The long darkness finally broke.
Jack opened his eyes. Something hummed at his side; cool air swirled over his blistered skin. Light made him flinch. Was it over?
He tried to raise his head and gave a cracking groan at the pain the movement caused. His entire body felt bruised and battered, burned and broiled. The ache originated in his head – not surprisingly.
The first name that came to mind sprung to his lips. “Hermes...” It came out in a croak, a barely-human sound. Sparks of pain ran up the back of his swollen throat.
The space was dark, but not totally; a soothing half-dark that reminded him of twilight. He was laying on something soft, with a silky cloth over him. The humming... something... eased his headache, if just a little.
“Jack?”
The small, trembling voice struck something in Jack’s chest. He sat up, nearly screamed in pain, and flopped back down. “Holly?” he rasped.
“I’m here.” She sounded so unlike herself. So frail. So... old.
Jack managed to turn his head without passing out. She lay in a chair near the bed, the seat’s back half-reclining. Her wrists were chained to the wooden arms.
“What...” Jack had to stop and let the knives against his throat stop sawing his skin. “What are you...”
“Oh, I’m dangerous now, too,” Holly said with a weak smile. “They think I’m batty.”
“They’re right.” Jack sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. The effort it took, just to get a couple words out...
“I know, but... they think I’m mad.” Holly shook her head slowly from side to side, eyes going from one manacle to the other. She continued as if to herself. “What they don’t realize... is that putting me in chains won’t help that.”
In vain Jack tried to suppress a shudder. Chains. Too familiar. Burning chains.
“What... what happened?” Jack whispered. He opened his eyes to see Holly’s gaze dart to him, the huge green irises shining in the semidarkness.
“Hermes,” she said. “Hermes... and the Agency and the Prophetic Board... they cursed you.”
Jack stilled. Cursed? By Hermes? No.
“When... when we were captured...” Holly’s words came slowly, and her eyebrows slanted down; speaking wasn’t coming easily to her. “At the temple... they put a mark on you. You’re going to have nightmares, Jack. Every night. They thought you were dangerous too.”
Jack remembered the soldiers’ ghosts. Pain raked its claws down his body, and he bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud.
“I... am... dangerous,” he gasped out, clasping the blankets between his fists. “They... they were right...”
“They were right about everything, Jack.” Holly sounded like she was in a trance. “About everything except taking our minds away. They’ll pay for it, won’t they?”
All Jack could do was nod weakly, spasms of pain shooting down his spine. He closed his eyes.
He heard scraping sounds, like something heavy being dragged over the floor. A moment later, small, slender fingers slid into his, holding on for dear life.
Jack swallowed the tears that pricked behind his eyelids and gripped Holly’s hand. Then the room swirled away as he slid into a dark, untroubled sleep.
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