20. Failure
20
FAILURE
KRYPT
Everyone has a moment in their life that changes them. That warps the trajectory of their path and sends them down a road they never meant to walk on.
This is mine.
Because Remiel is my path, and now he’s trying to force me down a different one. I won’t fucking let him. Because I missed the signs. For how raptly I pay attention to him, I confused his trip to damnation with his trip to a finite ending, and it all circles back to me. I left him last night, and now he’s leaving me tonight.
I’m good in a crisis, but… this is Remiel, and I’m choking on panic. Fear’s sharp claws drag through my insides, scorching me internally while I externally take in the scene.
I know what he swallowed. I even know where it came from. Because there’s only one man smart enough in Moros to make a pill for suicide, and he’s the only man I know to call for help.
“Krypt?” Director answers the phone while my hands shake. “Where are you? You’re supposed to be getting ready for this job at?—”
My voice jitters, my words coming out too fast. “How do I stop a suicide pill from working?” I stare at Remiel from across the table, refusing to turn into him from the night of Ophelia’s death. I won’t experience this second-hand like he did. I will turn back the fucking clock and stop the world from moving forward until Remiel is off death’s doorstep and back under my possessive control. He’s scared. I can tell he is, but he’s also unhinged and doesn’t regret it. “And how much time do I have?”
“You take it?”
“No. Answer me.”
“Not long. When was it taken?”
“A minute ago.”
“Get him to the asylum. Now. Where are you?”
“Cauldron.”
“Sending someone.”
I hang up and grab Remiel’s arm, hauling him from the table. When the server tries to tell me I haven’t paid, I fucking snarl at her and keep moving. He’s off-balance and fading fast, the pill zapping his energy and slowing his heart already. I can’t fade. I can’t spiral. I can’t fail him.
The Ambient Raven is too far up the street, and I don’t have time to walk him there to get my vehicle. Remiel’s legs start giving out, so I hold him up with one hand and pull a gun from the back of my pants with the other, pointing it at a pedestrian getting out of his car.
“Keys. Now.”
She locks up in fear, but another vehicle screeches to a halt on Death Row. “Get him in! Now!” Glitch yells, and Facts hops out of the passenger seat to open the back door for me.
I haul him into my arms, carrying Remiel, and climb in the back with him, his body already weakening. When Facts climbs in the back with me, I snap at him.
“Fuck off.”
“Open his mouth.” He opens a small vial. “Hurry!”
I prop Remiel’s head on my lap and force his mouth open, letting Facts pour black sludge down his throat. Remiel chokes, coughing some of it back out, so Facts slaps a hand over his mouth until he swallows. We’re speeding down Death Row towards the asylum when Remiel groans and chokes up more black liquid.
“He’s going to throw up,” Facts says. “White pill should stand out if his vomit is black.” Does he carry charcoal around on him in case something like this happens?
He does throw up, and the charcoal makes it foamy, but I don’t see a white pill. I don’t see it! And I’m panicking. I’ve never panicked a day in my life, but I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t know how to beat this curse and keep Remiel in my world. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
I have a fear now. It’s losing Remiel Sauder.
“Fuck you, Remiel! Fuck you for being the worst hero!” I smack his face and he throws up all over my lap. “Fuck you!”
I try to hold him still to stop his shaking, but I blink when Facts touches me. I’m the one shaking, and I’ve never felt more helpless. Because Remiel is still now. His body isn’t moving, and he’s not throwing up. His eyes are rolled back, his eyelids open, and I shake harder.
“Remiel!” I scream in his face.
Because his six minutes were cut in half by that pill, but it’s me who is experiencing a highlight reel of all my regrets.
I should have paid more attention to him. I should have seen this coming when he acted differently today. I should have taken that mad sheen in his eyes more seriously, and I should have let my brother and Ghost help me. I should have treated him better, showed him how strong he is, proved to him he’s important to me so he never had to ask. I should have answered all his questions instead of goading him about what it means for me to snap.
Because this is it. I’ve snapped. If Remiel leaves this world without me, I will follow him all the way to the pits of Hell and stalk him there until he knows what punishment really is.
Because I got attached. I don’t know what love is, but I know what obsession is, and Remiel is the focus of my life. I’ve never had an obsession quite like him, and the loss of it feels too much. It’s impossible. It’s wrong. There’s no longer a Krypt if there isn’t a hero.
For how trained and experienced I am in emergent situations, my body is not reacting like it was taught to. I can’t catch a full breath, the shaking is unbearable, and the pressure filling every cell of my body is going to suffocate me in fear and loss.
I have something worth losing. I barely got to fucking grip it in my fist because fate took it away from me, and to mourn is to die. I’m dying with him.
“Remiel,” I beg. “Look at me! Focus on something. Don’t you fucking die.”
“One minute,” Glitch shouts from the front. “Facts?”
They talk, but I don’t hear them. Because Remiel’s chest is going nuts, his heart beats both too fast and too slow, depending on the second. He jerks, spasming violently, and I break completely.
“Remiel.” I hold him still and try to force him back to my world. “Don’t you fucking leave me here! Wake the fuck up!” I smack him, trying to jar him back to my side of the white light.
My vision blurs. Wet and glassy.
“Epinephrine!” I shout. “Someone give me an EpiPen!”
No. No. No. No.
How fucking dare he test me like this?! How fucking dare he show me that I’m not as strong as his family curse? How fucking dare he try to leave me when our bargain is not yet met and my monsters were just starting to warm to him?
I haven’t freed you, Remiel!
Am I important to you?
I should have said yes. I should have admitted it. I should have told him that he’s everything to me, even though I don’t know what it means. I’ve never regretted anything, but I regret this. I regret my bargain and my obsession. Because it fucking hurts!
Pain lances through me from everywhere. Ten million stabs just in my heart and a trillion more everywhere else. My vision blurs and my head pounds, and I’m begging. I’m begging him to stay, but I’m begging the devil not to take him.
“He’s mine!” I roar, my voice different. Jittery but dead. My fingers dig so hard into his skin, but he doesn’t react. There’s no pain left. He’s not feeling anything because he’s gone…
“No!” I smack him. “Remiel!”
The SUV jolts to a stop, and my heart stops with it. Someone tries to rip him from my arms, but I’m snarling at everything and everyone. And then a needle pricks my neck and Remiel is taken from my clutches.
“Here.”
I’m dizzy, but I see needles and instruments and IV lines being hooked up to my broken, dead hero. I see something go down his throat. I see his body jerk. I see pads and stretchers and wires and bodies.
It’s all a mad blur. A nightmare come to life. I never thought my biggest fear would be the death of a person because I’ve never given a shit about life and death and the people in it. But I do now. I do because Remiel is mine, and I’ve never had anything worth protecting. I failed him, just like he knew I would.
I’m clutching at air, stumbling to get to him, angry at the world for tainting him so wholly. For making me such a failure. I’m dizzy with wishes and overwhelmed with grief that I haven’t given permission to consume me yet. Not yet. Not yet.
Don’t fail him. “Remiel.”
Don’t take him from me.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Please, give him back. “Remiel.”
“Krypt.” Ransom is right in front of my face, gripping my head. “Trust me. Got it? Fucking trust me. I promise you.”
Then everything goes black. I die with Remiel.
When I wake up, I’m more furious than I’ve ever been. More terrified than I’ve ever been. More panicked and more broken.
And chained.
“Remi! Someone get me the fuck outta here! Where’s my brother!”
I blink away the haze and see Ghost chained next to me. We’re in the cells of Vile House, chained to the fucking wall like a pair of possessed men.
I bolt upright, almost passing out again at the suddenness of it. “Remiel?” I ask him, voice distorted. “Where the fuck is he?”
“You fucking bastard!” Ghost snarls, spitting at me. He’s close enough that he turns his rage on me, the chain around his wrists loose enough to be manipulated.
I don’t fight it when he wraps it around my neck and pulls it taut from behind. Because I’m ready to die. I’m done here. Ready to move on to a new world with Remiel. Because there’s no point in being here anymore. Not in Vile House, not in Moros, and not in this world. Without my purpose, I’m a shell, only filled with unkempt guilt and unbearable grief that makes me angrier than I’ve ever been.
Kill me, Ghost. Kill me, Soren. It’ll be a favour.
Electricity crackles in the air, and then we’re both tense and spasming on the stone floor of the cell. Not even electrical chains can jar me back to life. When the shock stops and the tremors fade, I stay there and stare at the ceiling, feeling nothing but death.
Not even numbness. No, I’m too guilty to feel numb. I don’t deserve numb. I deserve pain and suffering, emotional turmoil, and unrelenting shame. Because I failed him, and now Soren has to suffer the loss of another brother and prepare for his death next. Because I’m stupid. I made a deal with a Sauder man and thought myself stronger than his curse.
How fucking dumb have I been? I’m not strong. I’m pathetic. Fucking useless. Good for nothing but harm and death, and that’s exactly what I did to Remiel. I killed him when I told him I wouldn’t.
I became obsessed with him quicker than I realized. I ruined him so thoroughly that I’ve ruined myself.
Ghost is crying next to me. I’ve never seen him cry before. Not even when his dad and brothers died, but he’s doing it now, and it sinks me further into shame. I don’t know if I’m capable of crying, but to know I’ve made him weep for the loss of yet another brother is enough to gloss my eyes with something wet.
His hand jerks, landing on mine, and he doesn’t move it. He keeps it there, his palm on the top of my hand, and continues to hyperventilate next to me. I spread my fingers so his fall through them, and he doesn’t fight it.
I killed his brother.
I killed his last remaining brother.
I killed the person he was trying to save.
I killed his last hope of beating the curse.
I killed his pride by proving to him that he’s not strong enough to end the curse either.
I’ve never been sorry before, but I am now.
“Both of you,” someone shouts, banging against the bars of the cell. “Look.”
Neither of us lift our heads. I don’t think I can. I can’t even move because I don’t want to move. I’ll fade away right here and fight my way through Purgatory to get to wherever Remiel ends up.
“Suit yourself.”
Beeping, rushing, frantic voices and medical orders come from a speaker, but Ghost and I both jolt into a sitting position when Remiel’s cry of anguish joins the sounds. Seven stands outside the cell with a tablet aimed at us, showing Remiel being revived. Ransom is there, doing something to Remiel, and Director is handing him vials and syringes, and there are lines and wires everywhere.
Then Remiel coughs again. My cracked heart cracks even more, creating a fissure so wide the two halves will never go back together again. I don’t know if it’s relief I feel or something stronger, but the guilt is still rampant.
Seven clicks out of the video and opens another one. Remiel, on a hospital bed in the asylum, hooked up to a heart monitor that shows his is still beating.
“He made it. Thanks to Ransom.”
Ghost cries out in relief.
But that numbness I said I wasn’t worthy of has enveloped me in an unwanted hug.
Because Remiel is alive, and I can never see him again. If I do, I’ll kill him for trying to leave me. With the loss of grief, fury takes over.