Prologue: part 2

Kain waited outside the door until the muffled sobs faded entirely. When he felt Marie slip into sleep, it was simple to nudge her mind that much deeper, so she couldn’t dream this time. He disliked interfering like that, but she needed the rest. Both women did, but if Nat felt him tickle her own mind, she’d be far less forgiving. Stealth was so much easier in those more naive, and Nat was far too self-aware to be influenced so easily.

He released the breath he’d been holding in a long, quiet sigh. It’d been almost a year since Jax’s death. Every time he thought Marie might finally be free of the nightmare – weeks or months without an episode… One struck out of the blue.

He continued down the hallway, hands clasped behind his back, expression heavy. He paused by rote at every door he came to–every door that didn’t lead to one of the too many empty rooms–letting his energy wash over the sleepers beyond. It was the barest of touches, enough to keep an eye on the other members of the nest, but not enough to disturb anyone who might feel his touch. It didn’t seem that anyone else had heard Marie. They all slept soundly.

When he had finished his circuit and was standing once more in front of his own bedroom door, he scrubbed a hand over his face. This was not how he imagined spending his nights, pacing dim hallways. Worrying and wondering…

It was hard to believe it was how he’d spent nearly a year already. Time was such an odd beast. Flickering by in heartbeats too fast to count, yet still rolling on slow and heavy as a stone at the bottom of a stream. It wasn’t often that he felt the full weight of it, bearing down on his thoughts and shoulders.

Tonight, he felt every second of his many years.

He stared back down the other hallway. Even with his keen eyesight, he could hardly make out the long length of wall through the shadows. His gaze drifted from Marie and Nat’s room to the opposite side of the hallway. Even without seeing it, he knew the door to Nica’s room was closed.

He could picture perfectly the crimson of the curtain she left hanging in the always-open doorway, could still see her smile as the gold threads caught the candlelight from within. She had never wanted to close her door to their nestmates. She had wanted them to always come to her when there was trouble, to be there for them.

She’d told him stories of growing up in her family’s nest, a tight-knit community of serpent cousins, living and dancing together in a tradition long since fallen out of popularity. The pressure to modernize, to conform and hide the differences that had led to so many brutal shapeshifter wars…well, a nest like that was rare to say the least. In the years they’d known each other, Kain had watched Nica stand firm in her roots, sheltering and protecting anyone who came to her, regardless of race, creed, or second form. It had been all too easy to introduce her to the right people, nudge her into making her informal nest into the reality that would become Asylum.

When he’d brought Dev and Nica together, no one would have guessed a chimera nest would be so successful. Dev had only agreed because it offered her the chance at strong wards and a good cover. But Kain had the seen the vision of what it could be, what Nica could be, if given half the chance…

But he had not foreseen this. He had not anticipated having to take up the mantle that Nica had worn so easily. Or perhaps, not so easily as it had seemed.

Dev was just the money. She ran the club the nest was housed in, and her business sense kept the doors open, but without Nica… If Dev was the head, then Nica was the heart. Nica had been the one who would pace the hallways at night, singing softly to herself, listening for the telltale cries of nightmares, chasing away the darkness for those who could not manage it alone.

He sighed and turned away. He left his own door open behind him in case any of those shadows woke someone tonight.

Kain didn’t resent Nica leaving. Not really. He’d understood the look in her eye when she’d knelt at Jax’s pyre, whispering soft apologies after she’d thought everyone had gone. His death on her watch was a failure too large to endure in her eyes.

No, he understood why she’d needed to leave her ghosts behind in order to heal.

What he didn’t understand was why she was letting them keep her away for so long.

No matter what she may be thinking, they did need her. They still danced and laughed, but it was muted now. Dancers always came and went within the nest, but the finality of Jax’s loss had stolen much of their communal spirit. And Nica’s flight was eating away at what was left of it. There was only so much Kain could do to reassure them – he could stand in, take up Nica’s role in the nest, but he could not be her.

Nor did he want to. He had his own role in the nest to fill and performing both was exhausting. Especially when his efforts to soothe the nest simply underscored her absence, reminded them further of how wrong everything still was.

When he slipped into bed, his own dreams were harried, full of flames dancing on a scorched earth while a crying hawk flew overhead.

Previous: Prologue 1                                                                                                                                                 Next: Prologue 3

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3 thoughts on “Prologue: part 2

  1. I love this intro of Kain. He is so sweet here, checking on everyone, showing off his many gifts by ‘helping’ Marie but I also like how we get a glimpse into his mind…see his worries since Nica left. Even though this scene has someone new, it connects beautifully to the first part. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Pingback: Prologue: part 1 | In Search of Asylum
  3. Pingback: Prologue: part 3 | In Search of Asylum

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