Chapter Thirty-Seven The Nova #3
His body began to change, to grow. His inability to control his emotions made it hard to keep his shape.
I leaned back, a slow nod as I considered my next words. “I am a pet to you, a project.” I laughed. “You made me to imprison me, in the same fate you so despised.”
“At first,” he replied, his voice shaking, “but not anymore.”
We stared, and I waited for more words, more excuses. His tongue seemed to be caught, too tangled in his lies to justify his actions.
“Where am I right now?” I felt the tears in my eyes forming, genuine astonishment at the intricacies of his betrayal.
“You’re where you should be.”
“Where am I?”
“Look”—he cupped my hands in his like a prayer—“if you stay, I can let you pass to and from whenever you like. Just please—”
“Let me go,” I demanded.
“You can’t leave!” he shouted, his face contorting, half of it turning monstrous.
“You are a manipulator, a deceiver!” I shouted at him.
“Stop!” he yelled, and I threw myself back. He grew in size, the shadow taking over his form, the feathers scattering.
I stumbled back farther.
Like the first time we’d made contact, an impossibly massive black form spanned before me.
It towered over the cliffside, his humanoid silhouette of shadow hanging above.
His claws threatened to break the ledge under my feet.
Fists the size of my entire body. The claws could break trees or impale bodies.
The glow of all three of his eyes like a scrutinous spotlight.
“I never left my study, did I?” It wasn’t a question.
The beast creaked as he lowered his head, his claws digging into the side of the cliff, crumbling it. The stillness was frightening at first, like he could snap at any moment. I could be snatched up, my fate decided for me. But the longer I waited, the more I realized . . . he couldn’t.
Why did he need permission at all?
Then it all fell into place.
Encouraging my escapades wasn’t from boredom, or kindness, or curiosity. He’d always intended for me to go, but he needed me willing.
“You were going to convince me to die anyway, because that’s what you need, right?” A laugh escaped me, and I closed my eyes. “For me to release myself from my body, into your grasp, willingly. If you insist you care, tell me if my words are true.”
“Please”—the voice was deep, composed of a thousand voices blending together, possibly collected over the lifetime of stars—“stay.”
“You cannot keep me.”
He leaned down, his form shrinking to meet me at the ledge. The dark form stood, its body shaking. Could it be anger?
My eyes closed for only a moment.
When I opened them, he was human again in appearance. He stood with slumped shoulders, a heavy brow, and hopeful eyes. He wore day clothes, and he held out a hand for me.
I hovered my palm over his, tracing over it with my nail, never fully grasping.
I leaned in, his hands smoothed around my waist. His palms were so warm, they almost felt real.
He touched his cheek to my head, his grip slightly tighter.
I touched my forehead to his chest. He was good at pretending to take breaths.
Instead of a heartbeat, that unnatural thrumming and the whispers of the cosmos untold.
I lifted my head, and his lips came to meet mine. They crashed together, held on. His grip was so tight that I feared, for a moment, I might give in. Stay.
We broke the kiss.
His lips hovered over mine, as if anticipating a change of heart.
I leaned up on my toes, feathering my fingers over his neck and jaw.
There was hope in his eyes, a bright flicker.
“Goodbye, Altair,” I said with a smile. “You were a life of lessons.”
Then I whispered against his lips.
“Obscuria.”
His face fell, and so did I.
Without hesitation, I slipped from his arms and stepped off the mighty ledge.
There was a roar, a vibration that struck me so deep within my core, I swore it would stop my heart completely.
With the falling came an ease, the sensation of floating.
The cold waters never hit; no pain was ever felt.
I was suspended—and then a stiffness at my back.
Gravity settled, and I could feel myself lying on a flat surface.
It was like falling out of a dream, then coming to consciousness on the floor.
The air was warm now, a little stuffy. My mind awoke, and I knew I had left that world.
With one hand, I smoothed over hard wood beneath me.
Then, I reached up with my other hand.
Ting!
And wood in front of my face, as well.
I opened my eyes to nothing.
Around my ring finger was a tightness, a string.
I flinched, pulling at it.
Ting! Ting!
When I sat up, my forehead hit the wood.
I was in a box.
A safety casket.
“Help,” I croaked, and I pulled the string again. “Help!” I wailed.
I yanked on the string, the bell’s frantic clamoring muted through the chute.
And the ringing would go on for hours before anyone noticed, even longer before the digging would start, and all the while I wondered if I really was returning to the world I knew.
All I knew was to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
And ring.
Until I heard the undertakers’ shovels knock on my casket door.
End of Book One