Bad Influence (Seven Deadly Sins #2) ✅ Completed

Chapter Two: Waking Up Sucks

Waking Up Sucks

I’ve often watched in movies how people awake from unconsciousness in phases; maybe first opening their eyes for a few minutes before passing out once again into oblivion. They do this once or twice until they’re really up for good.

What a flipping joke.

I screamed as I came awake, rolling around and flailing my arms like I was on fire. I'm sure I looked like something out of a really bad Kung-Fu movie, but I couldn’t help it. You might as well have asked me to stop breathing, or to stop getting into situations that were way over my mediocre life experience. 

I felt strong arms grab mine and force them down on the bed as a weight like a dead gorilla settled on my chest.

“Calm down, Eliza,” Dante said like an idiot, “You’re alright.”

I cursed, calling Dante every single horrible name I could think of. “I am not alright! Get off of me!” I shrieked.

I felt a rush of calming liquid silver wash over me, soothing the worst of the fire that was consuming my body. It took a few rounds, but finally I started feeling like just crap instead of crap on fire.

I groaned as I felt that horrible weight lift off my chest and cool heaven rushed down my throat. Had water always taste this fantastic? I couldn't be sure. All I knew was this stuff was amazing right now.

“Chase?” I asked when I could speak. Well, croaking would be a better description of my verbal capacity at this point.

“At home resting; he doesn’t remember much, just being sick,” Dante answered, setting the glass with the bent straw on the nightstand beside me. There was a large pitcher of the wonderful liquid there too, which perked me up a little.

“Good,” I sighed, feeling exhausted but remarkably better since Chase was okay.

“What do you remember, Eliza?” Dante asked me now.

“Besides the fact that your brother is a sadistic tool?” I groaned, trying to sit up and feeling like I’d just gone twelve rounds with a demon from hell.

Oh wait, I just had. No wonder I felt like warmed over crap.

Dante’s face didn’t even twitch, “Looks like you remember the blatantly obvious.”

“Don’t forget the not so blatantly obvious,” I snapped back, irritated with his general disregard for the fact that I was trying to get up and resume life as a human being.

“Which would be…?”

“The fact that Aunt Celeste wanted me to send her into that painting. She set the whole thing up.” I knew I was right the second I'd said the words aloud. Asher had planted the seeds of doubt and while I was knocked out, those seeds had grown into full-fledged redwoods. I was just too stupid not to have seen it before.

“Why the Monet and not another painting?” Dante asked curious.

“I don’t know,” I huffed out. "Maybe she just liked impressionists, or French haystacks, how the heck should I know? The point is she wanted me to send her somewhere she could be out of Asher's reach.” The painting was perfect. A place even he couldn’t follow – at least I didn’t think he could. It didn’t matter. I was pretty sure it was a permanent state, and right now it sure beat my own dismal prospects.

I couldn’t remember much about what happened with Asher in the shop, only that I never wanted it to happen again. I was pretty sure I dreamed about him while I’d been unconscious too, but it was like trying to hold onto water. Images and snatches of information kept sliding through my fingers.