Chapter 27
Sable
My heart hammers against my ribs as I charge down the front steps in search of Lynx. Adrenaline has cold sweat beading along my spine. The cold pierces me deeper than my bones.
I can’t lose him. I won’t survive this version of the afterlife without him. He’s the only thing keeping me sane—the only one that makes me feel like me.
He’s not the one who’s supposed to fucking die.
Oxygen rages through my lungs as I sprint toward the sound of the commotion. A crack of lightning follows a deafening roar, and I almost trip over my feet, gawking at the clear sky. That looked like fire. It wasn’t a white streak but orange.
Another type of demon?
“Lynx,” I breathe, willing my body to move faster until it feels like my joints might crack against my smokey body.
I stumble to a stop when I spot two demons. Lynx glares at Tidus. No one else is around.
My body protests as I jog toward them, scanning both for injuries. Moonlight glistens against the dark liquid dripping down Lynx’s bicep. Panic drives me to sprint forward.
“Lynx, you’re hurt.” I rush to his side, grabbing his arm to inspect the wound. My neck cranes because he towers over me in his demon form.
“It’s fine,” he says but doesn’t step away, letting me angle him to get a better view. “Give it a couple of hours and it’ll be like it never happened.”
The blood seeps down his arm in a steady stream that seems to be slowing with every heartbeat. The tension eases from my shoulders.
His skin doesn’t have a sickly pallor, and he doesn’t seem to be bleeding a weird color, and no one is stressed about the wound.
So I guess it’s fine. It doesn’t look life-threatening.
Even if it was, what could I do about it?
I can’t take him to a hospital, and it’s not like I know the first thing about playing kitchen witch.
Tidus butts my hip as if to say, You didn’t ask me if I was hurt.
I bat him away because I’m still annoyed with him. “We should still wrap it,” I tell Lynx. “Just in case.”
That seems to be his limit because he pulls away, giving me a look I can’t quite decipher, but there’s almost a flash of something vulnerable in his eyes. “I told you it’s fine.”
“And I told you I’m going to wrap it.”
I move to drag him toward the house, wondering where I might be able to get supplies. There’s running water inside the manor, but the pipes are gross and rusted—not much better than the nearby lake. I think there’s a clean-ish sheet in the upstairs cupboard that I could use as a bandage.
A high-pitched laugh carries through the night, and in the blink of an eye, Lynx’s red horns descend into his head, and his body shrinks to the size of a large human.
The party and all the people around are nowhere in my mind. I can hear some of them inside and the pump of music through the walls, but it’s nothing short of a miracle that no one saw the demons or the hellhound.
Tidus lifts his nose up into the air. His nostrils flare twice, then he’s off. Lynx and I both yell after him, but neither of us gives chase since he’s heading in the opposite direction to the house.
My attention slides to the black mark staining the ground, like someone smeared coal along the grass.
We’re sitting ducks here. We can’t live like this.
I straighten and bite the inside of my cheek, trying to think of a plan to get us out of here, or find some hidden power that will allow me to see the future. I drag Lynx inside, keeping my hand pressed against his wound while ignoring his protests.
We follow the staff stairs up to the top floor to avoid running into anyone, then head into the guest bedroom I’ve been treating as my base. He doesn’t fight me as I reinspect his arm to find that the wound is almost sealed over.
Lynx got lucky this time. What if one of those things hits an artery the next time? Or his throat meets their claws?
My stomach twists at all the possibilities that will leave us worse off. He must be choking on the same knowledge because we’re both silent, staring at his wound as if our fates are written in the pattern of the blood that’s run from it.
Slowly, I look up at him. Our gazes lock, and he frowns like he knows what I’m going to say before I even open my mouth. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re certain more won’t keep coming.”
His throat bobs. “We’ll figure it out.”
I drop my hand from his arm and step back.
I need space to think and properly gather my thoughts.
“We keep saying that. ‘Figure it out’ isn’t a fucking plan, Lynx.
We can’t be trapped here forever. I can’t die without making sure my parents are locked away for a long, long time, and over my dead goddamn body will I let them take this house from me. ”
“I know.” His face is grim.
“Then what are we going to do about it? Saying ‘I know’ and walking around hoping for the best isn’t good enough. If our answer isn’t in the grimoire, then we need to think outside of the box.”
Lynx offers nothing.
I run my fingers through my hair. “What if…?”
A thought twists inside me. It makes my stomach curdle. My attention slides to the wound before going back up to his face.
He’s always had such hypnotic eyes. Even in the darkness, I can still pick out the startling blue of his irises. They glow regardless of where the moon is in the sky or where the shadows touch his face. His eyes always give him away. The unnaturalness of them.
One of the last things I remember seeing before I died was those eyes. If I’m taken out permanently, I hope they’re the last thing that crosses my vision again.
“The spell I used to summon you here,” I start after taking a deep breath.
“What if somehow when you killed me, that’s what triggered our bond.
You can’t go anywhere unless I’m there. You said it yourself that spirits can be stuck in places when they have unfinished business, and it’s abundantly clear there’s no way I’m going to be able to speak to my sister.
And—and if that soul sucker comes, either you get dragged back to Hell, or I die for real, or both. ”
Barbed wire seems to grow in the space between us as I speak.
“What are you getting at?”
“If I’m not here, you’ll be set free.”
“No.” His tone leaves no room for debate.
It’s not like we have any better ideas. If he dies, I’m still stuck here. If I die, there’s nothing stopping him from living out his life.
I grab his forearm, begging him to listen to what I’m saying. “Think about it. I’m a ghost. I’d rather be taken out permanently than be stuck here watching my parents live. Once you leave, you can make sure the book with all the evidence makes it to the police.”
He shakes his head, eyes blazing with betrayal and hurt. “I told you that you’d be taken somewhere far worse than here. You wouldn’t just die.”
“So will you. It’s better one of us suffers than both.”
“That’s not an option.” Lynx grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You hear me? It’s not a fucking option. You don’t get to die.”
“I’m already dead, Lynx,” I whisper.
“No.” He shakes his head again. “Don’t—don’t say my name when you talk about shit like that.
You don’t get to fucking leave me,” he says with such vigor and rage that my lips part in disbelief.
“Your blood is on my hands, and I may never be able to wash it out, but I might as well be dead if you aren’t there with me. ”
Heat burns my eyes, and I blink the tears back. “Lynx…” Every cynical, pessimistic inch of me is screaming that it’s a lie. I hear my parents’ voice telling me it’s just a phase because no one could ever truly want me.
Whatever Lynx sees on my face, he reads it as the worst.
He hurries to say, “If you don’t feel the same, then whatever, fuck it.
I think I’m fine with that. I thought I’d be fine walking away if this is all one-sided.
That we could be on separate sides of the property or ignore each other for the rest of eternity.
But I’d rather you hate me and be by my side, than for you to be outside of my reach. ”
Anything I could say ties my tongue into a knot.
His heart is on his sleeve, and he’s handing it to me on a broken silver platter that could cut either of us with the slightest jostle.
I feel completely bare even though he’s the one who laid his cards on the table, and deep down, way below the surface of my skin, where I thought no light could ever reach, something fragile blooms from the seeds of hope Lynx planted before I realized what was happening inside me.
He sees me. He sees through all my bullshit, looked my inner monster dead in the eyes, and he still wants me.
“It isn’t one-sided,” is all I manage to say, though there are a thousand words flying through my mind, and none of them taste right.
But this? This feels right. Us being together. I’m dead and fucking buried, but we were both murdered.
Lynx stops breathing, his eyes fixed on me like he’s waiting for me to take it back.
We’ve been cursed to be stuck to each other’s side. I used to think it was a sick twist of fate, and maybe it is, but the only thing cruel about it is that one of us won’t make it to the end unless we break out of this prison.
The silence between us stretches, only the beat of the music and the sound of voices carrying into our dark room. Slowly, he lowers himself until our foreheads touch, and it’s like feeling the first ray of sunlight on my frozen skin.
How does one get used to the feeling of being wanted when they never thought it existed? Looking into his eyes now, I’m not sure I ever will. I died without knowing, but I guess the philosophers were right when they said that dying is getting a second chance at life.
“Truth or dare, Sable.” His voice is a rough demand that thickens the tension until I can barely breathe.
“Dare,” I say, barely above a whisper, as a shiver ripples down my spine.
“Ask me why I spend every spare moment at your side now, even though I’m the reason you’re here.”