Page 60 of The Mist of Stars
“Me, neither. That was so dumb of us.” Sighing, I pull out a chair from the table in the dining room and drag it over to where I can sit in front of the bathroom.
Henry is lying on the tiled floor in front of the shower, and his eyes are still closed.
“How long will he be out?”
“Probably a few more minutes.”
“Can you knock him out again?”
“Well, yeah, but why would I do that?”
I turn to see her blowing out the candles. Little wisps of smoke fill the air as she does.
“After we’re done interrogating him, we can knock him out again then drag him back into the hallway,” I say.
“Good idea.” Aislin makes her way over to the table to grab a chair. “We’ll have to make sure we time it right again.”
I nod then tap my finger against my bottom lip. “I have a feeling he’s going to be a pain in the butt.”
“Oh, for sure.” She puts the chair beside mine then takes a seat. She crosses her legs, rests an elbow on her knee, then props her chin onto her fist. “Hopefully, he won’t stay passed out for too long.”
A frown tugs at my lips. “Wait—you just said only a few minutes. You don’t really know how long he’ll remain unconscious, do you?”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
I want to be a good friend—I do—but while I love Aislin to death, she really can be kind of spacey sometimes.
I push to my feet and head over to the kitchen.
“What’re you doing?” she inquires as I open a cupboard.
I take out a glass. “I’m going to splash some water on his face.”
“I’m not sure that’ll work.”
“Well, I’m going to try.” I fill up the glass then walk over to the bathroom doorway. Then I dip my fingers in it and splash a bit of water on his face. When that does nothing, I dump the entire thing on him.
That does the trick.
His eyes dart open as he bolts upright, gasping. Water trickles down his face as he frantically peers around the bathroom.
“Where am I?” he sputters, wiping the water off his face.
I set the glass on the floor, cross my arms, and lean against the doorframe. “Cut the shit, Henry. We know you’re under possession.”
“I …” He scoots backward across the tile until his back hits the shower door. “How did I get here?”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, stop pretending.”
“I …” Tears fall from his eyes. “Help me. I don’t know how I got here. One minute, I was at the academy, and then I was …” He shakes his head and starts sobbing.
Aislin gets to her feet. “Maybe he isn’t possessed? Or maybe whatever possessed him left his body?”
I shake my head with my eyes narrowed on Henry. Call it a gut feeling, but … “He’s pretending.” I wander back to the table to retrieve my dagger then return to the bathroom doorway. Henry is still crying, but he watches me as I pat the blade against the palm of my hand. “I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”
Henry’s bottom lip quivers as he eyes the dagger. “Gemma?” he asks in a feeble tone.
“Have you ever felt a knife slice through your flesh, Henry?” I crouch down and angle my head to the side. “I have.” I hold up the palm of my hand where a scar mars my flesh. “I accidentally cut my hand once during defense class. Really deep, too. I had to see a healer witch and everything.” I flip the knife around in my hand, over and over again. “I think I’ll cut deeper on you.”