Chapter Twenty-Seven
Darcy
In the morning, I wake early. My body is sore, but my magic is soothed, Gabriel curled at my side, his nose pressed against my shoulder. He has both arms shoved under his pillow, a tumble of dark curls over his forehead. He looks so beautiful like this. So peaceful.
“You’re staring,” he mumbles. One dark blue eye blinks open in a squint. “Why are you awake?”
“Don’t need sleep,” I remind him.
“You should,” he argues. “After what I did to you last night.”
I grin at the way he slurs his words, wiggling closer until he can wrap himself around me. He digs his face into my thigh, brushing a kiss against my knee, and I scratch my fingers through his hair.
“Come back to bed,” he grumbles, probably as close to a whine as I’ll ever hear him.
“I am in bed.”
“Cuddle me.”
I laugh and push his hair off his face. “I am cuddling you.”
He sighs and wiggles further down in the bed. “But you’re thinking about getting up.”
“Yeah,” I confess. “I am. I thought I would go see Frank this morning.”
The guilt that’s been eating at me is gone now, replaced with a quiet reassurance. I don’t know if that’s Gabriel’s influence or my own, but I’m grateful for it all the same.
Seeing Frank is a loose end I need to tie off before my business with Gideon.
Gabriel sits up next to me, the sheets pooling around his bare waist. He looks delicious like this. Sleep rumpled and naked in my bed. Hair wild and scratch marks on his shoulders.
“You need to do that right now?” He tucks a wide yawn in the crook of his elbow. It’s so sweet my chest aches. I want a hundred more of these mornings. A thousand.
But I think this might be the last one I have.
I force a smile. Even if this is the only one I get, it’s been more than enough. Better than I ever could have dreamed.
“He’s been avoiding me,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I want to catch him during his soil shipment.”
I slip from the bed and start piecing myself together before Gabriel can set his mind to unraveling me. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to withstand it if he tried.
I feel his eyes on me as I tug on my tights. My skirt. My plain black T-shirt. I hesitate, then grab his flannel where it’s puddled on the floor. I slip it over my shoulders.
Gabriel’s face lightens to something pleased. “It’s a good look.”
“Thank you.” I curtsy. “I’ll be keeping it forever.”
His smile slips. Just a bit, but enough for me to notice. “Forever sounds pretty good,” he says, wistful.
I lean over the bed and press my mouth to his. He immediately curls his arm around my back, tugging me closer, deepening the kiss. I sink my fingers into his hair and hold on, letting myself pretend for a second that this is a beginning, not an ending.
But Gabriel pulls away with a sweet peck to my nose, and I tell myself to let go.
“Come find me when you’re done,” he says, his eyes searching mine. I keep my face carefully blank, hoping for once in my miserable existence it doesn’t betray me. “I’ll take you to lunch.”
I exhale and force myself to smile.
“That sounds nice.”
Frank has kept the shop closed for most of the week, but I’ve seen the shipments that have arrived at the back door.
I know he’s slowly restocking the flowers I accidentally killed.
I time my arrival carefully with the large white van parked in the alley and I wait behind it until Frank opens the door for his supplier.
As expected, he’s not exactly happy to see me.
He tries to slam the door in my face, but I grip the edge of it, holding it open.
“I know you don’t want to see me,” I tell him quietly, aware that the man unloading peonies out of the back of his truck is watching us from the corner of his eye. “But there’s something I need to tell you. I’ll leave after. I promise. You won’t hear from me again.”
I don’t make any contingencies about if he wants me to stay. I know Frank’s forgiveness isn’t something I’m entitled to.
He stares at me, his usually warm eyes hardened by anger.
“Please, Frank,” I beg. I can’t leave without having this. I can’t. “I’ll only take a minute.”
The seconds stretch between us. The flower delivery guy shifts behind me.
“Uh, can I put these down, or—”
“I’ll take them,” I offer quickly, holding out my arms. Frank doesn’t argue, and I take that as tacit agreement. The deliveryman quickly deposits them in my arms without touching my arms with his, then hightails it back to his van. The van barely starts before he’s peeling down the alley.
I look to Frank, my arms full of his most precious blooms. He stares at them, then drags his eyes to mine. “Try not to kill them this time.”
Relief is swift and dizzying. “I’ll do my best not to.”
He nods, then opens the door and lets me inside. I set the flowers carefully on the space he indicates, then back away, giving him room to sort them. He does so immediately, his head bowed over the stems, his glasses perched on his nose.
Without the distraction of action, my nerves creep back in.
“I wanted to—” I have to pause and collect myself. “I wanted to tell you about them.”
Frank’s hands pause in their work. The only indication he’s heard me at all is the tense line of his shoulders.
So I continue, and hope I’m not making a terrible mistake.
“There is a place where souls go, once they’ve departed from this place.” I choose my words carefully. I’ve never spoken about this to anyone. I’ve never had to. “We call it— Well, it doesn’t matter what we call it. It’s just the place where we take our assignments before they move on.”
Frank slowly resumes his work, sorting his flowers into collections of pale pink and white.
“There is a room with a door. And in front of that door is a single desk. All souls pass through. Reapers are not permitted to go beyond it, but on the day I brought your family—” I exhale a shaky breath.
“When I took your family to that place,” I try again, “I caught a glimpse of where they went. I was hoping I could share that with you, in case it helps.”
Frank turns to look at me. “In case it helps,” he repeats.
“Yes.”
He levels me with a sharp look, then turns back to his peonies with a grunt. “Fine.”
“It smelled like the sea,” I tell him. “That day when the door was opened, it smelled like sunscreen and salt water. I could hear waves crashing. Seagulls in the distance. I only got a glimpse of the sand and the water, but there was a—I could see a massive rock, nestled in the middle of the surf. It was hollow in the middle, in the shape of a—”
“Bridge,” Frank interrupts. “The rock was in the shape of a bridge.”
His back is to me, a single white peony held between his fingertips.
“There are two bridges formed by rocks at that beach. The water moves around them. Sometimes when the water is calm, the bridge reflects in the water. It looks like a perfect circle. My daughter, she—” Frank lifts a hand to his face.
He has to pause for a long time. “My daughter used to say it was a window to another world. One where fairies exist. She said she wanted to live there with them and learn how to fly.”
Tears fill my eyes. “That’s where they’re waiting for you, Frank.”
He turns to me, his glasses dangling from his fingertips. He doesn’t even try to wipe his tears away.
“How do you know that?” he asks.
I manage a smile. “Because I’m the one who took them there.”
I leave Frank shortly after, not wanting to overstay my begrudging welcome.
The afternoon sky is dull and gray as I step out of the shop, a brisk wind funneling down the street and lifting the edge of my coat.
I wrap it tighter around me and cross my arms over my chest, setting off toward the docks.
I’ve been avoiding the pull of my magic, but I lean into it now, letting it guide me where I need to go.
Jack-o’-lanterns line the streets, their grotesque faces watching in silent vigil. Kids run back and forth between the shops in their costumes, bursting in excitement for the festivities to come. The wind is unforgiving as I get closer to the docks, the bite of it punishing against my cheeks.
Good, I think. This is how it should be.
Nate is halfway down the dock, standing at the edge by his boat, cording some rope around his arm. He hears my boots against the wood and turns to look, squinting against the melting autumn sun.
You don’t have to do this, a voice that sounds like Gabriel’s whispers. You can turn around. Pretend you were never here.
But I can’t. I can’t. I thought I could outrun being a Reaper, but I can’t pull myself free of my responsibilities without implicating someone else. I won’t be the reason Gabriel loses his wings.
No. This is how it has to be.
Nate raises his hand with a grin. “Hey, Darcy. Need a lift?”
I barely manage a smile in return. “Actually, I was hoping you could come somewhere with me.”