Chapter 18

Zagan

MY BLOOD BOILED PAST THE point of fuming. I was ready to maul, burn, and fucking destroy the world so that Iyla could stand atop the ashes of everyone who tried to keep her caged—her mother being at the bottom of that pile where she belonged.

Do you want to get fat?

Dreams are for sleeping. This is real life.

The world was full of pricks like Mrs. Winters who made life suck for everyone else. People like her were why demons like me existed—to show the chained and discarded that they were more than what kept them bound.

There was nothing wrong with Iyla’s curves. Humans were beautiful, no matter their shape, size, or color. It was why demons coveted humans so much. Just existing and having a soul that shined like a beacon in the dark made them exquisite. Shallow assholes like Iyla’s mom made people cower from themselves, shaming them for what made them beautiful.

And to tell Iyla that she shouldn’t dream? Shouldn’t strive for something wonderful that she wanted?

Fucking bullshit.

Iyla was allowed to have her own passions, ones that didn’t include her mother’s wishes. And that clearly had to do with piano. Mrs. Winters had connected the instrument to Iyla’s talk about dreams, and even now, I remembered the way Iyla’s entire body froze when she saw my piano. It was like it had called out to her on some deep level, but she’d forced herself to ignore that urge.

She’d forced herself to walk away from her dream.

The memory of those words leaving that woman’s mouth made my human guise threaten to crumble all over again. Iyla couldn’t even look at me after that. She’d kept her eyes down, slowly eating her shit salad while her mother did the same. The only reason I didn’t storm to that table and rip that woman apart, casting her into the deepest, foulest pits of Hell, was because I knew she was important to Iyla.

For some fucking reason.

I lingered like vapor in the shadows of Iyla’s apartment, waiting for her to appear after leaving the restaurant. The lock unlatching sounded in the quiet room. I watched Iyla slowly walk inside alone and trudge through the dark. She didn’t make a move to turn on any lights. She found the first surface she could sit on—the kitchen island chair—and sank onto it like all the energy had been zapped right from her body. Her disappointment and hurt permeated the air, and I felt an overwhelming need to reach out to her and find some way to make this better.

This night was supposed to celebrate her hard-earned success, but it couldn’t have been further from that.

I stepped out of the shadow and quietly crossed the room to her side. She didn’t lift her head from the countertop, even as her muffled voice said, “I know you’re there, Zagan.”

The fact that she knew that made me smile a little, but the grin fell away just as quickly. “Tonight didn’t go as planned, huh?”

She gave a humorless laugh and lifted her head to prop it on her fist. “That’s an understatement.”

With a snap of my fingers, the kitchen light came on. Iyla blinked a couple times with the sudden light. Her eyes were glassy and red like she wanted to cry, but no tears came. Something told me she was a professional at keeping her tears at bay.

Which only reignited my temper.

“Your mom is a bitch,” I stated flatly.

I knew humans were protective of their kin and got riled up when someone talked poorly about them, but I didn’t give a shit. Carrying someone for nine months didn’t make someone a mom. That was a title that got earned by how you raised, loved, and supported your kid. I didn’t see any of those qualities in Valerie Winters, so even though that was Iyla’s “mom,” she was undeserving of the name. She was undeserving of Iyla . And I wouldn’t show the woman an ounce of fucking civility.

Iyla didn’t argue with my assessment, which only reaffirmed my stance. She stared at the countertop like even though she was here , her mind was still back there in the restaurant, being shit on by the one person who should always love her.

I leaned across the island until my face was right in hers. She looked up at me then, and I offered her a comforting smile. “It’s over, Sparrow. She’s gone. So come back to me. We need to talk about what you want to do.”

“What I want to do?” she repeated.

I nodded. “To celebrate. This night was supposed to celebrate your achievement, remember? But that clearly didn’t happen. So we’re having a re-do. If it were up to you, what would you like to do to celebrate?”

Her eyes searched mine, and I could see the wheels in her head turning. Because, of course , she hadn’t already thought about what she’d like. She had to think about it to figure it out.

Finally, she whispered, “Cake.”

I ran my finger thoughtfully over one of my lip rings as I took that information in. “Cake?”

She nodded. “Cake. I’d like to eat some cake with Gemma and Nahla.” She paused, then added, “And you.”

It was so simple. Cake with those closest to her. And somehow, I’d managed to get myself on that short list. Fuck, if that didn’t do something to me …

“Okay,” I said. “Why don’t you text Nahla? See if she can hang out or something tonight. Tomorrow, you and I will go see Gemma.”

Finally, my sparrow smiled—a beautiful, glowing grin that made this mostly dark apartment feel as bright as a full moon. “Sounds good.”

I stood to my full height again, ready to leave so she could have a girls night, when something else occurred to me. I placed my hands back on the counter. “By the way …”

She looked up from her phone.

I leaned in until our noses touched. “You eat all the goddamn cake you want.”

She laughed, trying to avert her gaze. “Right. Shrimp linguini, too?”

I saw it the moment her mom’s jab re-entered her mind, and I refused to let that ruin Iyla’s night anymore. I crooked my finger under Iyla’s chin to keep her locked on me. “You’re beautiful, Iyla.” I tilted her head to brush my lips over hers. It was a soft sweep of our lips—softer than I usually did. But it felt right. I pulled back only enough to repeat, “Beautiful.”

Her hazy gaze went from my mouth to my eyes. “I’m beautiful,” she whispered.

I grinned. “Damn right you are.”

I STOOD IN FRONT OF Iyla’s apartment door and shot her a text to warn her I was about to pop in. She didn’t like me lurking in the shadows unannounced, so I figured as long as she had a heads-up, it was cool.

With that text sent, I moved in the darkness, passing through walls and stepping into Iyla’s place. I found her in her bedroom, pulling on a maroon sweater to go with her leggings. Her long hair fell down her back, and she pinned part of it with a black clip.

I appeared then, leaning against her bedroom door frame. She nearly jumped right out of her boots when she spotted me. I laughed at her startled expression before I could stop it, even as she clutched her chest and tried to calm down.

“You jerk!” she shrieked, smacking my arm. “You scared me!”

“So I saw,” I said. I schooled the mirth from my voice. “You ready to go?”

With a quick nod, she grabbed her purse. The two of us made our way downstairs and to her car.

“How was your night with Nahla?” I asked.

“Amazing,” she answered, pulling out of her parking space. “We relaxed and watched a movie she’d been dying to see.”

I watched the passing trees as we drove to Bloomings. “The face masks were cool.”

“They actually were. I—” She stopped, and I looked sideways just in time to see her staring at me with suspicious eyes. “How did you know we were doing face masks?”

The corner of my mouth tipped up, despite myself. “I just wanted to make sure you were having a good time after the shit show you’d had to endure.”

Her narrowed gaze bounced from the road to me, and suddenly, her cheeks turned red. “You don’t do that often, do you? Like, you don’t watch me while I … shower or anything, right?”

No, but that was a great idea. My hardening dick agreed.

“I don’t do that,” I answered. Yet .

She finished telling me about her night with Nahla, and she asked me about how things went in New York. We had a concert up there, some shows to do interviews for, music to record, and I helped with the dance class. It was a busy week, and I loved most of it.

“It all went well,” I finished after walking her though the chaotic schedule.

“Did you finally come around to liking your new song?” she asked.

I lolled my head against the headrest to look over at her. She’d been honest with me about multiple tough subjects, and if we were friends, that had to go both ways. So for the first time in my long life, I opened up a bit.

“No. I still hate it.” I swallowed hard. “The beat feels too repetitive. The words are meaningless dogshit. I don’t feel anything when I hear or sing it. But the guys said it was good enough.”

“But you don’t want to be just ‘good enough,’ I take it?”

“Would you?” I looked at her fingers gripping the steering wheel and decided to push a little on my hunch. “Would you want to play the piano ‘good enough?’”

Her lips parted slightly, and she briefly looked at me. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. She was quiet, and I figured she wasn’t going to answer since it had to do with a very obvious sore subject. So I was surprised when she whispered, “No. No, I wouldn’t.”

I nodded, satisfied with both her answer and the confirmation that answer gave me about what her goal was in life. “Exactly.” I looked out the front windshield as we pulled into Bloomings. “I want my music to be more .”

“I think you can do it,” Iyla declared as she parked. “You’ll write something that will make you fall in love with music again. I know you will. You just need the right motivation or inspiration.”

I hoped she was right, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.

We got out and made our way inside. I sent Iyla ahead of me to Gemma’s room while I approached the nurses station. A couple nurses, all of whom I recognized from my previous visits but couldn’t put names to, smiled at me as I approached.

“Hello, ladies,” I greeted, turning on the charm and leaning on the counter. “Did my delivery arrive and get set up in the sunroom?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the darker girls answered, batting her full lashes at me.

“Perfect,” I said. “I’m gonna take Iyla and Gemma in first. All the other residents and staff can go in after we leave.”

“You’re so kind, Zagan!”

“Thank you so much!”

“I can’t believe how generous you are!”

I let the compliments roll off my plastered on facade. My actions weren’t for them. They were all for Iyla. But whatever they needed to believe to make this easier was fine with me.

I found Iyla and Gemma sitting on the edge of Gemma’s bed. Iyla had both arms wrapped around her shoulders with her cheek pressed to the top of Gemma’s head as they both looked at a drawing Gemma had been working on.

“This is my dragon,” Gemma explained to her sister, pointing at the paper. Her hand moved across the page. “And this one is Zagan’s. I still need to know your dragon so I can draw it with ours.”

Iyla kissed the top of Gemma’s head. “I guess I’ll have to start thinking about my dream dragon then. Yours will still be the coolest, though. Rainbow scales and butterfly wings? Heck yes!”

Gemma giggled.

I cleared my throat, and the sisters looked up at me. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a little something for you.”

Iyla raised her brow at me in silent question, but she didn’t argue. She helped Gemma get into her wheelchair since she was feeling weak today—a fact that had Iyla noticeably stiffer—and I led them down the halls to the closed doors of the sunroom.

I gripped the door handle, but I didn’t open it yet. I met Iyla’s curious stare and asked, “Remember what you said you wanted last night?”

She hesitated then dipped her head in a nod.

I opened the door wide for Iyla so she could push an equally bewildered and excited Gemma through. They both gasped when they saw the sunroom, and I also took a second to survey everything. With a nod, I decided I was satisfied with the arrangement.

I’d made two phone calls after leaving Iyla’s place last night. One to here, confirming that it was okay to do this and another to a local bakery. Now, I got to see the results of those phone calls.

Ten tables were arranged in the room, and every inch of those tables were occupied with cake in every color of icing and fondant possible. Name cards stood next to each, explaining the flavor of cake, frosting, and filling combination. There were forty-three cakes in total, and it had the room smelling like sugar and spices.

“Holy moly,” Gemma squeaked. “Look at all this delicious cake!”

Iyla’s wide eyes swept over the dozens of deserts before finding my gaze. “Why—”

“You said you wanted cake.” I gestured to the tables. “I wanted to make sure you had every option possible.”

Iyla stared at me. Unblinking. Unmoving. I didn’t even think she was breathing. Gemma excitedly read off the flavor cards on the table closest to us, but Iyla seemed none the wiser. Her big brown eyes didn’t leave mine, and I found myself sinking deeper into those dark depths, watching appreciation and awe flood them. But more than that, a brimming happiness crashed through her gaze like a tidal wave overtaking every other emotion. My own chest got tighter. Seeing her joy was like feeling sunshine for the first time.

She felt like sunshine in my frozen, dark world.

Gemma reached up to tug on Iyla’s shirt. “Let’s have some!”

Iyla finally looked down at her sister with a hard swallow, the trance between us broken. “Right. Okay. Let’s see what all the options are.”

Iyla pushed Gemma around the room to see all the different treats. They both oohed and aahed over every single one we passed, and I worried that we’d be here all day while they tried to decide which one to have.

Iyla beamed as she read off another flavor card.

You know, staying here all day might not be so bad.

“There’s plenty,” I said, gesturing around us. “You aren’t limited to one kind. You can try as many as you’d like and eat as much as you’d like. Both of you.”

“This is the greatest day of my life,” Gemma declared.

She immediately requested slices of three different cakes. I cut them for her, ensuring they were small enough so that she didn’t fill up on one flavor before getting to eat the other two. With my back to the girls, I pricked my finger and let a drop fall onto the cake. I watched the black blood disappear into the spongy food. I handed her the plate and fork then turned my attention to the eldest Winters.

“Iyla?” I probed softly, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted.

“Can I try the spice cake with cream cheese frosting, please?”

I grinned. “You can have whatever you want, Sparrow.”

I went to that table to cut some cake. A hand suddenly gripped the shirt at my lower back, and I looked down as Iyla held onto me and leaned in close to my side. Her shining eyes held mine as she whispered, “Thank you for doing this. It … It means so much to me.”

Nothing could keep the smile off my face. Not when she looked at me like I made the world a better place. Me—a demon . “You don’t have to thank me. You earned this, remember?”

She let out a small laugh and looked around the room with a shake of her head. “I don’t think I deserve this . It was just midterms.”

“Midterms for classes you hate,” I reminded her, gaining her attention again. “For a degree you don’t want. For a woman who doesn’t treat you right. So yeah, you don’t deserve this . You deserve so much more.”

She swallowed hard, and, again, that warmth she kept directing at me swelled to life in her eyes. “Don’t say things like that. Otherwise, I’ll start to believe you.”

I leaned down so we were nose to nose. I was so fucking tempted to kiss her but opted not to because of our young audience. “Good. I’m counting on it.”

I handed her the plate with the cake she’d requested. After making a plate for myself, the three of us made our way back to Gemma’s room. I gave the ladies at the nurses station the greenlight to let the staff and other patients get what they wanted of the cake, too.

Our little trio made ourselves at home at the table by the window in Gemma’s room. Iyla and I sat across from each other with Gemma between us, facing the window. We dug into our cake, and the girls nearly fell out of their seats from how much they loved it. I learned they’d not had cake in years since their mom didn’t allow it.

Shocker.

We worked on a one-thousand piece puzzle of a—of course—dragon. I was starting to notice a theme with the little girl.

Nurses and patients popped in every so often to sing me praise for bringing the cake for everyone. I was used to constant attention and random people coming up to chat or request photos. It came with being the lead singer in a popular band, so it was always easy for me to smile and go along with the interactions. Anytime. Anywhere.

But for some reason, both last night at dinner and now, I wanted them to leave me alone. I wanted to hold onto this moment where I sat in this little room with Iyla and her sister. I wanted to sit uninterrupted, watching the way Iyla savored her cake, seeing the way she lit up in pure delight while talking to her sister, and laughing at how she wiggled in her chair when she found a matching puzzle piece. I wanted this moment to stay here for just the three of us.

Which was exactly why I let people continue to barge in.

What the Hell was wrong with me—getting swept up in a human to the point of doing outlandish things just to see her happy …

I mean, we were friends , something I was still new to. Maybe these feelings—also something I was new to—was just part of being a friend to someone. It was no wonder that it freaked me out a little.

“So how have you been this week?” Iyla asked, casting a nervous look at Gemma while she sorted through more pieces.

Gemma shrugged. “It’s been weird.”

Iyla went ramrod straight and stared at her sister. “Weird? Weird how?”

Gemma didn’t seem to notice her sister’s alarmed reaction, too focused on shoving more cake onto her fork. “There are days where I don’t feel tired at all and want to run around and play. I don’t stay cold those days, and I don’t get sick. I even heard Dr. Seward telling Mom my tests come back normal on those days. No extra bad cells or something. I don’t know.”

Iyla’s wide eyes found mine, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

My blood is working.

We just had to keep up the weekly dosage, and soon, Gemma should start improving greatly until she really was better.

“That’s good to hear,” I said to Gemma, handing her a puzzle piece I found in my pile that matched what she was working on.

She smiled conspiratorially at me. “It started when you came, Zagan. Maybe you’re the cure to my sickness.”

Iyla choked on her water, but I just laughed at the very spot-on statement. “Maybe so. I’ll keep coming around then.”

“Yay!” Gemma cheered.

We finished our cake, and none of us left even a crumb on our plates. The puzzle soon followed, detailing a dragon soaring over a castle.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Gemma asked, beaming down at the completed puzzle.

Iyla smiled at her younger sister, her eyes never even glancing at the puzzle. “It is.”

Gemma looked at me. “Thank you for the cake.”

I ruffled her thin, dull hair. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

“If I get to leave one day, can I go see you in concert?”

“Is that even a question? You better come see me.” I gently poked her in the side, which earned me a giggle. “I’ll even get you VIP passes.”

Iyla cleared her throat and stared at me with clenched teeth and a quick shake of her head.

I gave her a disbelieving eye roll and whispered, “Not that kind of VIP pass. Obviously .” What did she take me for? I was a demon , not a child predator. I turned back to Gemma. “I’ll make sure you get to see backstage and meet the whole band.”

She clapped, and her glee seemed infectious for Iyla.

The excitement of the past hour and a half seemed to catch up to Gemma. She yawned and her eyes grew heavy. Iyla helped her into her bed, and she sat next to her until the younger girl fell asleep. Even at my place from across the bed, leaning against the wall, I could see the tears lining Iyla’s eyes as she stared at her sleeping sister.

She swallowed, stood to place a kiss on her forehead, and whispered, “I promise I’ll make you better.”

The weight Iyla carried on her shoulders was huge, and it wasn’t fair to her. The burden of trying to impress and obey her mother. The burden she’d taken on to save her dying sister. Those weren’t weights she should have to carry, yet she shouldered them with her head held high.

I didn’t know whether I was awed by it, pissed off by it, or pitied her for it. Probably all three.

We said our goodbyes to the nurses and staff, and I got a few more thanks on our way out, including one from Nurse Patrice.

“The cake was delicious,” Patrice said as she bumped into us as we were leaving. I didn’t miss the strain in her voice, like praising me caused her actual pain. “Thank you for bringing it.”

“It was my pleasure, Patrice.” I grinned and shot her a wink just to ruffle her wrinkly feathers.

She huffed and left in a hurry after that.

Iyla laughed and pressed in close to my side to whisper, “I can’t believe Patrice was nice to you.”

I grabbed the front door and held it open for Iyla to go first. “I know. Maybe she got laid and—”

“Iyla?”

Iyla and I stopped in our tracks. We looked out into the parking lot at the same time, and dread immediately washed away all the warmth from before.

Things were about to go very, very wrong.