach clenched with need and revulsion. Revulsion not at the drink but at herself.
Wrapping an arm around herself, she stared at the foggy liquid and when the first tear slid down her cheek she swiped it away quickly. With three big gulps, she drained the jar. It fell loosely from her fingertips, rolling a few circles across the fancy white carpet. Her head whirled, the room spinning around her for a moment. She felt dizzy as the warmth spread throughout her body and cells. It took longer than usual for the feeling to come. She'd missed her evening drink, that's all.
The word withdrawal came to mind, but she quickly shoved it out of her mind. Then the feeling came.
Joy, pure happiness, rapture.
Lily fell back on the carpet, laughing, her lips split in a big grin. Her body felt amazing, loose, and warm. Her mind was quiet and happy, no nasty thoughts intruding.
Smiling until her cheeks hurt, she climbed across the floor and up into bed where he'd pulled the sheets back. She tucked herself in and felt—amazing.
CHAPTER 20
Kearnyn headed to Telal's office after a fitful night's sleep. This was definitely unusual for him because normally something really fucked up would have to happen to make him miss sleep. Even during war times, ages ago, when his shift was over he'd hunker down in his trench, pull up his furs with his sword clenched between his hands, and pass out like a baby to sounds of clashing metal and cries of pain. It was just how he was made. He slept heavy and deep like a hibernating bear.
But not last night. Last night he'd tossed and turned going so far as to turn completely around in his bed and try sleeping with his head at the foot of the extra-long frame. Didn't work. It's not like he'd had a whole lot on his mind. He hadn't. But something didn't feel right; he just didn't know what it was.
Of course, Telal looked like a mess last night. He'd never seen Telal look like that. There'd been only a few times he'd seen his boss even disheveled. The first had been when the news came that Tobius en Kulev had been killed and the other was last night. Everything about Telal had been off. His demeanor, his words, his look. He'd been passive, everything he said sounded like an afterthought. He'd looked...sad. Whatever happened in that rift had been bad, that much he knew.
Kearnyn bit back a curse as he went into the office. He stopped at once. The room was dark. What the... He checked his watch to make sure of the time. 6:00 in the morning on the dot. Telal was always up and working right now. Fuck, this must be worse than he'd thought.
Switching on the lights as he went, he opened Telal's bedroom door and flicked on the light switch. The lights flickered on to show an empty bed without as much as a wrinkle in the perfectly made comforter. Not a scrap of clothes were left on the floor—nothing.
This had to be really bad.
Kearnyn thought for a moment, and then went with his gut. He knew where he was.
Back at the elevator, he hit the button for floor thirty-five. The doors dinged open and a short path down the hall was a solid white door with a key code on the side. Kearnyn punched in the digits and the door unlocked with a whoosh of compressed air. Inside he heard a mixture of blaring noises, a television and music playing at the same time at a decibel that even a deaf person could hear. Cringing at the offensive sounds, he walked inside not knowing what to expect.
“Shit,” he cursed.
The rec room was Telal's personal space. To Telal, the space was more personal than his bedroom or office. This was where he went if he wanted to work out, meditate, or in this case...get stinking drunk while blaring every electronic in the apartment.
Telal sat in a leather chair, a beer in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. The Jack had only a sliver of liquid left inside. Only when Telal lifted the beer can to his lips did Kearnyn sigh with relief. At least he was still alive. Telal faced a large flat screen television that took up most of the wall with some kind of horror flick playing on it. A woman was running from a masked man with a big butcher's knife in his hand. Kearnyn smirked at it. Somehow, though she was running and he walking, the killer seemed to keep pretty darn close to her the whole time.
Stalking to the radio, blaring some kind of rap with a throbbing beat, Kearnyn killed the power. Instantly, the tension in his head eased. The woman on the television screamed as the killer neared her. Her cry seemed to pierce straight through his ear drums.
Kearnyn was trained for many things—picking up after his slobbering drunk boss was not one of them. Still, he went to him and hunkered down to meet him on eye level.
“Sir...” Shit, he stalled for words. He didn't know what to say.
Telal's gaze slowly slid from the TV to him. His eyes were red, glossy, and low-lidded. On closer inspection, everything about him looked wrong. His blue hair looked like a bird had made a nest out of it. It was fuzzy and matted like he'd spilled something in it; and its normal sheen looked dull and lifeless.
“Where'd the music go?” he slurred.
“I turned it off, sir. Can I help you get to your room?”
One eyebrow lifted. “Why'd I wanna go there? That song was my jam.”
Kearnyn frowned. This was more awkward and difficult than he'd thought it'd be. “'Yous a hoe' is your jam, sir?”
“Yes, in fact, buy me the rest of that artist's albums. I want all of his music. Pure genius, Kearnyn. Genius.”
“Yes...sir.” Kearnyn stood, not knowing what to do. “Sir, can I get you something? Food, water, a bed perhaps?”
Telal choked on a laugh. “You are funny, my friend. No, if you don't mind leave me now. I wish to drown alone, thank you.”
Drown alone? That sounded like some suicidal shit right there. Kearnyn took the bottle of Jack and beer out of Telal's hands and stalked to the kitchen. He'd leave, but first he was tossing all this shit out.
“Where are you going?” Telal asked in a deadly voice.
Suddenly pressure encased Kearnyn's body; his steps stopped, leg muscles spasming from some outside source, and tight suffocating pain enveloped him from head to toe. Fuck, not his magic. Sweat pooled on his brow. Burning pain breached his skin, singeing his nerves like he was standing over a fire. Then of their own accord, his body turned and he marched back to Telal. Telal’s glare held a spark of deep hatred that Kearnyn had never seen before. When Telal tore the bottle and can out of his hand he actually sighed in relief. As soon as he had them back, the look receded. The burning magic around him faded until he regained movement in his own body.