Chapter 36
“Sam,” Crew shouts.
Josh lowers his eyes to the ground, and I stay focused on him. He’s calm. His hands tremble slightly, yet his stance is steady. Even behind his tired eyes, I see his acceptance and willingness to help his family and us.
“This is the route we have chosen to go down,” Sam responds.
“Who exactly?” Crew snaps. “You? This was never part of the plan.”
Sam shrugs, casually. “This was before we knew Lowell would want to take out the entire Haber family.”
“Alright.” Crew laughs, throwing his hands. “So, let’s get ahead of this. I’ll shoot Riggs in the head right now.”
He begins to unholster the gun around his waist, and I can feel the chaos starting to swirl once more around us.
“Fire that gun, Bannermin, and I’ll rip your heart out,” Sam barks back. “You know we have to play their games, or we’ll all die.”
“Then we are already dead, Sam,” Crew spits back.
Riggs steps in. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Crew.”
I roll my eyes watching their bitch fight continue and turn my gaze away.
Sam, Riggs, and Crew engage in another argument about ways to avoid this, letting their disagreement fill the air.
Their chatter taints the room with anger as I observe Josh.
His gentle features remind me so much of a younger Riggs.
His soft blonde hair falls around his ears, his eyes are weak yet striking, and a sadness fills me knowing how much life he could have had ahead of him.
The painful reality of being human is that time runs out, whether we are aware of its passing or not.
I contemplate my extended life—how I will witness many generations age and die while I remain unchanged. How will I feel one hundred years from now? Will I still think of these moments, or will the blur of life fog my memories as I continue onward?
It’s an unsettling feeling that will linger with me.
I walk toward him while the others continue their conversation, offering him a soft smile. As I get closer, I notice the gray tint of his skin and the sickness visible in his body, as if it’s slowly spreading outward, ready to consume him whole eventually.
“How long have you been sick?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“As long as I can remember,” he responds. “But it got worse around five years ago.”
I narrow my brows. “Are you in pain?”
Josh lowers his gaze. “Every single second.”
“You don’t deserve this,” I respond. “You don’t deserve this pain.”
He smiles, already accepting his ill fate, and my heart breaks.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“I turned twenty last week.”
“You are a Cancer baby,” I say. “Happy late birthday.”
“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” Josh questions. “How old are you?”
Shit.
I smile. “You aren’t supposed to ask a woman that, Josh.”
He laughs. “Ah, what have I got to lose?”
Hearing his laugh, the gentle tone of his deep voice leaving his throat, wraps me in warmth, and I can tell that he may not share that sound with people often.
“I’m thirty-two,” I respond. “My birthday is in November.”
“Scorpio,” Josh says. “Explains a lot.”
I chuckle, placing my hands on my hips. “You don’t know me, sir.”
“And you don’t know me,” he replies.
“I can see you are a good person,” I say, looking him up and down.
“You can tell that from this brief interaction?”
I smile softly, placing a piece of fallen hair behind my ear. “Call it a talent.”
“You are an angel?” He tilts his head.
“Yes, part.”
He sighs with resignation. “Then can you tell me why bad things happen to good people?”
A sorrow moves through me, and I think about all the bad that has happened to so many people I know. And if I could, I would explain to Josh why fucked up things happen, but I can’t.
“I don’t know why, Josh.”
He nods and glances toward the other men still in a heated conversation.
“I can get you out of here where Lowell won’t find you,” I say, turning the conversation. “I know his tricks. We can make this work.”
“But that wouldn’t stop me from dying, Mara.”
Sadness overwhelms me, and he’s right. Eventually, no matter what happens, his body will give out, and the Grim will come for him.
My mind swirls with thoughts on how to avoid this.
My entire adult life has been surrounded by death and the lives I’ve ended, because I believed I was working for a higher power.
But now everything has changed—I’ve changed—and I don’t want to take more lives than I have to anymore.
The Elders may not be able to alter human lives, but I’ve never read anywhere that a hybrid couldn’t intervene.
“I’m not going to kill you, Josh,” I say. “But I can convince you that you aren’t in pain.”
He tilts his head toward me.
“Yes, you will still pass from your illness,” I extend my hand, “but I can compel you not to be in agony. You can live the rest of your days without pain.”
His eyes light up, considering the possibility of not hurting for even a minute of his day.
“But that doesn’t help the other issue at hand,” Josh says. “Lowell still wants me dead.”
“Well, I guess we will have to figure that part out.” I smile again. “Do I have your consent to compel you?”
I hear the chatter in the background come to a hush, and even though I don’t turn, I can feel the men's gazes on me.
Josh nods, and I intertwine my fingers with his and stare into his dark eyes.
“Focus on my eyes, Josh. Only look at me,” I instruct. “Listen to my words. This will not hurt.”
He nods again.
“You are not in pain,” I whisper, burning my gaze into his.
I tighten my grip around his hands and pull him closer.
“I’m not in pain,” he repeats.
“You do not feel discomfort,” I say. “You do not feel sick, and when your time comes, you will feel no pain, only a beautiful peace. A peace that people dream of, and few ever experience.”
His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t blink for fear of breaking the connection.
“You will live the rest of your life pain-free,” I reiterate. “Peace is what you deserve, and is what I will give you.”
I choose my words carefully and dull the noise around me, intent on compelling him without disturbing his genuine emotions.
I only want to convince him that his pain doesn’t exist. I don’t want to alter his personality.
I watch as a heaviness begins to lift from his gaze.
I repeat those sentences several times before releasing my hands from his grip.
Josh finally blinks and releases my hands, allowing me to step back and give him space. I watch as he inhales deeply, for what must be the first time in years, and a smile spreads across his face. I see his true self stepping forward while the pain recedes.
I turn my gaze over my shoulder and feel accomplished as Crew smiles from ear to ear and Sam narrows his gaze. It goes against what we are supposed to do as higher beings, but there is an exception to every rule. And quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck.
“Thank you,” Josh says. “I… I don’t feel the aching.”
I smile as I return my gaze to him, allowing happiness to spread through my body like a warm light.
“It’s there, but you will no longer focus on that aspect of your life.” I step aside, allowing him to walk over to Sam and Riggs if he wants.
“I’m… happy for you, Josh,” Riggs says, sorrow lacing his tone.
My stomach drops, and it takes me only a second to notice Riggs’ expression. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, each second dragging as I turn to face the men behind me.
“This has to happen,” Sam says.
“Wait!” Crew tries to react.
“I love you, Josh.” Sam’s voice echoes like a death wish.
My heart sinks when I see Sam extend his arm, holding a gun and firing a bullet—not at me, but at Josh.
I scream as the bullet hits him in the chest, sending his body stumbling backward into the wall.
The thundering slap of the gun firing echoes around me, piercing my ears as I move in a poor attempt to shield Josh’s body from being hit.
I snap my gaze back toward Sam to see Crew tackle him to the ground, the bond screaming at me to help him.
I fight the urge and crawl to Josh’s body. Blood trickles from his chest and mouth, and I press my hand against his frail body. He coughs, and I notice his state instantly from the blood pooling in his mouth like a crimson puddle.
“Josh,” I shout. “Hey, look at me.”
His eyes go wild as he scans the room, searching for someone or something, as if he’s falling and waiting to be caught. His eyes find me, and even though he is dying, he smiles.
“I’m not in pain,” he whispers. “Because of you.”
“Just hang on,” I beg.
I apply pressure to the wound in his chest, but can’t stop the blood from leaking out. The familiar smell of iron fills the room, adding a red stain to the ground around us.
“Mara,” he rasps, “I got to live a second of my life without pain.”
A tear swells in my eyes, and I ignore the commotion behind me.
“I’m at peace with this,” he says, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m not scared.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
He coughs. “Just make sure bad things stop happening to good people.”
“Wait,” I snap, frantically. “Hey. Hey!”
His eyes shut, his chest stops rising, and I curl my fists at how quickly that happened.
That motherfucker couldn’t have given him a moment to experience life out of pain.
I leave his lifeless body on the ground and slowly stand to see Crew on top of Sam, the gun out of the Elder’s hands, now in Crew’s, and it’s pressed between his eyes.
I storm forward, leaning down and grabbing the collar of Sam’s shirt.
“You are a monster,” I hiss. “You are no better than Lowell and Carver.”
Sam attempts to rise, and I push with all my strength to slam him back onto the ground.
“He was months away from dying, Mara. He wanted this,” Sam says. “He made his choice and was doing something to help us. I’m no more a monster than you are for convincing him he wasn’t in pain.”
“You’re. Fucking. Evil,” I shout again.
“What’s done is done.”