Steal the Stars [REWRITING]

Annabelle - Aliveish

The palace corridors were the definition of confusing.

There were new twists and turns with every step James and I took, and I wondered if Leo had even made it up to the tower, or if he was just hopelessly lost somewhere, wandering around. But that seemed unlike him, considering most of the time he was Mr. Navigation, and had pretty much memorized the floor plan of the palace. Also, he would never just 'wander around'. He'd probably find us before we found him if that was the case.

Which it clearly wasn't not.

We didn't see anybody as we make our way to the tower, and it feels weird to be running through an empty palace. But we did knock out a bunch of the guards, and leave plenty more trapped in the ballroom. Some are probably still trying to recover from the bombs James set off, too. And others must be still scouring the grounds for us.

For now, we were in the clear. This is the window of time Leo predicted, and also planned for us to get out in. He and Nicole, however, are nowhere to be seen. Which could mean we end up stuck here, and then captured and possibly dead.

If Leo and Nicole weren't already.

I was good at thinking positively.

"Here," James said, and yanked open a door that assumed led to the tower. To be honest, I had no idea. I hadn't paid much attention to any of those maps we were supposed to look at, and my knowledge of the palace was limited.

I really should have paid more attention.

Jammes paused where the corridor diverged and glanced at me. "Thoughts?"

"Um." I blinked. "Left."

"Why?"

"Instincts?" I tried.

"You have no idea, do you?" He rolled his eyes. I'd lost track of how many times, and I wondered if somebody could get hurt from doing that too often.

"Nope, but neither do you." I started dragging him down the hallway. "Left it is!"

I'm right. I'm right, but I don't feel like gloating about it, because when we find them, I almost wish we hadn't. That we could go back to a few hours ago, where everything was fine, I was happy, and no one was hurt.

Nicole's head snapped up when she heard us, and she automatically reached for her knives. James put his hands up. "Chill, it's just us." He stared blankly at them and swore. "What happened?"

Nicole started shaking her head. "It's my fault. I'm sorry. Annabelle–help. I'm sorry."

I walked over and knelt beside them, assessing their injuries. Leo's looked worse, but would also, I figured, be easier to heal. They were clean cuts, and it'd be like stitches, but easier. Nicole's were definitely less life-threatening, but filled with glass and dirt. Getting it out would hurt, I knew that.

"Okay." I took a breath. With magic, I was supposed to be the healer, the one who could fix everyone easily. I could, but I hated blood and anything like that near me. I would much rather be fighting, because then I didn't have to look. I didn't have to see the aftermath.

Slowly, I pulled at the threads just above his back. It was almost exactly like stitches, but less painful and more effective. Another spell for the pain, and he'd be back on his feet in minutes, maybe a little sore tomorrow, but fine. Still, I'd done it to myself multiple times, and I knew it hurt, despite being a better alternative than a regular doctor.

Leo's breaths came in ragged gasps, and he clutched Nicole's hand. He was clearly trying to pretend like he was fine, and wasn't doing great at it. But the last time I'd healed an injury even remotely like this on myself, I'd sobbed, so he was doing better than me, at least.

"Done," I finally said. It'd scarred–I knew it would–a long diagonal cut across his back. "Now, I have to do the front." I winced. "It's going to be worse. Sorry."

Leo just nodded and squeezed Nicole's hand–whether to reassure himself or her, I didn't know. He'd pressed his shirt to the wound in an effort to stanch the bleeding, which hadn't worked super well, but had also probably kept him alive until now.

"Hold still," I told him. I removed the shirt and started to work, praying I wouldn't mess up. It was clear from the start that it was going to scar, too.

It was slow. I couldn't go any faster without possibly messing up and making it worse, but going slowly probably hurt more. I went with keeping a slower pace. If I messed up and hit something, it would probably kill him. Which would not be good, and was not something I wanted James to add to his Annabelle's Dumb Mistakes list.

I didn't kill him–somewhat surprisingly. When I finished, he slowly sat back up and pulled his shirt back over his head, wincing slightly. He was still pale and in pain, but I could tell it had started to fade. He would be able to walk–and possibly run, if he was lucky–now, at any rate.

I still didn't turn and gloat to James (now was definitely not the right time) but I made a mental note to do that later.

I turned to Nicole, trying to judge how to start. I decided the cut on her forehead was the easiest, and also wouldn't scar. I barely had to pull on any threads before it closed up, without leaving a trace it had ever been there at all.

I did her knee next, and she barely flinched. Her hands were the same story. They both scarred, but she barely reacted to it at all. I didn't know if this meant she was in shock or something, or that this was a good thing. I decided to hope for the latter.

When I started on her arms and the glass, the problem began. As the first pieces of glass, pinked to the floor she winced. When I moved on to the next few pieces, a shudder ran through her entire body, and she gasped softly, twitching away from me. When I moved to take the next pieces, she jerked away from me.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"You can." Leo wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her steady. I took out the next piece, and she flinched, crying out faintly before she could stop herself. She pressed her lips shut and squeezed her eyes closed. Leo whispered something I couldn't hear to her.

I tried to go as fast as I could without making it worse, which probably wasn't very helpful. I closed the wounds on her right arm, once the glass was gone, and left a criss-crossed pattern of scars.

"Annabelle," James said, glazing back down the hallway, "hurry."

Taking the glass out of her other arm was no easier. She was shaking, her breath coming in rapid gasps. Leo kept murmuring to her, whatever he was saying inaudible to me. A tear rolled down her cheek as I pulled out more glass, and Leo held her tighter to him.

"Almost done," I said. "Promise."

She gave a tiny nod, and I started pulling on the threads. I watched as bloody cuts became scarred over skin, like one of those masks they sold during certain holidays with different faces on each side.

Finally, I sat back. "Done."

Neither she nor Leo moved for a minute, as she kept shaking, clearly struggling to regulate her breathing again. Leo said something and she nodded, before he finally helped pull her to her feet.

"Okay," Leo said softly, his arm around Nicole. She looked pale and had apparently found a very interesting spot on the ground to study. "Let's get out of here." 

Word Count: 1,310