Chapter 11 #2
Levi hangs on my every word but I don’t tell him everything.
Not about the Fates, or the way they watch, whispering from the corners of every decision I make.
The less he knows, the better. As long as I stay the course…
keep chasing the Act, the loophole, the thread that might lead us all home…
then what’s the worst that could happen?
Levi doesn’t need to know more than he already does. And the Fates don’t need another reason to meddle. If they’ve been following my thread this long, then they’ve seen him coming.
And I…
I can keep this separate. I can.
Maybe, just this once, I can allow myself the distraction of something mortal. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. He’s quiet, pondering the weight of it all. “So, your job…is literally a natural fit, then?”
The statement settles between us.
“Yes,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty. “It is.” I shift slightly, my words finding their shape as I go. “I think…even when I stopped being him, it never felt right to walk away from that part of it. Not because I miss the power of the title…”
“Your lack of throne probably doesn’t help,” Levi interjects with a wink.
“Exactly.” I can’t help but laugh. “But honestly, death never changes. Helping people through it feels…right.”
Levi doesn’t attempt to fill the silence that naturally falls between us. He just listens.
“It’s not even really about death,” I add after a beat, my voice quieter now. “It’s about what’s left behind.”
He nods, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs, tucking his knees up to his chest. “That makes sense. Can I ask why here, though? Of all the places you could’ve settled down…why Stonevale?”
I don’t have a tidy, detached answer to offer.
“I think…” I start, my fingers curling around the glass in my hand.
“For a long time, I kept moving. City to city like I could outrun what followed me. The grief. The loneliness. The shadows.” My throat works overtime at the admission.
“You can’t outrun shadows you cast yourself, because they were never tied to a place. They were tied to me.”
Levi doesn’t interrupt. He just waits, giving me the space to divulge my history on my own terms.
“Eventually, I realized a new city wouldn’t change anything. The weight wasn’t in the streets I left behind. It was in me.”
Levi’s hand finds mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he’s grounding me to the present. “So, the glittering jewel of central Jersey?” he murmurs, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “It wasn’t the worst place I’d been.”
He leans in slightly, his shoulder pressing into mine. “And now?”
I take him in, the kindness in his eyes, the heat radiating from his touch. “Now,” I say quietly, “it feels like sticking around was the right choice.”
· · ·
Levi snooping is inevitable.
I knew the moment he set foot in my apartment that his curiosity would get the better of him. It starts innocently enough. We’re still sprawled on the couch, the last sips of our drinks forgotten on the coffee table, when he glances toward my bookshelf.
“Are those…first editions?” he asks casually, like he’s not already plotting his next move.
I hum noncommittally. “Some of them.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
He’s off the couch in seconds, crossing the room with the enthusiasm of someone who treats décor items like an invitation.
I watch from my spot, amused as he trails his fingers over the spines, head tilted with exaggerated focus.
He lingers on a thick, leather-bound volume, the gold lettering faded with time.
“Is this Latin?” he asks, squinting.
“Old Latin,” I correct. “Pre-classical. That scroll was part of the Eleusinian Mysteries,” I add before I can stop myself. “People would leave it at my temples when they wanted to bring someone back.”
Levi whips his head around. “Only you.”
“I’m sorry, would you prefer I had a stack of self-help books instead?”
He ignores me, his attention back to the shelves, and then he spots it, a small, oddly shaped object tucked safely between two books. It’s a bronze coin, larger than most, with intricate etchings worn smooth by time.
“What’s this?” he asks, reaching for it before I can respond.
My heart skips. A reflex more than alarm. “I wouldn’t…”
But it’s already in his hand. He holds it up to the light, inspecting it with the kind of interest I’m sure is usually reserved for his beloved floral arrangements.
“Rumored to be cursed,” I say casually, leaning back into the couch.
Levi freezes, coin suspended midair. “Rumored?”
“Rumors keep thieves honest,” I add, refilling my glass. “Plague, famine, the occasional combustion. The usual.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re messing with me.”
“Am I?” I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth twitching.
He huffs, setting the coin back exactly. Like even if I am joking, he’s not willing to risk it.
“Annoying,” he mutters under his breath, but there’s a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. His exploration continues, fingers trailing over more relics. A bone-hilted dagger, a faded amphora, a cracked compass that never points north.
His hand pauses on a helm tucked half hidden between two heavy tomes. Bronze dulled over the years with wings etched faintly at the temples.
Levi lifts it carefully, holding it up like he’s unearthed treasure. “Is this…wait. This is your thing, isn’t it?” His grin is wide and delighted. “Hayden, you have the Helm of Ha…of you…just hanging out on a bookshelf?”
I shrug.
Lines dance around his eyes when he smiles, turning over the gaudy reminder of my past. “Go on, then. Try it on.”
I snort. “Absolutely not.”
Levi laughs, setting it perfectly back in its place with mock reverence. “Fine. But I’m not forgetting this. One day, Funeral Guy, I’m getting a demo.”
A fraction of amusement tugs at me. My shadows twitch; even they are laughing with him.
I’ve never let anyone linger here. Never invited someone to pick through the carefully curated remnants of my life.
These things aren’t just decorations; they’re pieces of time I kept when so much else slipped away.
I thought it was nostalgia. But watching Levi taking in the edges of my history like it’s something sacred, I realize it’s more than that.
He’s breathing life into things I’d grown numb to.
Levi picks up a delicate silver ring, simple but elegant. “This one’s not cursed, is it?” he asks, giving me a sideways glance.
“No,” I reply, softly this time. “That belonged to someone I loved. A long time ago.”
The air shifts, the playful energy settling into something more fragile. Levi looks at me too long, like he’s mapping every version of me onto the man before him. Like he wants to know each one of them.
“You’ve lived so many lives,” he says, the ring cradled in his palm like he’s realizing it all over again.
I nod.
“And yet, you’re here.” He places the ring down like it’s still sacred, like it deserves reverence, even now.
I don’t have an answer for that. But maybe I don’t need one. He settles beside me, our legs pressed together, but this time it feels different. Like we’re tethered, and if I moved even an inch, I’d notice the absence of him. Oddly, this moment feels more valuable than any artifact on that shelf.
Maybe that’s why I’ve kept them.
Not to remember who I was.
But to remind myself why I’m here.
· · ·
I don’t realize how much time has passed until the first soft wash of pale light seeps through the slats of my blinds, casting faint streaks across the floor. My shadows that had nestled comfortably in the corners all night begin to retreat, replaced by the hesitant blush of dawn.
Levi is still beside me, his face turned toward mine with that same easy expression he’s worn all night. Like talking to me isn’t just talking.
And for me, it feels extraordinary.
Seby is stretched luxuriously across his lap, purring like a machine every time Levi absently runs a hand down his back.
Our empty glasses sit on the coffee table, and the bowl of popcorn we never finished is sandwiched between us.
At some point, we stopped pretending this wasn’t something more.
Our legs are tangled, the line between accidental and intentional having blurred somewhere between midnight and now.
I glance at the clock.
Six twenty-three A.M.
Levi follows my gaze, and lets out a slow yawn, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’ve been talking all night.” His voice is a little rough and it settles into my skin like it’s always belonged there.
I nod, though it feels like an understatement. It wasn’t just talking. It was unraveling. Unfurling. Piece by fragile piece.
And it wasn’t exhausting. The opposite, in fact. It was…easy. Like exhaling after holding a breath in for too long.
Levi stretches, his arm brushing against mine. His sweater has shifted on his shoulder, revealing a stretch of freckled skin that makes my thoughts scatter.
“I should go,” he whispers, though he’s still wrapped in the quiet hush of the room like he’s waiting for an excuse to stay.
“Probably,” I reply, equally motionless.
We sit there, suspended in that strange space between night and day, between what we were before and whatever this is now.
Levi’s fingers toy with the hem of his sleeve, and then like it costs him nothing, he reaches out, his hand settling gently over mine.
His thumb brushes across my knuckles, a simple, steady motion that sends my heart into a quiet frenzy.
Seby stretches before hopping off the couch in search of a quieter corner, giving us a deeply unimpressed look.
“Hayden, I…” he says, his voice still rough. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The words hit harder than they should. Because that’s the thing about immortality, isn’t it? People always leave. But Levi says it like a promise, as certain as the sun climbing higher outside my window each morning. I manage a nod, my throat tight.