Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
ALEX
“Why are you following me around?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
Leo, apparently, spooked easily. He misinterpreted things, and when he got the wrong signal, he ran.
Surprising for someone who talked with his fists.
I was learning, though. There was a fine art to navigating Leo, a tiptoe through this new friendship that made me want to work even harder to solidify it.
He’d been like this for days. Biting aside, I’d considered the mission a success.
Lycean was in custody, and I’d gotten at least a little information from him before Leo and Reed went berserk.
Splinter’s leaders were in Nightmyre; but the organization had gone worldwide, at this point.
After debriefing with Dahlia, she mercifully gave us some time off while she coordinated our next moves.
But since then, he’d latched himself onto my side.
I would have been fine with it if he would act normal.
Instead, I’d adopted an aloof cat with attachment issues.
Contracts at the hospital? Leo was there.
Going out with Reed? Leo was there—much to Reed’s enjoyment.
He hadn’t been stumbling through his words; there was too little said to do that.
At first, I thought maybe all of our progress was lost. Tensions were high; I was snappy before we even got to the club, and the whole thing ended up in a shitshow. The look on his face in the warehouse stuck with me, though. Pure fear.
It wasn’t that bad, was it?
Better than being bombed, anyway.
Leo shrugged, his shirt pulling tight against his shoulders. “I have nothing better to do.”
“Then get a hobby!” I squealed, raising my hands as patients and visitors in my unit turned to gawk.
I lowered my voice, almost hissing as I said, “I feel like you’re babysitting me, or I’m babysitting you — I’m not even sure anymore.
If you want to hang out, then we can do that.
But you’re being weird, and it’s scaring my patients. ”
He was a rock wall, with nothing on his face to give me anything to go on. That fear I’d seen? Completely gone, replaced with that stone mask. Every snide remark, every glare and frown, was a front that he put on to keep people at a distance. I wanted to know why.
Leo leveled his eyes with mine. “Be real with me; what’s the draw of this?” He waved a hand toward the hallway. “You’re watching people die; watching their last and worst moments without any possibility of saving them. Why do you do it?”
I organized the smelling salts in my backpack before giving him a withered look. Since my surgery, I hadn’t needed them, but walking around empty handed felt vulnerable. “Why are you avoiding my question?”
He didn’t respond, and waited for my own answer.
I sighed. “Because I know they’re going to die, and I can make it easier on them. Instead of pain and machines and doctors, they see a beach, or a childhood home, or the love that got away. I always know what I’m walking into, and they always go peacefully. No one’s life is in my hands.”
Leo nodded, and I knew he was taking in every word I said, locking it away in some part of his brain. “That makes sense.”
It took me a moment, watching him as he fiddled with his hands in his pockets, his eyes glancing around us every few seconds before returning to my own. Leo always kept his back to the wall, making sure he was a step behind me whenever we were moving. His head was a permanent swivel.
Is that it?
“Are you trying to protect me?” I blew out my cheeks as I withheld my amusement. “Is that what this is?”
He frowned, and his silence was deafening.
“Nothings going to hurt me.” I lowered my tone again, attempting to be serious as I flipped through my clipboard of paperwork. “Lycean is in custody. You don’t have to waste your time.”
“There’s more of them out there,” he grumbled. “Joon would kill me if I left you unprotected before we take Splinter down.”
Is that it? He feels like he has some duty to uphold, for Joon?
For some reason, my heart sank a little. It made sense; they were partners, friends. He felt a responsibility toward me, or maybe he just didn’t want to see someone else die. But… we were getting closer, weren’t we? Had all of this been built on his loyalty to Joon, or was I going crazy?
“You know… you don’t talk about him,” I tested the waters. “I mean, you’ll mention his name, but it feels like there’s more you need to say. If there is, I’ll listen. I won’t break down or anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Leo went pale, and I wanted to take the words back.
Don’t run away; talk to me. You’re allowed to have a voice, too.
“Alex!” Doctor B called from down the hall, and we both snapped our heads up.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I whispered before waving back at my beat-red boss. “What’s up?”
He jogged toward us, his lime green crocks scuffing on the just-polished floor. “I have,” he paused, gasping, “an unusual request. But with your new upgrades, I think it would be possible, revolutionary even.”
Leo and I exchanged a look before I nodded. “Alright, I’m in. What do you need?”
Unusual didn’t even cover it.
My job at the hospital had always been to help people pass peacefully; to take away their pain, any regrets, and put the family at ease, knowing that their loved one died in the most comfortable way possible. But I wasn’t here for the patient this time. Doctor B wanted me here for his family.
I studied his social media for forty minutes before I was ready.
Leo had sat beside me, silent, but peeked over my shoulder endlessly with that curious look.
Normally, I’d only need to see their face, and then I’d pull them into my daydreams. The emotional toll was the hardest part.
This, though… it was an entirely new form of torture.
Chin-Hae was already past the point of what I could do for him; he had no brain activity left, which meant there was no one to actually send off anymore. His body was on life support, but there was no mind to manipulate.
“Are you sure about this, Alex?” Dr. B hovered his palm over the door, as if he’d actually let me walk away when we were so close. “I know this was a big ask, but I figured with your ability… I do believe this could change their entire grieving process.”
I swallowed hard. “I can do it; they deserve it. They deserve to see him again.”
There was a lump forming in my throat. Chin-Hae was twenty-six-years-old, born only two hours from Joon’s home town, before moving to Nightmyre with his family when he was fourteen.
Joon was twenty-six when he died, too. The similarities between them were overwhelming, nauseating.
His last social media post was a picture of lilacs that he’d taken in a park.
I can handle it. I can do this.
We didn’t have a body to bury, and Chin-Hae’s family couldn’t recognize him as he was now.
He was a firefighter who was off duty—he ran into a blazing building anyway, without his gear, to rescue a child that was stuck inside.
According to the news articles, he’d managed to get her out the window and onto a ladder before he got trapped.
The fire took away every recognizable piece of him after that.
Chin-Hae was a hero, too. Not with credentials, or class, but with honor and bravery.
I can do it.
“Okii-dokii, here we go,” Dr. B let out a long breath before opening the door.
Chin-Hae laid in his bed; body charred, his nose, ears and lips completely erased, a mass of flesh that didn’t even appear human anymore. Machines breathed for him now. They beeped endlessly while wires hung around the space like vines in a morbid, trauma-inducing jungle.
I sat beside him, forced my fingertips to touch the wrist I knew he could no longer feel.
“Hey there, Chin-Hae,” my voice cracked. “We’re gonna make you look real nice for them, alright? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
He didn’t respond, of course. Dr. B stayed silent, too, while I went to work.
I’d taken special care to study the parts of him I knew would be exposed, the parts his family was most likely to fixate on.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d attempted a real illusion; one of substance that could hold up before I collapsed.
Sixty percent. You’re working at sixty percent capacity now, Alex. You can do this.
The air above him shimmered, and my illusion started to come to life.
Black hair sprouted, shining and healthy.
I had to ask Doctor B if it had still been cut into a stylized mullet, like in his pictures—it was.
He had a small mole below his left eye, and another on the bridge of his nose.
A full face, tanned skin, and a tattoo of a tiger on the back of his hand.
When I was done, he looked like he was merely asleep, the blackened skin no longer visible. I made sure they could see the rise and fall of his chest, the pulse in his neck. Every detail was solidified in my head.
“How long should it last?” Dr. B gasped as he inspected my work.
I took a deep breath, my lids growing heavy as I forced them to stay open.
“I don’t practice illusions too much anymore…
” I blinked, and had to rub at my eyes as my muscles grew heavy.
“They’re more difficult to maintain than the daydreams; taking something out of my head is harder than putting something inside it.
I’d say two hours at most, to be safe. I’ll stay close in case anything goes wrong. ”
He crossed his arms and frowned. “Let’s call it an hour and a half, and I’ll have nurses checking on you.”
My head bobbed with a nod. Doctor B helped me to my feet, linking an arm with mine to walk me into the hall.
I’d wait there, close enough to keep my hold on the illusion, but not too much to intrude.
The moment we stepped out of the room, Leo was there.
He reached around my waist, relieving Doctor B of balancing duty.
“I’ve got her,” he said, and his voice was hoarse.
“Were you waiting?” I squeezed my eyes shut as he started to move me to a bench two doors down.
My head was pounding, and the new horns hummed, growing warm. After Leo sat me down, a low vibration jostled the hair around my attachments, and the headache began to fade. I yawned, but sleep wasn’t imminent anymore, just desired.
“You thought I wouldn’t?” Leo towered above me, standing with crossed arms as those eyes scanned for any hint of side effects. “There’s no chance I’d walk away after you got sent into something like that.”
I smirked, but my lips were trembling. “Did you see him?”
He didn’t reply.
“After, I mean. Did you see what I did?”
“Yeah.” There it was, that hoarse tone; he was choking something back. “You’re incredible, Alex.”
“Sixty percent output,” I sighed, and my vision blurred. “It really changes the game.”
“It does.”
The lights were too bright, and Leo standing there was starting to give me anxiety. I patted the spot beside me, not entirely sure if I actually touched the wooden bench or not.
“Please sit down. I need something to lean on right now; literally.”
Leo was beside me in an instant, and I could tell that he was putting out more heat than usual.
He bumped his shoulder against mine, letting the warmth bleed in.
It was too much. Every emotion, all at once.
I was exhausted, and Joon sat in the back of my mind.
His funeral — that empty box. Chin-Hae was bad, but they couldn’t even find a piece of Joon after the fire that took him.
Charred skin, missing facial features, hollow eyes.
That’s what Joon would have looked like, too, before he was turned to ash.
I didn’t notice when Leo had wrapped his arm around my shoulders, or when my face was buried in his shirt sleeve.
It took until my face was wet to realize that I was sobbing.
That didn’t break me, though. I knew it was coming; I knew it would be difficult the moment I was told that Chin-Hae had died in a fire.
This was expected, it was normal; it was healthy.
What shocked me, what ripped into my core and made everything come crashing down, was Leo. He held me tighter, his fingers digging in almost enough to hurt. When I looked up, his head was down, and that ash blond hair dusted in his eyes, creating a shadow.
It wasn’t enough to hide his pain, though.
I had never seen Leo cry, couldn’t even picture the image until now. It wasn’t messy, wet hiccups, or rivers of tears creating puddles on his lap. Leo’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his lashes were wet. Short breaths made his chest fall uneven and ragged, and every muscle in his body was tense.
Talking made me feel better, but Leo wasn’t me.
I took a risk and put my hand at the back of his head.
His hair was softer than I would have thought, and when I ran my fingers through it, his grip on my arm went lax.
Touch could be a language, too. A way to communicate pain, or heartache.
When he lowered his head even more, making it so that I didn’t have to stretch, that was his way of talking.
I scratched at his scalp with my nails, pressed my thumb into the muscles of his neck, and watched as he deflated. It had taken three years for me to grieve, but Leo hadn’t even started.
How could he if he doesn’t have anyone to grieve with?
Somehow, he ended up nearly crushing me on the bench.
He’d leaned into my touch, letting his heavyweight settle against me.
I didn’t mind, though. This time, I had my arm wrapped around him, rubbing circles into his shoulders and playing with his hair, doing anything I could to melt away the stone exterior.
“Alex,” Doctor B bent down with a whisper as he nodded to Leo. He’d fallen asleep with his head on my shoulder. “You can release it now. You did well—the family was able to see him again for nearly two hours. Their last memory of him will be of him sleeping, healthy and glowing.”
I glanced down at Leo, his cheek smushed against my collarbone, and noticed the wet streak on my shirt from his silent tears.
“Two hours can make the difference of a lifetime,” I said.
Joon was gone regardless, but there was that hole inside of me, and the one I knew that Leo had, too. If we’d gotten two hours, would things be different now?