XAVIER
Walking between the Streeters in rags, we journeyed through the buildings. Indianapolis was a much more spacious city than the ones we usually visited. The crowd wasn't as thick and the skyscrapers, which weren't quite so neck-breaking, were given breathing room.
I could feel Arielle's presence next to me, but I barely paid her much attention. I was too focused on my mother who was smiling and pointing at the different buildings and landmarks. Her hand gently rested on my arm as if she was trying to guide me.
"I always loved bringing you two to this city when you were younger. Much harder to lose you in these crowds than in the other cities, especially since you two were explorers."
"Xavier was the one doing most of the slipping away," Damien remarked from mom's other side. "I was only the innocent child dragged along on his escapades."
"Nope," Arielle jumped in. "That was me. You were a willing accomplice."
"Lies."
"Plus, this one didn't have another city floating above it to block the sun," she continued.
She lifted her face up to the sky, closing her eyes and basking in the gentle warmth, her skin perfectly clear. Not a single grey strand appeared amidst her chestnut hair. While my father looked older than he was, my mother always seemed to be twenty years younger whether it came to personality or appearance.
"If you wanted the sun, we could've gone to Los Demonios," Gladys remarked. "At least the surroundings would've been more interesting."
"I just felt the urge to visit Indianapolis for a change," she responded and winked at Arielle.
Arielle asked my mother instead of her's. It wasn't a bad move as Gladys would've refused while my mother would simply analyze the implications of the situation and decide based on the consequences. I wouldn't be surprised if Arielle even told her the extent of our plan to bring back her sister.
Of course, my mother always manipulated by using people's trust. She'd been building Arielle's trust in her since we were children, even when Arielle was only supposed to be a royal. Having Arielle's trust could let my mother manipulate her however she wished when she ascended the throne.
I believe my mother does the same for Damien and me, taking the role of confidant in our family. After all, it was how she survived. The tactic was engrained into her as it let her climb to such grand heights from a measly second-generation Lower Court assassin to fighting for a spot amongst the Upper Court. And, once she got there, the same tactic made her win over my father and make her Queen of the Intellects.
I would be a fool to pretend that some of the affection she showed was pure, but it would also be petulant to believe there was no love in her actions.
"Do you remember that fountain?"
My mother pointed at a rising fountain, its sides grey and dull compared to the ones in Cressida. I shook my head.
"A few times, when you were six, you would climb up onto the ledge and dance around the fountain in circles. The Streeters laughed and cheered and would ask when was the next time you would dance. You always used to clap and say 'When everyone else is too tired to do it!'"
Her eyes sparkled at the memory and I offered the smallest smile. Her grin turned wide.
"Here we are," Gladys announced.
We stopped across the street from the wide doors of a boutique store. The store sat at the very bottom of a large glass skyscraper, though—looking through the glass—there didn't appear to be anything of value in the lower floors.
"We should hurry up then," mother said. "Already spent more time than planned getting here."
Please. This was going exactly as my mother planned. My father isn't an idiot who would marry another idiot who couldn't simply estimate the time it would take to get places.
"What about the children?"
My mother looked between us. "I don't believe you boys have any interest in walking into the store with us."
"Actually," Damien began, "I broke one of my watches and I grew out of my navy blue suit so I would very much like to replace both."
Arielle glared at him since he was going against her plan, though if she wasn't so quick to anger she would realize that we weren't needed for her to interrogate a single girl. Honestly, Unassailables are such idiots.
"Well," my mother answered, "I do believe you would be needing more than one new suit and watch considering I hid all of your day clothes and accessories away, but I don't intend to spend our money to fix the state I put you in. You can wear your pajamas or the Streeter clothes you are now for the rest of the month."
Damien's mouth fell open. "I can't walk into an Upper Court meeting wearing pajamas!"
"You very much can."
"I'm not supposed to!"
"You're not supposed to be sneaking out, but you did it anyway last night."
Damien shut his mouth and crossed his arms, glaring like a whiny seven-year-old who was denied ice cream.
"Arielle, sweetie," she said, ignoring her son's reaction. "How about you? Would you like anything from the store?"
Arielle looked between Damien and I before saying, "No, Mrs. Kingston. I'll just tour the city with them."
"So, it's settled," she responded and took Gladys's hand, dragging her across the street. "Come along."
Arielle and Damien shouted their goodbyes as I gave a nod.
Damien looked at Arielle. "Which way, Your Supremacy?"
Arielle glared and nodded south. "A few blocks down should lead us to a building she usually frequents."
Damien motioned her forward. "Ladies first."
"When did you grow so polite?"
"I'm not being polite. I'm just trying to make sure you two don't smooch behind my back."
Arielle punched his arm and whispered, "Not so loud."
"Oh, come on. No one can recognize us," Damien countered. "Besides, people living in big cities don't pay attention to others very much. Like this."
He stopped walking and cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.
"Guess what, everyone?! These two like each other!" he shouted, the voice so loud it echoed through the buildings.
Numerous heads turned and stared at the three of us. Arielle's cheeks flared a bright red as she looked at all the watching eyes.
"Sorry, guess I was wrong," Damien apologized, not looking very apologetic.
"Because this isn't a big city, dumbass," Arielle hissed.
"Hey! Watch who you call a dumbass, dumbass."
Arielle rolled her eyes. "Shut up and move."
We journeyed through the streets, Damien's antics long forgotten as he finally fell into an unusual silence. Arielle twirled a finger through her golden-white hair, a nervous habit disguised to look not all that nervous.
At least she wasn't idiotic enough to not feel nervous. Tressa Richards, from what I've seen during our brief meeting, wasn't someone to be worried about. However, she was loyal enough to Phoenix to not answer us and instead tell Phoenix that we're still on her case. Phoenix would then use the opportunity to flee and sink back deep under the radar. I would still find her, but it would be a waste of precious time and effort as our deadline was nearing. And, Arielle could sense we weren't completely on her side. Even a fool could tell Damien and I disapproved of Arielle trying to find her sister.
Phoenix ran and changed her name for a reason. She could've come back at any time but she didn't and she wouldn't just because her little sister was unsatisfied and ungrateful for the power she held. The entire affair would only end in Arielle's hopes being shattered, though it was necessary for her to move on focus on ruling. But she wouldn't be able to do much of that if she didn't step up and realize that she was Arielle Fortier. Not her sister. She was meant to rule.
Arielle would be one of the best Crown Fortier in fifty years. She needed to stop being an idiot and realize it.
But how could she when her father stood above her, so petulant and criticizing? Perhaps I should kill him and be done with. He wasn't doing much on the throne anyway.
Arielle veered us into an alley that was as wide open as the main street. People moved back and forth and the alley provided no cover. Indianapolis in general was much too open.
After two more turns, Arielle paused in front of the door to a five-story brick building. The windows on the first two floors were boarded up and a few on the top two were half smashed. Arielle twisted the doorknob and the door swung open with a high-pitched screech. Dust lifted and tickled the back of my throat, trying to make me cough. We looked into a dark hall. A cobweb hung in the corner. A single light in the roof was shattered.
The setting didn't fool me. There were numerous muddy footprints covering the ground, showing that a minimum of twenty people walked in and out daily, possibly more. The dust covering the wooden planks was visibly uneven, indicating that it was purposefully spread on a daily basis. A burnt cigarette sat in the corner, looking as if it was smoked a few hours ago. And, most importantly, not a single chip of the shattered light remained on the ground. Someone cleaned it off or found a broken light and placed it there on purpose.
I stepped into the hall, Arielle and Damien taking their time as they followed me down the hall. At the end was yet another door, a thicker one with a lock. I stepped aside and Damien pulled out his lockpicks. He struggled with the lock for six minutes until it finally clicked.
The door swung open to reveal a brightly lit lobby. The ceiling rose a few floors tall, a bright chandelier hanging from it. The center of the lobby was a large play area where young children were running around, laughing and crying. A seating area filled the right end of the lobby where Streeters of all ages milled about. On the left were two grand staircases. Tucked underneath the staircases were a wide mall-like entrance to a few shops, cafes, and restaurants. A woman sat behind a small desk by the stairs, smiling and chatting with another woman. People walked to and fro, ignoring our presence.
"A Streeter hideout," Damien whispered as he stared at the chandelier. "No one ever found more than rumors of these..."
He looked at Arielle. "You managed to find a Streeter hideout."
"I didn't know it was one," she responded. "Chance's brother-"
"-Trevor-"
"-figured out that she frequented this building, many times overnight, and realized that this is where she was living. But I didn't expect..."
Arielle trailed off.
"What do you think the stairs lead to?" Damien asked.
"I wonder what could possibly be up there in a place where people live," I replied, making sure there was enough poison in my voice to make my brother realize he was asking a stupid question. I swear, he becomes dumber by the day.
"I'm so sorry, oh big brother, for being an idiotic peasant compared to you. Please forgive me."
Arielle looked between the two of us. "What's up there?"
Why couldn't she have had at least a single working brain cell?
"A giant teddy bear," Damien replied.
He spent too much time around Raphaella these past few years.
I sighed. "Their living quarters, Arielle."
Arielle mouthed an 'Oh' and had the decency to blush before looking around.
"We should ask someone where we can find Tressa Richards," she said.
"Don't say it with her last name like that. You'll look too suspicious," Damien advised.
"I know, I have common sense," Arielle muttered as she approached a middle-aged woman.
Damien raised his eyebrow after her and looked at me, carrying a credulous expression.
"Hi! Do you know where I can find Tressa? She said she was going to be down here but I can't seem to find her."
"Tressa as in the auburn?" the woman asked. "I think I just saw her in the clothes store."
Arielle gave a quick thank you and walked to the store the woman pointed at. It was wide and premium with large mannequins featuring different pieces. Numerous racks of clothes dotted the area. Feeling the cloth, I could tell it was high quality. This looked just like one of the premium stores my mother was visiting at the moment, the kind of Streeter clothes that managed to attract assassins.
Streeter hideouts were supposed to be cheap to live in, though this one seemed high end. Were all of them like this? And how many more did I not know about? I needed to sort this out when I got back to Cressida.
Damien scanned the multiple Streeters milling about, wandering through the racks.
"There," he pointed. I followed his gaze to Phoenix's partner in crime. We followed Arielle between the racks, pausing once in a while to pretend to be inspecting a piece of clothing.
I glanced at her and looked her over. Tressa Richards was wearing a brown leather jacket which matched the quality of the store. Her jeans were long meaning she most likely wasn't planning on stepping out into the beating sun. Her boots were clean, indicating they weren't the same ones she used to rob banks.
The corner of a small red card peaked out from the pocket of her jacket. Looking around, I noticed the others also had various red cards hidden away. They were either the room keys or the hideout's payment method. Her fingernails were trimmed down to the quick and a pin hung in her hair. Her jacket weighed down on one side, indicating a hidden weapon. It wasn't heavy enough to be a gun, so possibly a knife.
She looked around the store and through the clothes with familiarity, but still too much curiosity. She moved in recently, maybe one to two months ago. However, she seemed comfortable in the premium setting, meaning she was used to being in places of money. But it went beyond just being banks. She either belonged to a wealthy Streeter family or she was used to infiltrating exclusive Streeter events to rob them. In any case, she knew what she was doing in places of money and power.
Her fingers were wrapped around a few green Streeter dollars. She didn't seem to be hiding any Assassin gold coins or another wallet anywhere, which meant that was all she had with her. However, her grip was too loose. Perhaps she knew no one would be able to steal it from her because she was a thief, but it was more than that. She wasn't possessive enough of the money. She must've pickpocketed it from someone since she didn't even care about it enough to indicate she planned out an entire heist for it.
Arielle stepped to her left and inspected the clothes on the rack Richards was flipping through. Damien walked around them and inspected another clothing rack on the other side of Richards. Richards glanced up and was about to move away when she looked up at him again. She recognized him.
Before she could do much else, Arielle spoke.
"Tressa Richards," Arielle whispered while still looking through the clothes. "We just want to talk."
She took a moment to compose herself before responding. "I think that's what you said yesterday before you tried to kill us."
Arielle looked her straight in the eyes. They hardened and she stood tall, lifting her chin as the mask of a heartless Queen and the deadliest assassin in the nation fell into place.
"If we were trying to kill you, you would be dead," Arielle said, the threat clear in her low, icy voice.
Richards' left hand, which was carrying the money, fiddled with the clothes on the shelf while her free hand slowly, and inconspicuously, drifted towards her jacket.
"I hope you know, a single knife won't do anything against us," I told her, my throat scraping in the process.
She paused.
"Don't try anything," Arielle warned. "You won't get past us."
"Is that so?" Tressa looked at Damien. "Did the nose heal already?"
"It did," Damien snapped. "The punch was a mere annoyance. Thanks for the concern."
She took a step towards him. "Maybe I should try to make it hurt this time."
"Tressa Richards, we just want to ask a few questions," Arielle told her.
"I won't be answering any."
"You know who we are," Damien said. "You know it wouldn't be very smart to fight us."
"I also know I don't have much of an option here."
"If you talk to us, we'll refund the same amount of money you lost in your botched heist last night."
"I can re-steal that amount of money just fine."
"If you don't cooperate, a fight breaks out," I spelled out for her. "And when fights break out, innocent people get hurt. Arielle in particular doesn't mind doing what it takes to win, even killing innocent people. Anyone and everyone here will be dead with the flick of her wrist."
There was a pause as Richards looked between the three of us and around the shop. Her eyes scanned the unassuming shoppers, hesitating at the elders and a little girl holding a doll as she trailed behind her mother.
Richards folded her arms across her chest. "What do you want?"
Arielle blinked. "Your fellow partner in crime, Phoenix Night. Tell me about her."
"She has red hair. Loves black jackets. Expert heist schemer."
"Something of use," Arielle clarified.
"What would be of use for you?"
"Where can I find her?"
"She has multiple living places across the nation and beyond."
"Where?"
"I don't know," Richards admitted. "She doesn't trust any of us enough to divulge that sort of information."
Arielle narrowed her eyes. "Fine. What about places she frequents?"
Richards thought for a moment before saying, "She plans to stay in Chicago for the next few days. There's a diner that she likes to go to whenever she's there."
Arielle nodded. "Good. Where?"
Richards muttered the name of the diner, took out a piece of paper, scribbled down an address, and handed it to her. Arielle skimmed the address and pocketed the paper.
Arielle took a step closer. "If we find out that you're lying-"
"You'll murder me and everyone I know. Got it," Richards finished.
"No," Arielle said, taking another step and lowering her voice. "I'll kill everyone in this hideout, children and elders alike, and then I will hunt down every hideout just like this one and purge every single Streeter out until they choose to beg on the streets than risk a healthy life. And you, I will keep you alive to watch as every single body falls in front of you for your mistake and then I'll let you live out the rest of your days knowing you started a massacre."
"If not," I said, stepping in. "We'll gladly fund this place once we take the Crown and you may split the money with sister hideouts."
Arielle looked at me and glared, not agreeing with my deal, but eventually sighed and turned back to Richards.
"We swear it on the power of the Crowns and the blood on our blades," Arielle muttered.
Richards nodded. "Good. I'll be expecting ten million every month."
"Ten million?" Arielle hissed.
"It's not easy to build a place like this, especially in the environment you've made us suffer through. Besides, I'm sure you can afford the price."
"Fine," Arielle conceded. "Ten million per month."
"Great," she said. "Now I'm sure you've got plenty of stuff to do in your floating block of gold in the sky."
Damien walked away and Arielle, after a moment, stepped back. The three of us journeyed out of the store and emptied out into the main hall.
"She'll probably tell them to clear this place out as soon as we leave," Arielle whispered.
"With 120 million Streeter dollars funding them every year?" Damien scoffed. "They'll take the risk and stay to eat up their money."
We walked through the messy, dark hall we entered from and stepped back into a shaded alley.
Arielle glared at me. "That was an awful deal."
"No," I explained. "If we destroyed all of the Streeter hideouts like you're so eager to do, they would have nothing to lose. Most would band up and revolt or they would stop working for us."
"And they have something to lose now?"
"The hope of a happy life."
It was a deluded hope. No matter who you are, rich or poor, life is never as happy as in your dreams.
We followed Arielle, who was always our road map, back through the alleys and out onto the main road. Streeters were milling about as usual, walking back and forth in the masses. Whenever a few cars passed by, the Streeters would have to part to let them pass. Inspecting the crowd out of habit, my eyes spotted two Streeters talking to each other under a shade, their hand movements rushed and tense. One of them had wide eyes and pointed down the street where we were headed. Did they recognize our mothers as the Queens? It was possible, but if so, they would be running the other way. Perhaps there was something else. I scanned the crowd for more clues.
"So, we're going back to Chicago?" Damien asked.
Arielle nodded. "Tressa said Phoenix would only be in Chicago for the next few days, so we have to get there quick. We can watch the diner and wait for her to arrive."
"And then what? Talking to her didn't do much last time."
"We won't talk to her," Arielle said. "We follow her home."
"We already know where she lives. Quite a dump, if you ask me. I have no intention of going back."
"But Phoenix is smart and she knows I'm stubborn," Arielle argued. "She would've abandoned the home we found and moved to a different one."
"But we already talked to her at her home before. What's the point trying again?" Damien asked.
Not finding anything in the crowd, I looked up, scanning the buildings as I kept my pace by Arielle's side.
"We don't talk to her. We follow her, watch her every move and try to find a weakness as we do with everyone else. And then, we use it to get her back," Arielle looked at Damien. "You know all of this already. Don't pretend to be oblivious."
Damien groaned. "I was hoping you wouldn't have a solid plan so that I could convince you not to attempt this idiocy."
"It's not idiocy," Arielle snapped. "You'll understand when we get her back. I'm not meant to rule."
"And how do you expect to leave home for days at a time when we could barely escape right now for a few hours?"
"I don't know," Arielle admitted. "That's your part to figure out."
"No thank you."
At last, I found a shadow leaning from the open window of a cement building. Focusing in, I realized I couldn't see his or her face because they were wearing a mask. They were looking back and forth between a pair of binoculars and a watch which was hard to see from the ground. I followed the line of sight from the binoculars and realized it was pointed a block down the street, in the direction of the building my mother was in. I looked back up at the masked shadow who put the binoculars away and simply sat, watching. And waiting.
I felt my stomach start to sink. Grabbing Arielle's arm, I muttered, "Pick up the pace."
Arielle looked at me in confusion as I hurried them through the crowd. "What's wrong?"
"Cement building to the right and back. Third floor."
I focused my gaze on the store my mother was in, watching its movements. I felt Arielle look over her shoulder, following my directions.
"Shit," she said, turning back around and walking quicker.
Damien shifted from Arielle's side to my other, both of them now serious as our training instincts took over. We pushed through the crowd, trying not to look suspicious. Arielle's hand drifted to her waist where her blades were hidden. Damien scanned the crowd. I focused my gaze on the store my mother was in, watching its movements for any signs of what was to come.
We were only a few buildings away when Damien tapped my hand nine times, code for nine o'clock. I passed the message along to Arielle and looked just ahead to the left. A girl wearing a thick black jacket and hood was hurrying in the opposite direction, keeping her head down and looking over her shoulder frequently.
A man followed her, hands in his pockets, blending in more with the crowd though still looking tense. He was definitely more experienced, though not enough. He scanned the crowd and his eyes met mine. All of us kept walking in our respective directions, though my gaze never wavered. I gave him my coldest stare and his eyes shifted between the three of us. He met my eyes again and then his eyes widened. He quickened his pace and whispered in the girl's ear.
"We've been recognized," Damien muttered.
"Run yet?" Arielle asked.
I nodded. "Run."
The three of us broke out into a sprint, hurtling past Streeters. Some stood still while others tried to veer out of the way. I watched as many as I could while we ran, but found no one else suspicious. We neared the building, only a few dozen more yards away though the thick crown was making it difficult. Arielle unsheathed her blades and it had the desired effect.
As we ran, Streeters gasped and shouted warnings to their brethren, pointing as they dove away. Our pace sped as the crowd cleared.
Through our jog, Damien pointed at another figure running away from the other side of the building. Arielle and I kept our pace, though Damien fell behind as he squinted at the figure. The man looked back as he seemed to be shoving a jacket on, though not fast enough.
"He's a Raven!" Damien shouted, and ran after the Raven at full speed.
I ignored him and watched the doors as I neared the store only ten yards away.
"Damien!" Arielle shouted and raised her arm to throw.
I ran on, only a few feet left to reach my destination, to check up on my mother and get them out of there.
"Damien, get out of the way!" Arielle shouted her hand still up.
Damien paused and dodged to the side, as I bounded up the steps. I reached my arm out to grab the door which was only inches away, but just as my fingers gripped the handle, a bang rang through the air as an explosion blasted me off my feet.
I was thrown back, sailing through the air, glass slicing my skin. I was weightless for a second before I crashed to the ground, rolling to the best of my ability to decrease the damage. I laid on the ground before blinking through the haze and pushing myself to my knees.
Dust filled the air in thick clouds and darkened the sky. Shouts filled the air as Streeters fled the scene. Cement chunks and glass laid all around us, though none of them were aflame. They wouldn't be. This wasn't a regular bomb. It was a shock explosion, meant to break the structure of the building.
Arielle struggled to her feet a few yards away. A hand closed around my arm and I looked up to find Damien helping me to my feet. I let him. He pressed a hand to my forehead and it drew away covered in blood. He didn't say anything, only looked up at the building.
Just as we watched, one wall of the second floor gave away and it crumpled to the side, crashing into the roof of the neighboring building. The screams grew louder as more dust arose, making the space around us barely visible. Finally, the building settled in its position, leaning against the next building. I felt Arielle's presence, though I didn't pay attention to her.
"Mom," I muttered.
That was all we needed to spring back into action. The three of us stumbled through the now gaping entrance of the building, blinking through the dust. There was barely anything visible in the store besides strewn clothes and rubble. Chunks of the wall stood gaping, lights hanging and broken. Two guards were thrown against the wall and a few shoppers were sprawled across the floor—some coughing, others unmoving.
I searched their faces looking for my mom or Gladys.
"They're not here," Arielle called.
"There's a stairwell," Damien pointed to the corner.
We shuffled through the debris, working our way to the stairwell. A window from high above provided some light as we stepped through the doorway. After taking a moment to adjust to the lighting, Arielle gasped.
"Mother!" she shouted and ran to a limp body at the foot of the stairs. Blood spilled down her forehead and covered her face. Her legs were pinned under a chunk of the ceiling. She must've fallen down the stairs when the explosion hit.
As Arielle tried desperately to find a pulse I looked up the stairs which her covered in fallen debris. If Gladys was making her way downstairs and my mother wasn't already in front of her, it meant she still had to be upstairs on the second floor.
Tears spilled down Arielle's face, but I left her alone with her mother. I needed to find mine.
I stepped onto the stairs, slowly making my way up as I balanced on the crumbling steps and the fallen ceiling, Damien right behind me. The dust-filled air scraped at the back of my throat, scratching and clawing, making it drier than normal. Breathing became painful as the toxic air pierced my neck and lungs. Coughing, I covered my mouth my shirt to block out the minuscule pieces of glass and drywall.
Finally, we reached the second-floor which was in worse shape than the first. An entire wall completely collapsed and the ceiling tilted precariously, broken in some parts as contents from the above floors spilled through the gap. Everything on the floor was still as if the smallest movement would make the entire building collapse. Perhaps it would. There wasn't enough light for me to estimate anything.
"Mom?" Damien called out, his voice wavering. It resounded through the floor, breaking the silence for just a moment. There was no answer.
He called again. "Mom, you there?"
There was a moment of silence until a scraping sound came from a corner near the fallen edge. Stepping between fallen chunks of the building, we ran towards the sound, unable to see more than a few feet ahead of us, coughing through the air. It was only until we were a few feet away that I realized the scraping was my mother pushing a brick against the ground.
Her legs were pinned under the fallen debris, but that wasn't the concerning part. My eyes drifted further up her body where a metal rod from the building frame poked out of the wall and pierced her chest.
We kneeled by her side as she watched us with unfocused eyes, barely gasping for air.
"We have to get her out," Damien muttered as he pushed at the cement chunk pinning her legs to no avail.
I looked her up and down, trying to push down the panic which seized my throat and find a way to get her out.
"Can't remove," I said, pointing at the rod as my voice came out in a raspy scrape that was barely decipherable.
"We have to!" Damien argued. "If we don't take the chance she's going to die anyway."
He closed his fist around the rod and strained as he tried to pull it away. I looked back up at my mother who was watching Damien, still gasping as she slowly lifted her hand, reaching for Damien. I looked into her eyes and I realized she knew there was nothing left to do.
"Xavier, help me!" Damien asked. When I didn't respond he repeated himself. I only pointed at our mother's outstretched hand. Damien took it.
"Mom, it's okay, we're going to get you out of here," he told her. But yet, tears started to spill from his eyes.
She shook her head gently.
"No, no," Damien muttered. "We will. Trust me, we will. We just need to get rid of this rod. Xavier-"
She shook her head again and, through gasps, with a shaky voice uttered the words, "You can't."
"No!" Damien shouted, shaking his head reverently, the tears cascading down his face. "We can. We can get you out of here. There's a way. There has to be a way."
Damien's words trailed off as he looked into her eyes, his resolve slowly breaking down. She let go of Damien's hand and pressed her's against my cheek. Panic seized up against my throat, squeezing and twisting, ridding me of the words I wanted to tell her, the assurances I wanted to give her one last time. But I couldn't them, the words trapped on my tongue, fighting to get free but losing as the dry air scraped against my throat. Only a single raspy breath came out.
"I know," she whispered. "Don't say it. I know."
I reached up to take her hand and realized it was wet with my tears. I don't know when they started to fall. Damien leaned his head against my shoulder, tears soaking into my shirt, and I threw an arm around his shoulders as I watched my mother gasp for her final breaths.
She offered one weak yet wide smile before she coughed up blood. It filled her mouth, making her shake. I gripped her wrist firmer feeling her waning pulse under my fingers. The blood frothed from her mouth, spilling to the ground, her eyes wide and red, body shaking until, finally, she fell still. Her pulse faded. I let her hand fall back to the ground.
I looked back up at her eyes which were staring into the abyss, the light sucked away. Placing a shaky hand over them, I let her eyes fall shut.
The air was sucked out of my lungs and the world spun. I let my head fall, leaning against Damien's as I closed my eyes and buried my face in his hair, feeling only his arms wrapped around me and my mother's presence lost forever.