Abaddon's Mark

Chapter Nineteen

Graydon opened his door to a tearful Naena and a message from Theon. She blabbered something at him, and he grunted, let her in, then silenced her with a motion. He read the message, read the report, then set it on his desk.

Considering her condition just a few days before, Graydon had expected much worse.

He sat on his bed and patted it.

She tried blabbering something at him again, so he patted the bed once more.

Naena sat.

"You are my focus and concern," he said. "Theon has hinted he gave you a command."

"To ask for and accept the temporary binding that you can do against my magic," she said.

"Right, seven days. Tonight you sleep here. There will be someone posted outside the door. They will take you to dinner and bring you back here. Tomorrow you will be accompanied by one of us everywhere you go. These are all outed members. Means the university knows they're Seven. Seven days. No more, no less. Understand?"

"Yes."

"But you don't like it."

"Stop wasting time. He needs help."

She said to the wall across from his bed rather than to him. After too long, her eyes flickered to him. A smouldering hatred burned there.

"Seven days, and you can go find him yourself," Graydon responded.

He marched to his desk and grabbed the little bloodwood box from inside the top drawer. He slammed it shut before he marched back to Naena.

"The robe has to come off," he said.

She hesitated for a moment, then took it and pulled it off, dropping it into her lap where she held it against herself as if the only part which might need to be covered was what found itself nestled between her legs.

No marks remained on her skin from the liquid magic and all the rest. All that remained was the demon's bite mark and the strange pock marks that she said she received from a childhood disease on her arm.

"This is going to feel..." he hesitated.

"Like someone is reaching inside of me without my permission and binding me against my will?" she asked.

"Only you could turn this into a sex thing," he said.

"Is it a sex thing?"

"My father did it to me, let's not make this a sex thing," he said.

"Is it?"

"It's... it's trust and knowing," he said as he settled beside her. Aware of the differences between them. Not just in her lack of clothing but in the mirrored effect of their childhoods. "It's a being so involved in this and knowing that the other isn't doing it to do harm. No malice in this. Just you and me and an understanding that this is best for you to heal but that you want nothing to do with it. And if I could? I'd have nothing to do with it. Luren is an ass, but he is a good healer, better than Qual."

"Qual?"

"My healer."

"Better than your healer?"

"Qual was born a healer, trained alongside Luren. Luren is better. Discounting everything, Luren is a spectacular mage. Amazing. So, the way he is? I trust him when he says this. Ready?"

"No," she said.

"Learn," he said. "Feel it, how it moves, how it acts. You won't understand the full spell, how it works, what it does? Sure. But not where it comes from, not what it means."