Ablaze Without Flames

Chapter 12, Part 3 - Thea

Thea could understand Blaise not wanting to be touched, but she still found herself wanting to reach out and take his arm as they walked the long way round back to Maisie's. She'd had to remind him to put up his shrouds before they left the house, and he spent at least half a minute deciding whether it was worth the effort, or whether he had the energy to do it. His steps were heavy, thumping on the pavement. He clutched his injured hand to his chest, and the few glimpses Thea had gotten of it revealed red chafed and swollen skin, possibly a fracture. His eyes didn't lift from the ground, jaw clenched and mouth set in a grim line.

They didn't talk. The urge to ask if he was okay was nearly overwhelming, but of course she knew he wasn't. His face was still covered in blood, and his bowed head could only do so much to hide it, so she walked on the outer edge of the pavement to try and cover him. She'd spotted Oliver following them at a distance but didn't mention it to Blaise. He probably already knew anyway.

Maisie opened the door with her phone still in hand. She squeaked at the sight of Blaise, an attempt to muffle a scream.

The three of them stared at each other across the threshold for an uncomfortable number of seconds. Thea broke the silence first. 'Can we come in?'

'Oh. Yeah, of course,' said Maisie, stepping aside. 'My God, what happened? Are you hurt?'

'Obviously,' Blaise hissed. Maisie stepped back a step. She turned a frowning gaze on Thea instead, who could think of nothing else to do but usher him to sit down on the sofa without touching him. He perched on the very edge of the cushions and didn't look at either of them.

'Do you have a first aid kit?' she asked, heading for the kitchen.

Maisie followed close behind. 'Thea, what happened?' she whispered, hovering at her side while Thea ran hot water from the kitchen tap into a bowl. 'He looks like he's just escaped a prison camp or something.'

'They were holding him captive.'

'Who is they? Why?'

Thea inhaled deeply and prayed for patience. 'It's complicated.'

'Yeah, I got that much, Thea.' She glanced over her shoulder at the living room door. Blaise was out of sight. 'You said you'd explain later,' Maisie went on. 'Now is later. Blaise is back and safe-ish, so you need to start talking.'

Thea gritted her teeth, a million different ways she might explain this flying through her mind and none of them appealing. 'Fine. Do you have that first aid kit?'

'We have plasters,' Maisie snapped, yanking open a drawer to reveal a half-empty box.

'Thank you. Can you take them through? I need to find a cloth.' Maisie clicked her teeth and flounced out.

A second later, she screamed.

Thea dropped the cloth she'd found beneath the sink and sprinted through, nearly colliding with Maisie's back in the living room doorway. Over her shoulder, Blaise hadn't moved, but he had dropped the shrouds. He was facing away from them, like the scream was a problem that would go away if he ignored it.

Well, at least explaining might be a bit easier if she could tell the full truth, Thea thought, squeezing past her gaping friend. She swept up the dropped box and perched on the coffee table in front of him. 'What are you doing?' she whispered.

'Can't focus,' he mumbled, eyes closed. His ears were folded nearly flat and his tail rested across his lap, wrapping all the way around his waist.

Maisie remained a statue, rigid as marble, fingers splayed, jaw slack, a ring of white around her irises. Thea stood and offered her friend a weak smile that turned into a grimace, muttering, 'I said it was complicated.' She hovered between them for a moment, wondering if it was safe to leave them alone for the thirty seconds she needed to get some warm water. Deciding to risk it, she darted back into the kitchen. On her return, she found them looking much the same, both barely breathing even, and entertained for just a second the absurd notion that some greater power had pressed pause on them.

Thea returned to her spot on the coffee table with the bowl and cloth in her lap. 'May I?' she said to Blaise, voice soft, afraid any sharp noise may frighten him. He opened his eyes a fraction, stared down at the wetted cloth for several agonising beats before shaking his head in a single, jerking nod.

She worked slowly, starting with the patches where the blood had dried and flaked without touching any wounds. He didn't seem to enjoy the touch, exactly, but he didn't reject it either. Dabbing at his cut lip made him flinch, and Maisie—who had been all but forgotten by both of them—gasped and whimpered, 'Oh God, it moved.' His ear, Thea supposed she was referring to.

Taking a breath, Thea started to explain everything from their first meeting, which was little more than a meeting of eyes. She revealed everything that had happened to both of them since, everything that Blaise had told her of his kind and his home world. She was glad Sam was no longer here, unsure if he would take it as well as Maisie. If semi-paralysed could be considered taking it well. Blaise didn't contest any of it, so she assumed she'd got most of it correct.

'...Okay,' Maisie squeaked when Thea finished. 'Shall I...I'm going to make something to eat,' she said, whirling around and disappearing back towards the kitchen.

Thea grimaced and went back to work on Blaise's bloodied face. He looked better already, but the skin beneath his eyes was bruised, the faint purple fading into a yellowish hue across his cheekbones. She said, 'Tell you what; we'll eat here and then you can wash and rest at mine. How does that sound?'

His eyes blinked open. 'Are you sure you want me there?'

It was a question she hadn't been expecting, and found she didn't have much of an answer for. She hadn't considered wanting his company; just that he should have at least one safe space. His injured wrist—she suspected a break—was still pinned to his chest, his other hand wrapped around it in a way that should have been painful. Maybe it was. She didn't want to ask. Needless to say, Damien South had been right: he couldn't wander into a hospital to get it x-rayed.

'Your wrist needs proper treatment,' she said, deflecting.

He revealed the injury, demonstrating a rotation if his wrist without much of a flinch. The swelling had reduced considering and the bruising had reduced to a thin bracelet of blue and purple. 'A little longer and it will be fine,' he muttered.

Thea stared, even after he covered it back up. 'How did you do that?'

Blaise shrugged. 'The Craft can do a lot of things if you know how to manipulate it.' His eyes flicked up and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Thea followed his gaze to her own bandaged hand and wondered if he was going to apologise.

Instead, his own injury momentarily forgotten, he picked up her hand between both of his and covered the hidden puncture wounds. His palms were warm, the heat turning to a tickling sensation even through the bandages, like the brush of a feather. Thea supposed she shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore, but maybe it wasn't the fact that he could heal that was surprising so much as his willingness to share it with her.

He released her after just a few minutes, returning his attention to his own wrist. Thea abandoned the washcloth to peel off the bandage, expecting—yes, just two pale circles on her skin where the skin had been punctured.

She looked down and rinsed the cloth, flakes of blood crumbling into the water and turning it a pale brown. 'Thank you.'

There came a crash from the kitchen followed by a string of colourful curses. Blaise's mouth tightened and Thea wondered whether it might have been a repressed smirk.

*