Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 42: Stay With Me

Camille was motionless.

Isaac ran. He half-skidded across the snowy roof, dispatching the sunhound with a slice of his sword. He fell to his knees. Camille's eyes fluttered; her lips were chapped, and delicate veins laced the back of her eyelids. Isaac pressed a hand to her stomach, and molten gold pooled between his fingers.

A lump rose in his throat.

He'd seen enough injuries in battle to know this was bad.

Very, very bad.

Camille's breathing was laboured. "Isaac..."

"This is my fault." Isaac's voice broke. "It's all my fault."

Camille shook her head. "Not. Your. Fault." She squeezed his hand, tracing a finger along his scar. "Understand."

Isaac let out a choked sob. She'd worked it out. Of course she had; this was Camille. She saw through everything. "Breathe, Cami. Stay with me."

Camille's brown eyes were warm. "I... Forgive..."

Her eyes closed.

A wordless howl ripped from his chest. Isaac gathered Camille into his arms, smoothing down her hair. She felt so small. Had she always been this small? He could see flickers of her at ten-years-old, all knobbed knees and pink hair ribbons.

Camille had once showed him a painting in the East Wing, a small picture entitled The Sailor Bids Farewell to His Love. "But what makes it interesting," she'd said, tapping the frame, "is the underpainting. There's a whole painting beneath it. A boat scene with a different woman that the artist painted over."

They were all like that, Isaac thought. Layers upon layers upon layers.

And he could feel all of Camille slipping away.

A sunhound lunged. Isaac snarled, slicing through it with his sword. Another hound came. Then another. He dispatched all of them, half-kneeling on the ground. He was vaguely aware of movement around him — swords clashing, people shouting — but none of it mattered.

Camille.

He had to get Camille to a healer.

"Come on." A hand landed on his shoulder. "We need to go."

Grayson stood over him, sweat matting his blond hair. His tattoo stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Isaac clutched Camille closer to his chest.

"I'm not leaving her," Isaac said.

The idea of it was impossible. As foreign as putting his shoes on backwards.

Grayson's blue eyes were hard. "We can't bring her." His fingers tightened. "Not if we're scaling the building. Come on."

His chest tightened. "No."

"Look," Grayson said, "I'm not doing this for fun. Your traitorous arse can die up here for all I care. But for some reason, Penny seems to think you're worth saving." He glanced further down the roof. "Get up. Now."

Isaac stroked Camille's hair. Golden blood flaked off his fingers, dusting her cheeks.

Grayson sighed. "Don't make me throw you off this tower, Webb."

Isaac stiffened. Like hell was he leaving Camille. He opened his mouth to tell Grayson exactly that — bugger off — when a noise caught his attention. A roar split the sky, followed by the great beating of wings. A shiver went down his spine.

There was only one creature that made that sort of noise.

Grayson scanned the skies. "What is that?"