Chapter 55 #2
I assumed my phone and other belongings would be at Micah’s house, so I headed there next, taking the bus just as I normally would, anxiety winding tight in my gut as I sat in my usual plastic seat. Just hold on for a few more minutes. It will be okay soon.
But when I got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house, it became obvious that he wasn’t home. Neither was his truck. It made me uneasy. Surely, he’d be expecting me to come back here first.
My stomach turned just a bit more.
I took a deep breath, blinking away my tears.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I walked back to the bus stop, then waited for one to bring me to Mason’s apartment.
When I finally made my way through the parking lot at his apartment complex, I spotted Micah’s truck, relief trickling through me. He’s here.
I went in the lobby then up the elevator to the sixth floor, tears stinging more with each step.
All I could think about was Micah kissing me on the forehead again, telling me he was proud, and how everything would be okay now.
Or Mason, holding me against his chest in a warm shower.
Both of them, sleeping next to me in the bed as I pretended I wasn’t still sad about the baby I’d lost.
Standing in front of Mason’s front door, I raised my fist to knock.
Silence.
I knocked again, harder.
Nothing.
I pressed my ear to the wood, trying to listen for any noise coming from inside, but there was none.
Maybe with my new strength I could break in to the apartment?
It was a dumb idea, but I was going to die if I couldn’t see them now, so I had to try.
I backed up a few steps, staring at the wood, then ran forward and hit the door with my shoulder.
Surprisingly, I heard wood splintering upon impact.
Not enough to open the door, but something.
I threw my body into the door again, and it gave way, flinging open and slamming against the wall. I stumbled into the apartment, then stopped dead in my tracks.
The same bad feeling from earlier magnified in my body, flooding my new ichor-laced veins.
It looked like a bomb had gone off inside Mason’s apartment.
Black smoke singed every surface, jagged lines of onyx seared into the floors, all the furniture broken. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by dull shafts of light coming through the covered windows. I slowly shut the door behind myself, pushing it back against the splintered frame.
The couch had been ripped open, the coffee table in pieces, the walls battered, glass all over the floor, crunching under my boots as I walked.
“Hello?” I called out quietly.
I crept past the kitchen, staring in horror at the granite slab lying on the floor.
It was half of the countertop on the island, snapped clean off.
Cabinet doors hung from their hinges and ceramic dishes were nothing more than shards littering every surface.
The door of the fridge had been ripped off and bent in half.
Maybe they’d been fighting.
My fingertips brushed a smoky line on the wall, blacker than the paint.
“Mason?”
I continued down the hallway towards his bedroom, tentatively pushing the door open. He was sitting on the end of his bed, surrounded by more wreckage, staring at the floor.
“Mason?”
No response.
I approached him. He was completely motionless, not breathing. And I had no idea how long he’d been like this, how much power he’d accumulated in his body, how strong he would be now.
But I wasn’t weak anymore, wasn’t a breakable human. I was Sigeian. I could help him until Micah got back—or I could try.
I didn’t know how to do it, and I was scared to try, but I wanted to help him if I could. Nervously, I attempted to feel for his emotions, focusing my reach on his skull, standing silently in front of him.
One second, I’d breached his wall, and the next, he was on his feet with his hand around my neck, slamming me against the ground.
I screamed as my skull hit the wood hard enough to dent it, grabbing at Mason’s hand tightening around my throat, every bit of air in my lungs knocked straight out of me.
All it took was that one instant inside his head, and I understood more about him than I’d understood over the past many months. It was indescribable.
And I needed Micah. I couldn’t fucking handle Mason alone. Not like this.
“Mason, stop,” I choked out.
“Do you think you can fucking replace him?” he shouted. “Just like that? You’re going to invite yourself into my head and see if you can control me? Guess what, you fucking can’t. You’re never going to be strong enough to do it.”
“I just wanted to help you,” I cried, struggling against the force of his palm on my throat. “Just until Micah gets back, I thought I could try. I thought you would be—proud. I thought—”
“Until Micah gets back? Until Micah gets back?” His voice got louder, his expression more unhinged, his eyes darker. “Micah is dead.”
“What?” I barely breathed out, my eyes wide.
“How do you think you’re still alive? You think he can breathe his entire life force into you to save your life, and the universe is going to let him live through that? He is dead.”
Breathe his entire life force into me?
“He can’t be dead.”
“He can and he is. He died, Dakota. I watched his body burn.”
“No.” I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. My mind kept waiting for the end of the sentence, the part where Mason said something that made sense. “No.”
Mason stood up and stalked away from me. I sat up.
There had to be another explanation.
Micah was hurt.
Missing.
Healing.
Angry.
Anything but—
No.
I sprung up to my feet, stomping out of Mason’s bedroom.
“You’re lying. Tell me the truth,” I demanded. This had to be another game, another thing Mason was saying to hurt me. Like he always did.
“Are you fucking stupid?” he spit out. “Hit your head when you fell?”
“No. What are you talking about?” The lump in my throat grew, tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m not stupid.” Micah doesn’t think I’m stupid.
“Then listen to what I’m telling you,” Mason snapped. “Micah—your Micah—is dead. That truck hit you and it killed you. He gave up his life to turn you into an angel. It doesn’t happen naturally when Angelakia die. He had to sacrifice himself for you.”
My Micah.
Gave up his life.
“I thought—Is he in Heaven?” I questioned, panicking. “Was he up there when I was? Can he come back? Can’t he just fall again? Is he healing?”
“No. When an angel dies, it dies.”
“No! He’s not dead. There’s—”
“He’s dead, Dakota. Forever. There’s no afterlife we can come back from. There’s no…”
His mouth kept moving. But I couldn’t hear anything after that.
He’s dead.
Forever.
There’s no afterlife we can come back from.
The room tilted without actually moving.
Something inside my chest stopped.
“No,” I choked out.
No. No. No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
He was just here.
He’s coming back.
This is wrong.
“No!” I screamed. “Tell me you’re lying!”
But Mason didn’t say anything at all.
My fingers went numb.
I couldn’t feel my feet anymore.
My stomach twisted so violently I thought I was going to be sick.
I couldn’t swallow.
Every muscle in my body pulled tight, waiting for Mason to tell me he was lying.
He still wasn’t saying anything else.
No.
“Mason! Please!” I yelled desperately.
I watched his throat move as he swallowed hard.
“Take me to him! Go get him and bring him back!”
His lips pressed together in a tight line and he shook his head.
No.
This can’t happen.
My knees buckled, my vision tunneling as I hit the ground.
A scream ripped out of my mouth, an animalistic noise that burned my throat on the way out, a noise that hardly sounded like it was coming from me.
But it was.
I couldn’t stop screaming.
I shook my head over and over, my whole body trembling powerfully in a way I had no ability to stop. Every gasp became another sob and then another scream and I couldn’t get enough air as much as I tried.
My teeth were chattering, my vision blurring, my body folding up smaller and smaller on the ground.
No.
I was just with him, I—