CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #3
There was a moment of terrible stillness.
I could see it in Oliver’s eyes, the realization that he was about to die.
Slowly, he took something out of his pocket.
He held the object so tightly in his fingers that it took me a moment to figure out what it was.
But as his hand rose, I caught a glimpse.
Pain streaked through me when I realized it was a paintbrush.
I’d painted the blue flowers along the handle myself, and had given it to him as a gift.
We’d been twelve years old. He’d kept it all this time?
Oliver did it so quickly that, once again, I didn’t register what I was seeing at first. One moment the paintbrush was in his hand, and the next it was poking out of his chest, so deeply embedded that only the bristles were visible.
When my mind registered the blood beginning to slide down the center of my best friend’s stomach, a small sound escaped me.
The sound itself had no name, but the pain in it was unmistakable.
For an instant, just an instant, I wished I could take it back. Doing this to him.
Oliver kept his gaze on mine. Even now, I didn’t let myself release the anguish filling my throat, but I felt more tears dripping off the edge of my jaw. Love you, I mouthed.
He couldn’t say it back, because Oliver was gone. His eyes were glassy and vacant as he fell.
To block out the sound of him hitting the ground, I thought of his smile again. The way he held his arms up on a roller coaster. How sweet he looked with sugar clinging to his lips.
If you died, Fortuna, I’d follow you into whatever afterlife there is. The rest doesn’t really matter, does it?
When I opened my eyes again, Oliver and the dreamscape were gone.
I was back in my bedroom at the loft. It was early, almost seven.
Gray light came through the windows—I must’ve forgotten to close the curtains last night.
It was pouring, and the rain drummed softly against the roof.
Water sluiced down the windows and cast trembling shadows across the floor.
I turned onto my side and stared out at the cloudy, storm-smeared sky and wondered if Oliver was out there somewhere, flying between worlds.
“See you in the next life, I hope,” I whispered.
Only silence and the storm replied.
Normally the silence would’ve driven me out of bed.
I would’ve been brimming with energy and the ever-constant restlessness that lived in my veins.
A restlessness that sent me on long runs through the woods or rushing to town, where I could find an abundance of distractions and ways to keep my mind occupied.
But today, I was a dim light. Today, I just looked toward the window, where that barest crack of day shone through, and I had no interest in it. I turned my head and sank deeper into the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin because I was cold, even though Nightmares didn’t get cold.
For the next several hours, I drifted in and out of a semi-conscious state.
Never fully waking, never completely falling asleep.
Fragmented images flitted through my thoughts like pictures on an old projector.
I saw the awful things that had happened in battle, the terrible things I’d done … and I saw Ollie.
It always came back to Ollie.
But eventually something did stir me awake. The low hum of voices floated through the stillness. When I heard my name, I felt a faint spark at the back of my mind. Not curiosity, exactly—maybe only a dull sense of obligation. Had something else happened? Was someone else I cared about in danger?
I forced myself to leave the warm bed and slip across the room.
I still felt detached from reality, as if I were a ghost. I opened the door half-expecting my hand to pass through the knob.
When I emerged into the loft, I immediately spotted Laurie in the doorway to the stairwell.
His back was to me, and he’d turned in a way that I knew meant he was about to sift.
Collith had taken a single step after him, his hand around the edge of the door, probably to pull it shut behind him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Although I spoke quietly, my voice cut through the stillness like the harsh, whistling wind of the Flint Hills.
Both of them paused, their faces turning in unison.
When the faeries saw me, they exchanged a single glance, and I watched a silent communication pass between them.
Any other day, I might’ve been annoyed, but right now I could barely muster the will to stay on my feet.
I wanted nothing more than to drift away, back to that warm, silent darkness.
I was about to do just that when Laurie moved to stand beside Collith, his next words directed at me.
“One of the witches in my employ had news,” he said. His eyes gleamed with triumph. “Savannah confirmed it. Word in Hell is that the Dark Prince is dead.”
Damn, word traveled fast. “Guess it worked, then,” I said bleakly.
Collith frowned. “What do you mean?”
I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
I swallowed and looked at the time displayed on the microwave.
It was almost six. I hadn’t eaten all day, but the thought of food was so unappealing that it turned my mouth sour.
My gaze shifted toward the water dispenser in the refrigerator door.
Without a word to Collith and Laurie, I went to the cupboard where we kept our glasses.
I felt their eyes on me, cataloguing my every move as I took one down and walked over to the fridge. My motions were automatic. Slow.
Once the glass was full, I turned and took a long drink, thinking about how to tell them everything. I kept my gaze on the counter as I relived it all. God, there was so much. I decided to keep it as simple as possible.
“The Order has reformed,” I said finally.
“Apparently they summoned Savannah and Nym, and commanded them to bond the Dark Prince’s life to Oliver’s.
When I disappeared, Nym took us to Hell, back to the time I’d been there.
He didn’t tell me anything, and neither did Savannah.
Not about the Order, or the spell, or that it was Oliver they were bonding Lucifer to.
I’m guessing they needed me so I would distract Lucifer, or maybe because I knew the layout of the tower.
Either way, they did the spell, and last night … last night I killed Oliver.”
I laid it all out like bullet points, hoping that would make it easier.
But the second I uttered those final words, I felt my stomach lurch.
I made a choking sound and bolted for the stairwell.
I was outside, the barn blurred past, and then I was bending over the lawn.
Whatever was in my stomach hurtled up. Gentle hands held my hair back.
I was dimly aware that it was raining again as I gagged, the sour taste of vomit coating my mouth.
When I was able to stand up straight again, Collith and Laurie were there. Laurie held out a water bottle, but I didn’t reach for it.
“I confess, I didn’t really think you’d do it,” he said, lowering his arm. His expression was blank. Pleasant. Fae.
“He had to die.” My voice was still dull. “He killed Finn.”
Oliver had killed so many others, of course. My parents and all those people. But … he’d killed Finn. For that alone, he had to die, no matter how much I loved him.
Suddenly a laugh bubbled up inside me. It filled my chest and throat, high and hot, until I couldn’t contain it anymore.
It exploded from my body like a physical force.
I stood there with my head tipped back, arms hanging at my sides, laughing so hard that my sides ached.
Water pounded down from the sky, sliding between my eyes and beneath my clothing. I hardly felt it.
When I finally lowered my face, Collith was staring at me. His expression was pained and helpless. He didn’t ask me what was so funny, and slowly, my laughter faded. Thunder made the ground tremble.
Without really knowing why, I lowered myself to my knees.
The ground sloshed beneath me as I looked back to the sky, where it was nothing but darkness and the occasional flash of light.
Slowly, I lifted my arms. I could feel Oliver’s blood on them, and I willed the rain to wash it away, just as I’d washed him in the sea.
But I knew that even if it did, I would never feel clean again.
Gone. My best friend was gone. A vital part of me ripped out forever. Lightning flashed as I pictured Oliver’s freckles again.
I gathered air into my lungs and sent it back up as a scream.