Undone

I would not tell.

He must have seen that, because I felt his attention focus on me, warm and liquid, passing over and through me. It was . . . soothing. Like his hand, which was stroking my hair, avoiding contact with my fragile, newborn skin.

His expression changed, eyes widening. I didn’t have enough experience with human faces to know what that meant. “You’ve been cut off. Cassiel, you’re dying. Why has Ashan done this to you?”

He was right; I was dying. I sensed my hunger, a dark core of desperation inside that was growing worse with each labored breath I took. Dji

No wonder it all hurt so badly.

I felt David lifting me, felt the drag of gravity heavy on my flesh. What if he dropped me? I imagined the impact, the pain, and felt a horrible surge of terror. I huddled in his arms, helpless and furious with inadequacy.

Cassiel the great. Cassiel the terrible.

Cassiel the undone.

I forced my senses outward, away from my raw flesh, to focus on the world around me. I was in a human home of some type, with no memory of how I’d found it, or how David had found me. Everything seemed too bright, too sharp, too flat. I couldn’t sense my surroundings as I should have been able to, as a Dji

As a Dji

But instead I sensed it as a human might, in surfaces, interpreted in light and smell and touch and sound. And taste. There was a foul metallic coating in my mouth. Blood. I swallowed it, and felt a twinge of nausea. I could bleed. The thought made me feel even more fragile.

The bed sagged on one side as David seated himself next to me. “Cassiel,” he said again. “Try to speak.”

I licked my lips with a clumsy, thick tongue, and squeezed air from my lungs to mumble, “David.” Just his name, but it was a triumph of a kind. And his smile was a reward.

“Good,” he said. “Before we do anything else, let me give you some power. You’re badly injured. I won’t overload you—just enough to stabilize you. All right?”

He took my hands in his—gently, but still my nerves screamed in protest at the unfamiliar touch. I rattled inside, and realized that what I felt was anxiety, cha

The fear mounted as I felt the warmth David granted cascade into me . . . and pass right through me. I couldn’t hold on to what he was trying to give. It was maddening, like watching life-giving water flow by in a tu

David let go and sat back. Behind him, the sun was rising through an open window, a fierce ball of fire draped in oranges and reds and pinks, barely filtered by the thin white curtains. I turned my face away from its burning, unable to feel its energy the way I had as a Dji

A closet on the far side of the room was open, revealing a dizzying rainbow of cloth and color. The room smelled sharply of perfumes, soaps, and sex.

“This is Joa

I shook my head, or tried—that was the currently accepted negative gesture, or so I thought. Even though I had never taken flesh before, there were things the Dji

That was the fault of the New Dji

David looked at me soberly for a moment, then put his hand flat against my forehead. A kind of benediction, very light and gentle.

“You’re in pain,” he said. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you, but you’re not one of my people. You’re Ashan’s. I can’t touch you, and I can’t undo what he’s done.”

Ashan. Ah yes, I was Ashan’s. I was one of the Old Dji

I struggled to hold to that knowledge. Already, the aetheric seemed so far away. So unattainable.

“I’ll speak with him,” David said, and tried to rise. I forced my muscles to my will, and grabbed his wrist. It was a weak hold, hardly even strong enough to restrain a human child, much less a Dji

“I’m sure,” I whispered. I had just doubled my output of human words. It felt ridiculously cheering. “He won’t listen.”

I was tired from the effort of saying it, and closed my eyes, but the blackness within terrified me, and I opened them again. David was still frowning at me. He began to ask a question, then stopped himself, shook his head, and smoothed my hair again.

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll try to find a way to help.”

I struggled with a pitiful feeling of gratitude, and the ghost of an old, imperious wave of contempt. Contempt for him, for caring for me at all. Contempt for my own appalling weakness.

“Rest,” David repeated, and despite everything, I found myself burrowing beneath the warm covers, into the smell of another human’s skin, and darkness slipped over my eyes. I didn’t want to let go. I fought.

But it won.

I woke up to a woman’s voice, dry and lightly amused. “Okay, David, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there’s a naked girl in my bed. No, really, I’m sure. And you have about—oh—five seconds to come up with it.”

I blinked, turned clumsily in my cocoon of sheets and blankets, and saw the woman standing over me, arms folded. She was tall, slender, with long dark hair and eyes like sapphires. Skin like fine porcelain, lightly dusted with gold.

Even as unfamiliar as I was with the subtleties of human facial expressions, she didn’t look happy.

I heard David stir on the other side of the room, where he’d taken a seat in a wing chair. He put aside a book he was holding and stood up to come to the woman and put his arms around her. “Her name is Cassiel. Dji

“One of yours?”

“Actually, no. One of Ashan’s.”

“Ashan’s? Oh, that’s great. Perfect.” With a shock, I realized that the woman must be Joa

“Good question,” David said. “I don’t know. She isn’t saying much. She can’t.”