Jaded
by Sarah Fish
Chapter 6
They returned home to find Cyrus lying unconscious in the hallway.
The old man lay inside the doorway, hands grasping at the long line of carpet before him. He'd fallen on his satchel, crushed God-only-knew-how-many Zydrate vials, then, judging by the glowing snail-trail preceding his feet, dragged himself hand-over-hand across the threshold before his strength finally gave out. Glittering puddles seeped from beneath his body, like shimmering blue blood in the moonlight.
"Huh," was all Zeb could manage. Jade eyed the scene with a mixture of disgust and curiosity, taking a tentative step forward. Zeb put out his hand to stop her. "Watch your step," he warned, "This shit's all over the place."
Glass crunched underfoot as Zeb squatted down beside Cyrus. A quick check of his blue-spattered neck revealed a pulse – faint and slow – and Zeb thought long and hard about just leaving him there. Let the bastard die. But then his conscience kicked in. He grabbed the old man's shoulders, rolled him onto his back before he could change his mind again.
"Shit!"
Warmth flooded Zeb's hands. Behind him, Jadie screamed, and the world turned onto its side. The floor slid out from beneath feet, and he went down hard onto his hip, heard something tear through his pants. He scooted backward, staggered back to his feet, and ran into the wall, legs refusing to obey his thoughts. "Get back," he managed, cutting Jadie's cry short.
The front of Cyrus' body was fucking covered in Zydrate, the carpeting soaked with it. Shards of glass stuck out of the rug in vicious lines of glittering teeth. Jesus. Cyrus hadn't been carrying a satchel with a few vials, he'd been carrying a whole tray of the stuff down to his lab and gone face-down in the middle of it.
Christ, Zeb thought, Dealers die from shit like this all the time.
The room tilted again and he grabbed at the wall as it spun out of reach. Missed. Looked down. Saw glass embedded in the palms of his hands, dark red blood mingling with glowing blue running down his wrists and arms and legs.
His knees buckled.
The floor rushed up in a wave of Zydrate and glass. An imagined nanosecond of pain as the jagged teeth slice through his pants again. Jade screaming his name. Fleeting thoughts of, "What a stupid way to die." A wave of warmth, of boneless relaxation.
Then, nothing more.
Then, agony beyond belief.
He burned. Angry green and white flames consuming his flesh. Lightning shooting through his veins, running from scalp to toes in soul-searing waves of pain. It caressed impossible places. The inside of his eyes. Deepest parts of his ears. The fragile skin beneath his fingernails.
He was dead. And this was hell.
But then…light. Two shadowy figures circling him, speaking in voices he feels in the marrow of his bones.
One of the circling figures sweeps closer, resolves itself into a large dove. She settles on his chest, tiny talons poking into his chest like kitten's claws, her dark feathers oil-slick iridescent. Wherever she touches bare skin, relief flows across his body in cool blue waves. "I have to," the bird coos, dark eyes bottomless and sorrowful.
The second figure descends, and teeth snap the air inches away from the dove as a jackal leaps up beside him. Hackles raised, he circles the dove while she flutters her spun-sugar wings, growling out words low in its throat. "Goddamnit, you're gonna make an addict out of him, just like the old man."
Spun-sugar wings beat up a hurricane, and the jackal yelps. When the storm passes, his muzzle bleeds from a dozen scratches. He snaps at the bird, coming away with a handful of tail feathers which dissolve into cinders as they fall from his teeth.
The dove shrieks. A universe-ending cry of rage and pain. She draws herself back into the shadows, growing into something dark and terrible and beautiful. Zeb wants to cower, to throw himself before her, beg mercy from this long-forgotten goddess who has come upon him in this place. Then she speaks, shattering his lamentations, and the flames cover his flesh again. "Do you want me to save him or not?"
Quaking, the jackal tucks tail and buries its muzzle beneath Zeb's arm. Each brush of fur slicing his skin open. Breath scalding the raw and open places. "He's gonna crash, Mercy…he's gonna crash," he whines.
The winged goddess hovers over Zeb, brushing the flames from his body. Her touch, a balm to his blistered flesh. Her words a gentle lullaby. Everything slipping away to leave deepening shadows and a roaring noise like the ocean filling his ears.
Then, from somewhere far above, God spoke. And his voice was that of a jackal.
"Hang on for me, kid. Hang on."
Author's Note: Is this...dear God....could it be? An update after over a year of inactivity? By Pavi Largo's face-clips, I believe it is. This story was never really dead, it was just in hibernation for a while. Here's to continuing the story...more chapters to come...
