Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
The first thing I realize when I come to is that I am not dead.
It takes a moment to convince myself of this, because for all intents and purposes, I should be.
There’s the blood, for one, soaking through my fleece, on my palms, running down my nose.
Then there’s the fact that I’m unable to get up, burdened by an oppressive weight and a jagged, painful javelin poking into my back.
“Sean!”
Julian. My body floods with relief, like I’ve been wandering through a desert and come across a pool that is not a mirage.
Then clarity hits me like a cast-iron skillet, and I force myself up onto my hands.
Robbie is lying on top of me, all three hundred something pounds of dead weight, because that is what he is—dead.
The blood that soaks me from midback down is from his body, though I must have hit my nose hard when I fell.
Horrified, I try to roll out from under him, but find that I’ve been pinned.
Someone grunts, then rolls him away. I flop onto my back, use the last of my energy to boost myself up onto my elbows, and find myself looking up at my savior.
“Jules,” I say through a cracked, hoarse throat. “You’re here.”
“I was almost too late.” He sounds, and looks, as haunted as I feel.
There are dark circles under his eyes and his lips are chapped like he hasn’t paused to drink in hours.
He has just killed a man. Not by draining his life, but the way most men do—with his hands and steel.
It feels wrong to be grateful for his violence, but I am, and so entranced by his beauty too that I almost forget that we are not alone.
I look up and see Ritika who, thank god in heaven, is very much alive, though with a bandage wrapped around her head—her gun trained on Leila, who has put her own aside to curl Sophie in a spider-tight grip.
I suck in a breath, swivel around the room to find Winona struggling and weeping in Aditya’s grasp as Onix stands guard next to him, looking between me and Winona for the signal to attack.
“Let me go,” Winona sobs.
“It’s not safe to touch her, Winny,” I say, my head swimming.
I’m probably three concussions deep now, and I have to fight to stay conscious.
I reach between my legs for Robbie’s fallen handgun.
It’s heavy and alien in my ripped hands, but it feels like armor when I crawl to Winona’s side.
She looks down at me with a tear-streaked face.
“What is going on, Sean?” she shouts, at the same time that Leila spits, “Stay back! Or I send our little darling on a fast track through puberty.”
Her clutch on Sophie tightens just enough to prove that she can and she will, and Winona gasps, both understanding and not.
Julian uncurls to his full height. His steps toward Leila are cautious; a lion tamer approaching a feral juvenile.
“Enough, Leila.”
Leila shuffles back, squeezing Sophie tighter. Sophie sniffles but doesn’t speak, and her lower lip trembles. Immediately I am ravenous with bloodthirst. How many shots would it take to put you down? I wonder. Where do I have to aim?
Julian’s voice, though, is so gentle that I wonder if it is laced with his suggestion.
“I thought we didn’t bring children into this,” he says.
To my shock, tears sprout in Leila’s eyes.
“Since when did you become so self-righteous,” she hisses. “I’m doing this for us.”
“But I don’t want this,” Julian says. He bends, slowly, until he’s on one knee in front of them, then turns to Rose, who has turned bodily away from the scene. “Rose doesn’t. And Alphonse didn’t either.”
“You and Alphonse are the same,” Leila seethes.
“You don’t even think about our family. You’re all just rushing to leave me behind, all for these no-name bitches who you swear are so special even though you’ll meet another one just like her in fifty years!
Even Rose is going crazy these days, saying she wants this to end too.
But you don’t understand. You’re denying your true nature.
You’re spitting in the face of our gift—”
“Is it really a gift?” Julian asks. “Because I don’t see you enjoying it, Leila.
I don’t see you living. All you do, all the time, is run.
From coast to coast, town to town, host to host. All I’ve watched you do is try to survive.
You’re alive, Leila, but you have no clue who you are, what your life really could be, if you let yourself be more than this.
” His gaze flits to me, and I swallow against a hard throat; I’m not sure I will ever get tired of how this man looks at me, like I’m his world shrunk down to person size. “If you let yourself feel, for once.”
When Leila doesn’t respond, Julian places a gentle hand on hers.
They overlap, his bronze against her warm tan against Sophie’s sandalwood.
Despite everything, Leila transforms before my eyes.
I understand now why Julian felt so sure that he could convince Leila to give up the hunt without harming her.
The Leila Pendersen I’d gotten to know in the cath lab, who was sweet as apple pie and helpful and committed to her job, the one I couldn’t help but like, isn’t entirely a fabrication.
She is the person who existed behind her fear and uncertainty. The mortal, huddled in a god’s cloak.
“The world is different than the one we were born into. You know that,” Julian implores.
“I’ll help you start over. Do this right.
You’ve always been the smartest of us; you could do incredible things.
And yes, you might grow old, and eventually die, but it can be a beautiful life.
One you can look back on with joy and without regret. ”
Leila’s chest is heaving now, tears dripping down her face, messy and uninhibited, and I find myself stunned by how the ugliness of her sobs can only make her more beautiful.
“Like Alphonse did?” she says.
Julian squeezes her hand.
“Yes,” he says.
I hold my breath. Wait for Leila to let Sophie go. But Leila is shaking her head, and my heart drops to my stomach.
“No,” Leila says. “I don’t want that. I want you to choose me, Julian. Stay with me. We’re all we have.”
Her words shatter me, and I would fall to the floor if not for Winny, who needs me.
Winny, whose hand I grasp as she begins anew to struggle and sob.
Julian starts to speak again, frantically now, this time in a language we can’t understand, but Leila is still shaking her head, her entire body trembling, and Sophie, knowing she’s in danger but not understanding why, begins to weep.
There’s a creak, almost missed in the noise.
Rose.
“Stop, Julian,” she says.
Julian startles back. He hasn’t seen Rose since the Ulrich Corridor, and he takes in her appearance grimly as she glides into the room. She surveys the scene coolly, looks from Ritika to Aditya, to a horrified Winona, to me, before settling on Leila.
“Rose,” Julian begs. “Please. Please, I can’t do this again—”
She holds up a hand to silence him.
“You’ve been selfish,” she says, her high-pitched voice somehow echoing with command.
“You and Alphonse both. You don’t even understand what it is you’re asking of her.
You want her to decide to die, just because you have?
To live like you have? You’re making light of her just suggesting it. I would’ve expected better of you.”
Leila’s eyes brighten with hope just as Julian’s collapse in despair.
“Thank you, Rose,” Leila says, relieved. “I knew you would understand.”
“Of course I understand,” Rose says soothingly. “It’s different for you and me. It’s always been. The boys have gotten to play with their fun adventures, their property and land, and all this time, we’ve been running, haven’t we? Always hiding, when we should be able to stand tall in who we are.”
“Yes!” Leila’s voice carries high, and Sophie winces against the sound. “See, yes, you get it, Rose, I knew you would! I don’t want to do ‘incredible things.’ I am incredible. I’ve always been!”
“You have, my beautiful sister,” Rose coos.
She steps in close, cups Leila’s cheek in a soft caress, moving around Sophie as if she isn’t there.
“Let the child and her mother go. They have nothing to do with this, and they shouldn’t suffer for that stupid man’s foolishness.
We’ll get rid of that woman, get our brother back to his senses, and do things right this time. As a family.”
“As a family,” Leila repeats.
And then, miraculously, her grip loosens, and Sophie slips out of her grasp.
Aditya and Ritika mobilize immediately, collecting my exhausted best friend and her daughter into their arms and ushering them out the back door to safety.
In the space made by Sophie’s absence, Rose slips in and squeezes her sister tight.
A sound like a croak comes from Leila’s throat, and then they are sobbing in each other’s embrace.
I almost faint with relief. I could run too, but then Rose and Leila might give chase, and I’m satisfied with this ending.
After all, Rose has kept her promise to me.
There’s a nudge against my arm: Onix, my sweet boy, deciding to stay.
I stumble forward, ready to face the music, when Julian grabs my arm.
“No,” he growls. His eyes are wild, manic, and in his other hand, he’s holding his gun.
“I won’t let them touch you. Rose—” But Rose doesn’t pay him any mind.
She folds herself into Leila, wraps her spindly arms around her waist and holds on tight.
They rock back and forth together, tears trailing down their cheeks, making such a picture of familial love that it takes me a heartbeat to realize what is happening.
Because Rose is…growing.
It happens slowly, then all at once; her arms thickening, legs lengthening across the bloodied floor.
“No,” Leila gasps. She struggles, pushes against her sister’s hold, which only seems to strengthen by the second.
I watch, dumbstruck, as Rose’s tiny body overtakes her sister’s, first growing taller, then broader, her hips widening and arms lengthening until she eclipses Leila altogether.
Their cries change too, heighten then abate, Rose’s deepening and lengthening while Leila’s disappear altogether.
Next to me, Julian looks on in astonishment.
“Rose,” he says, bewildered. “What did you just do?”
Rose turns to face us. She looks not unlike how she did when we first met, stately, with fine, chiseled features and eyes sharp enough to cut but now softened by tears. There are subtle lines in her forehead, around her lips, but her hair is still thick and jet-black.
In her arms lies an infant. It stares up at Rose with adoring green eyes, like she is the only thing she has ever known.
This is why Julian calls it a transfer, I think. But I never considered their exchange of life could go both ways.
“She’s been suffering too long,” Rose says.
“This way, she gets to start over with us. Unburdened by her memories. A true blank slate.” She looks at me, her mouth set in a line, then back at the babbling baby in her arms. “Motherhood isn’t something I’ve had the chance to experience.
Maybe I can raise her right. Will you help, Julian? ”
Julian doesn’t answer immediately, but he does stagger to his feet. His jaw is tight, every muscle of his back tensed, but when he stands the first thing he does is gather them into his arms. The baby coos, and I see her tiny, chubby hand reach for his face.
“How?” he says, his voice full of wonder. “How did you know you could do that? How did you give it back?”
Rose shrugs.
“I didn’t know,” she says. “I just knew that I wanted to, more than I wanted anything else. And so I did.”