though fumbling, took her hand in his. “I’m already healing,” he told her. “It will simply take time. I’ll be fine.”
Scarlett, not known for her restraint, clearly bit back a comment, her mouth half-opening to spit it out before easing shut. She glared at me for a while, though, not willing to let it go. “How they’d get the sword, Frank?”
Rahim swooped in again in an effort to save me some grief, but I waved him off.
“They killed Karra and took it,” I said, fighting not to choke on each and every word.
The hard expression on her face shattered like broken glass. She gave Katon’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and flying across the room to wrap me in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Frank,” she said, clinging to me as though she never intended to let me go.
Regardless what she thought of Karra—I think she actually liked her, surprisingly enough—and even more so what she thought of me, Scarlett was blood; family in a way no one else could be. We hated each other, loved each other, tolerated each other, and did all we could to avoid each other on a regular basis, but at the end of the day both of us would move Heaven and Earth for the other. She clung to me, her tears warming my neck. For all my devilish inheritance, she cared; she understood what Karra had meant to me.
I stood holding her as she whispered apologies and quiet words of sympathy. She trembled in my arms, all raw emotion and heart, feeling sorry for my loss like the true angel she was. I held her and did what any self-respecting man in my position would do in a moment like that.
I bawled like a little baby.
There was no holding it back. Soon it was her who was propping me up, keeping me from collapsing. Every time I thought I’d run dry I plumbed a new well of sorrow. California would ransom Hollywood to have as much rain as I was spewing tears. They just kept coming until I was a shaking, wretched mess.
At some point she’d led me to the chair beside Katon, and I hadn’t even realized it. I snapped to with his hand on my shoulder and Scarlett hunched over my back, doing her best to lend me her strength. Where her fingers clasped, white outlines on my skin told of her fierceness. She wasn’t gonna let me go until I was okay. Neither was Katon. For that matter, no one there would.
Rahim and Rachelle stood arm in arm in front of me. Rachelle’s cheeks were rosy, streaked with silver trails. She saw me looking at her and forced a smile I knew she didn’t feel. We’d come a long way since Abraham’s death, and that brought even more tears to my eyes. I hadn’t been there for her while she’d been suffering it. No, I’d been too worried about being the cause of his death that I stayed away, that I hadn’t shown her how much I cared like she was doing for me.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her, to all of them; to no one. Life had changed for all of us. There’d been so much loss and pain since the leashes on Heaven and Hell had been severed. Not that life was ever a weekend at Disneyland, mind you, but the two sides had kept things in relative balance. Humanity was still a pile of stinking shit on occasion, but they could be managed, held in check. There was no reining in the supernaturals now, at least not without a fight that would eventually result in us losing someone else. That’s how it’d been the last fifty years. Death had reared its ugly head for the rest of us not labeled as human, and the changing reality was as easily for us to swallow as a poop sandwich. We’d become the shock troopers in a war we never wanted, and all we’d lost was only the beginning. There would be so much more suffering before it was over.
“The baby?” Scarlett asked as if realizing where my mind was headed.
“She’s fine,” Rachelle answered. “She’s here and has several of our people looking after her.
“And she has Chatterbox,” I said, wiping my face on my sleeve.
“That’s a relief.” Scarlett chuckled.
Scarlett, not known for her restraint, clearly bit back a comment, her mouth half-opening to spit it out before easing shut. She glared at me for a while, though, not willing to let it go. “How they’d get the sword, Frank?”
Rahim swooped in again in an effort to save me some grief, but I waved him off.
“They killed Karra and took it,” I said, fighting not to choke on each and every word.
The hard expression on her face shattered like broken glass. She gave Katon’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and flying across the room to wrap me in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Frank,” she said, clinging to me as though she never intended to let me go.
Regardless what she thought of Karra—I think she actually liked her, surprisingly enough—and even more so what she thought of me, Scarlett was blood; family in a way no one else could be. We hated each other, loved each other, tolerated each other, and did all we could to avoid each other on a regular basis, but at the end of the day both of us would move Heaven and Earth for the other. She clung to me, her tears warming my neck. For all my devilish inheritance, she cared; she understood what Karra had meant to me.
I stood holding her as she whispered apologies and quiet words of sympathy. She trembled in my arms, all raw emotion and heart, feeling sorry for my loss like the true angel she was. I held her and did what any self-respecting man in my position would do in a moment like that.
I bawled like a little baby.
There was no holding it back. Soon it was her who was propping me up, keeping me from collapsing. Every time I thought I’d run dry I plumbed a new well of sorrow. California would ransom Hollywood to have as much rain as I was spewing tears. They just kept coming until I was a shaking, wretched mess.
At some point she’d led me to the chair beside Katon, and I hadn’t even realized it. I snapped to with his hand on my shoulder and Scarlett hunched over my back, doing her best to lend me her strength. Where her fingers clasped, white outlines on my skin told of her fierceness. She wasn’t gonna let me go until I was okay. Neither was Katon. For that matter, no one there would.
Rahim and Rachelle stood arm in arm in front of me. Rachelle’s cheeks were rosy, streaked with silver trails. She saw me looking at her and forced a smile I knew she didn’t feel. We’d come a long way since Abraham’s death, and that brought even more tears to my eyes. I hadn’t been there for her while she’d been suffering it. No, I’d been too worried about being the cause of his death that I stayed away, that I hadn’t shown her how much I cared like she was doing for me.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her, to all of them; to no one. Life had changed for all of us. There’d been so much loss and pain since the leashes on Heaven and Hell had been severed. Not that life was ever a weekend at Disneyland, mind you, but the two sides had kept things in relative balance. Humanity was still a pile of stinking shit on occasion, but they could be managed, held in check. There was no reining in the supernaturals now, at least not without a fight that would eventually result in us losing someone else. That’s how it’d been the last fifty years. Death had reared its ugly head for the rest of us not labeled as human, and the changing reality was as easily for us to swallow as a poop sandwich. We’d become the shock troopers in a war we never wanted, and all we’d lost was only the beginning. There would be so much more suffering before it was over.
“The baby?” Scarlett asked as if realizing where my mind was headed.
“She’s fine,” Rachelle answered. “She’s here and has several of our people looking after her.
“And she has Chatterbox,” I said, wiping my face on my sleeve.
“That’s a relief.” Scarlett chuckled.
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