Black Holes - The Mors Mortis Trilogy Book 3

Chapter Forty

"You know what I've never understood?" Cassandra said, her voice carrying across the quiet room. "How Brenton became what he did."

Zarah didn't looked up from where she was sitting by Danny's side. Leah, Jared and Alice had left a while ago now, and with nothing else to do, Zarah and Cassandra had barricaded the Brentons in their room and come up here, watching and waiting for Danny's to worsen.

Because he would worsen. No one had said it out loud, but Leah had stared at her brother for a full minute before they'd left, the grief on her face clear as day, and Zarah knew what that meant. Leah didn't think she'd see Danny again. And no one did either, based off the solemn silence Jared and Cassandra had answered her obvious grief with.

"What do you mean?" Zarah asked blankly, her eyes still on Danny. His hair looked even darker now that his skin had turned so pale and feverish. It was fascinating in a way that made something sick twist in her gut. Even on death's door he was beautiful. "Brenton was always this way, wasn't he?"

Cassandra was shaking her head in the corner of Zarah's vision before she'd even finished speaking.

"That's the thing," Cassandra said. "He wasn't. I knew him for a long time before he became so radical. Him and Patrick, Leah and Danny's father, were practically inseparable as children."

Zarah did look up at that. Cassandra didn't talk about Brenton much, for obvious reasons, but every time she did, it was with anger and fear. Now, something else was there too though, a suspicion Cassandra clearly hadn't been able to pin down yet.

Zarah watched her for a moment, wondering what exactly she was considering.

"It happens," Zarah said eventually. "Not everyone comes to the same conclusions about what's right and wrong, even with the same upbringing."

Cassandra's brow was furrowed, her eyes fixed on the window with an intensity that made Zarah think she wasn't actually seeing anything of the world outside it. A fact that was particularly startling because another portal had opened up on the horizon and was currently consuming a building with gusto. If they'd opened the window, Zarah was sure they'd be able to hear the screams of metal pulling apart, the crash and rumble as the structure crumbled.

"I know," Cassandra said. "Still, something is bothering me. None of us knew anything about what the world of the dead was actually like. Where did he get the idea to start experimenting with it in the first place?"

Zarah dropped her head into her hands, suddenly exhausted with this conversation, this world. Every cell in her body felt stuck on a knifes edge, teetering between despair and hope and fear.

She wanted to believe Leah and Jared could fix things before this world hit the point of no return. She wanted to believe all of this could, one day, become a bad dream. But the hope was exhausting her, and she didn't have room for this conversation, this analysis of what had already happened and couldn't be changed.

"Cassandra," Zarah said, her voice tired. "I'm sorry, but I just can't—"

Danny gave a violent jerk, a cry ripping from his lips, and they both jumped. Zarah swung back to face him, scanning him with panic. His face was screwed up as he muttered insensible words, his hands rising to fight something that wasn't there. The dark bruising had crept further along his chest, almost at his neck now.

Zarah grabbed a damp cloth from the bedside table and dabbed it against his forehead, her throat constricting as she hushed him, keeping her voice as gentle as possible.

"It's okay," she said, grabbing his wrists with her free hand and trying to coax them back down to the mattress to stop his struggles. "You're okay. You're safe."