This Savage Song (Monsters of Verity #1)(76)

Up ahead, the woods came into sight. Memory flickered behind her eyes. The barricade of trees that looked dense but gave way to a smaller field, half a mile in.

And a house.

They crossed the tree line before Kate realized that she couldn’t hear August’s steps behind her anymore. She turned and found him a little ways back, running his fingertips thoughtfully over a chestnut tree.

“Come on,” she called. “We’re almost there.” He didn’t move. “August?”

“Shhh,” he said, closing his eyes. “It finally stopped.”

She walked back toward him. “What stopped?”

“The gunfire,” he whispered.

Kate frowned, looked around. “What are you talking about?”

August’s eyes drifted open again, his gaze fixed on the rough bark. “Leo was wrong,” he said softly, his voice strangely musical. “He told me it was who I was, what I was, and I believed him, but he was wrong, because I’m still here.” He broke into a boyish grin. She had never seen him smile, not like that. “I’m still here, Kate.”

“Okay, August,” she said, confused, “you’re still here.”

“The hunger hurt so much at first, but now—”

Kate froze. “How long have you been hungry?”

He just laughed. A simple, delighted noise that sounded so wrong coming from his lips. And then his gaze met hers and Kate caught her breath. His eyes were burning. Not just fever-bright, but on fire, the centers icy blue, the edges licked with gold.

It was like staring into the sun. She had to look away. “August—”

“It’s okay,” he said cheerfully, “I’m better now, don’t you see, I’m—”

“About to set the woods on fire,” she said, coming toward him with her hands up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked around, as if there might be a sinner conveniently waiting, but of course, there were no sinners nearby, because there were no people nearby. They were in the middle of a f*cking forest in the middle of the f*cking countryside. Kate closed her eyes, trying to think, and then felt a flash of heat and opened them to find August’s fingers grazing her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he said gently.

She pulled back. “Your hand.”

“My hand,” he echoed, considering it. “It looks like yours but it’s not because I’m not, I’m not like you, you look like me . . . but that’s wrong isn’t it—”

“August.”

“—I look like you, but you were born and grew and I wasn’t and then was, not like this, not exactly, smaller, younger . . . ,” he rambled, a kind of manic energy rising in his voice, “. . . but I start from nothing and then all of a sudden I’m something, all at once, like the opposite of death, I’ve never thought of it that way. . . .”

She touched his forehead, jerked away. “You’re really burning up.”

He smiled, that dazzling, delighted smile. “Just like a star. Did you know that all the stars are burning? It’s just a whimper and a bang, or a bang and a whimper, I can’t remember, but I know that they’re burning. . . .” She turned, and started pulling him through the trees. Heat wicked off him now, and flowed over her skin where it met his sleeve. “So many tiny fires in the sky, and so much dark between them. So much darkness. So much madn—” He cut off. “No.”

“What is it?”

He jerked free, brought his hands to his head. “No, no, no . . . ,” he pleaded, folding to his knees. “Anger, madness, joy, I don’t want to keep going.”

“Come on,” whispered Kate, crouching beside him. “We’re almost there.”

But he’d started shaking his head, and couldn’t seem to stop. She could feel the anxiety rippling off him like heat, seeping into her skin. His lips were moving, and she could just make out the words. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist to help him up. His shirt was slick and she thought it must be sweat, but the rest of him looked dry and when she pulled back, her fingers came away black.

“August,” she said slowly. “I think you’re bleeding.”

He looked down at his body as if he didn’t recognize it, and when he didn’t move, Kate reached out and guided up his shirt. She could see the place where a bullet had graze his ribs. He touched his side and stared at the streak of blackish blood on his hand as if it was a foreign thing. The manic smile was gone, and suddenly he looked young and sad and terrified.

“No,” he whispered. “This is wrong.”

He was right.

Sunai were supposed to be invincible.

Nothing is invincible.

It had to be the hunger, somehow wearing away at his strength.

“Let’s go,” she said, trying to help him up, but he pulled her down instead. Her knees sank into the mossy earth, and his fingers dug into her arms. He was shaking now, the short-lived euphoria plunging into something else. Tears streamed down his face, evaporating before they reached his jaw.

“Kate,” he said with a sob. “I can’t keep going toward the edge—don’t let me fall.” His breath hitched. “I can’t I can’t do it again I can’t go dark again I’m holding on to every little piece and if I let go I can’t get them back I don’t want to disappear—”