Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter fifty-seven

Chapter fifty-seven

The torch flame swept across the walls in a fiery rush, in search for its designated sconce. Rev spoke while I sought, his words hoarse and frail.

"I knew you were here the first night you came, girlie. Sensed your dreams. By then I was too weak to appear in them, though. To warn you about down here."

I found the bracket and mounted the torch. Rev continued.

"Joseph told me about the boy's power. How he can sense things. I was depending on that to be found. But it's been so long, girlie. I was afraid he'd. . . gone. He hadn't, had he?"

"Not yet." I crouched down before him. He had only enough strength to situate half his upper body up against the wall, leaving him at an awkward angle. This close, his stench worsened. "I cannot stay."

He stared at me for a beat. "Girlie," he said. He rubbed at his eyes. "Forgive me. I. . . I must be seeing things."

"You are not insane."

He looked at me again. "So he's done it then." He pressed the back of his head to the wall, biting his lip. "I've never heard of your eyes changing color. That's—that's a new one, girlie."

His chest shuddered, the kind of vibration only a sob could cause.

I was silent. With each breath Rev took, the indentations of his rib cage surfaced his wrinkled shirt. Once ageless in appearance, fine lines engraved his skin, and a short, grayish beard had grown on his sunken face. It was a blessing his health hadn't taken him yet.

"I prayed for his failure. I begged him not do it. I am so, so sorry, girlie." His eyes watered in the firelight. "He is not. . . he is not Dalea Raven's son. She would be so heartbroken, as I am. He has hurt so many, and will continue to do so to get everything he wants. I fear if he doesn't kill me first my heartache will." He pressed on, weary and depressing and tired. "I have tried to do everything for that boy. I've let him turn me into a fool. Let him use me over and over. And still—still he doesn't understand how sorry I am for all those years ago.

"He is not my son. You understand that, girlie? He's not Dalea's. He's not mine. You should see the way he looks at me. Every time he comes I wonder if the day's my last." His head dropped into skeletal hands. "Why doesn't he just kill me already? Why make me suffer like this?"

And then, after a heavy sob, "What have I done to him but love him?"

For a minute, I watched him demolish. Then I stood, walked to the torch. "I will return to you."

"And I'll make sure you never dream this."

Rev, even without explanation, even in his current distress, understood. I grasped the torchlight and gave him one nod before leaving.

"Azra and Eshan." I stepped into their cell, right into a puddle. From sitting cross-legged on the floor, they both sprang into a stand, shoulders hunched, untrustworthy and guarded. I settled the torch unto the wall and looked at them. The Dev's. They were brown, dark hair as mangled as Rev's. Eshan, a tall, wide man that did not look as old as he stood, pushed his wife Azra, who was taller than he, behind him, hiding his own weakness in order to guard his woman.

"Who are you?"

The way his voice resembled the sound of stone scraping against stone conveyed his thirst. I held a finger to my lips. "Only I will do the talking."