wound she’d received in her shoulder, and she stopped by and said hello on the first day after Cross woke up. She moved awkwardly with a cast on her arm, but Cross joked that she managed to make it look stylish. Danica laughed.
Even banged up and bruised, Danica’s thick red hair shone in the harsh sunlight that crept in through the arched windows in the medical wing, and her skin looked perfect.
Cross still imagined what it would be like to be with her, sometimes…to be with anyone , really, to have some sort of meaningful and lasting romantic relationship, and more often than not he imagined that relationship would be with Danica.
Cross knew that fantasy wasn’t healthy for a number of reasons. For starters, she was a lesbian. Second, she still nursed a broken heart from when her last lover, Lara Cole, had left her nearly two years before. Third, developing any sort of intimate relationships inside the ranks of the team was bound to end in trouble. Fourth, she sometimes reminded him of Ilfesa Warfield, a black marketer and smuggler whom he’d had an incurable and lustful crush on for almost four years, but who he was too afraid to approach because, in his mind, there was no way it would end well.
He wasn’t meant for relationships. He hadn’t even been a good brother, and he couldn’t imagine he’d be any better as a lover, or, heaven forbid, a husband.
“ How are they treating you?” she asked. Her voice was coarse, and sounded huskier than normal.
“ Decent enough, I suppose. You look good.”
“ Clean exit,” she said. “My spirit should have it healed up in the next day or so.”
“ I was referring to the hospital gown,” Cross smiled. “It’s fetching.”
Black smiled.
God, she’s beautiful.
“ So what happened to you, exactly?” Black asked him after a moment.
A soldier moaned a few beds away. Cross had heard him before – necrotic worms had worked into his flesh, and even though Rikeman had dug them all out after a painful surgery, the young man’s mind had been infected with nightmares that he would never escape from. When he slept, he was wracked with terrifying dreams, and when he was awake he thought that everyone he looked at was bleeding from their eyes.
“ I fell into that…sludge,” Cross said.
“ Any idea what that stuff was?”
“ I was sort of hoping that cylinder would tell us.”
“ Tell them ,” Black corrected. “Pike and Laros and whoever else is in charge. You’re not Southern Claw any more, Eric.”
“ Right,” he nodded. He could’ve been, but he’d made a choice. They all had.
“ Nurse!” a soldier called out from a few beds away. His eyes were solid black, the result of some arcane-chemical weapon used on him on the front lines. “Nurse, please!” Rikeman and a pair of nurses appeared, though there was truthfully little they could do without removing the young man’s eyes. Ultimately, that was probably what had to happen.
The Ebon Cities war labs had gotten more creative ever since they’d decided to pull out all of the stops and launch a brutal campaign against Thornn.
“ So who was that woman in the Spire?” Cross asked Black.
“ What?” she said, clearly surprised.
“ Come on, Danica. You know her."
Black looked him straight in the eye. She could make her gaze go as cold as ice, and she could stare almost anyone down.
She can still stare me down , Cross thought. I might feel a bit more like a leader if she didn't have such an easy time doing that to me.
“ The staring thing tells me I'm right,” he said with a smile. “But the silent treatment usually means that you want to kill something…so hopefully I'm wrong about that one.”
Danica laughed.
“ You know me too well,” she said quietly. She didn't seem to like admitting that.
Rikeman’s staff had sedated the young man with the black eyes. Nearby, another soldier moaned that his leg hurt. No one had the heart to tell him that both of his legs were gone.
“
Even banged up and bruised, Danica’s thick red hair shone in the harsh sunlight that crept in through the arched windows in the medical wing, and her skin looked perfect.
Cross still imagined what it would be like to be with her, sometimes…to be with anyone , really, to have some sort of meaningful and lasting romantic relationship, and more often than not he imagined that relationship would be with Danica.
Cross knew that fantasy wasn’t healthy for a number of reasons. For starters, she was a lesbian. Second, she still nursed a broken heart from when her last lover, Lara Cole, had left her nearly two years before. Third, developing any sort of intimate relationships inside the ranks of the team was bound to end in trouble. Fourth, she sometimes reminded him of Ilfesa Warfield, a black marketer and smuggler whom he’d had an incurable and lustful crush on for almost four years, but who he was too afraid to approach because, in his mind, there was no way it would end well.
He wasn’t meant for relationships. He hadn’t even been a good brother, and he couldn’t imagine he’d be any better as a lover, or, heaven forbid, a husband.
“ How are they treating you?” she asked. Her voice was coarse, and sounded huskier than normal.
“ Decent enough, I suppose. You look good.”
“ Clean exit,” she said. “My spirit should have it healed up in the next day or so.”
“ I was referring to the hospital gown,” Cross smiled. “It’s fetching.”
Black smiled.
God, she’s beautiful.
“ So what happened to you, exactly?” Black asked him after a moment.
A soldier moaned a few beds away. Cross had heard him before – necrotic worms had worked into his flesh, and even though Rikeman had dug them all out after a painful surgery, the young man’s mind had been infected with nightmares that he would never escape from. When he slept, he was wracked with terrifying dreams, and when he was awake he thought that everyone he looked at was bleeding from their eyes.
“ I fell into that…sludge,” Cross said.
“ Any idea what that stuff was?”
“ I was sort of hoping that cylinder would tell us.”
“ Tell them ,” Black corrected. “Pike and Laros and whoever else is in charge. You’re not Southern Claw any more, Eric.”
“ Right,” he nodded. He could’ve been, but he’d made a choice. They all had.
“ Nurse!” a soldier called out from a few beds away. His eyes were solid black, the result of some arcane-chemical weapon used on him on the front lines. “Nurse, please!” Rikeman and a pair of nurses appeared, though there was truthfully little they could do without removing the young man’s eyes. Ultimately, that was probably what had to happen.
The Ebon Cities war labs had gotten more creative ever since they’d decided to pull out all of the stops and launch a brutal campaign against Thornn.
“ So who was that woman in the Spire?” Cross asked Black.
“ What?” she said, clearly surprised.
“ Come on, Danica. You know her."
Black looked him straight in the eye. She could make her gaze go as cold as ice, and she could stare almost anyone down.
She can still stare me down , Cross thought. I might feel a bit more like a leader if she didn't have such an easy time doing that to me.
“ The staring thing tells me I'm right,” he said with a smile. “But the silent treatment usually means that you want to kill something…so hopefully I'm wrong about that one.”
Danica laughed.
“ You know me too well,” she said quietly. She didn't seem to like admitting that.
Rikeman’s staff had sedated the young man with the black eyes. Nearby, another soldier moaned that his leg hurt. No one had the heart to tell him that both of his legs were gone.
“
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