Life Eternal by Yvonne Woon

enough.
    “But it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Why didn’t they just disappear? You became human when you took my soul. And then you gave it back to me, becoming Undead. Doesn’t that mean that you should start fresh again, and have another twenty-one years?”
    Dante shook his head. “All I know is that I was never fully alive even after you gave me your soul. And you—”
    “I’m not, either,” I said, my voice cracking. “But I don’t understand. Why?”
    “We were underground when you gave me your soul; we were both already buried, which made the transfer incomplete.”
    “Which means what?” I asked, but he didn’t reply. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I pleaded. “Just because we have the same soul doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in your head. I’m not inside you. You have to tell me.”
    Dante let out a sad laugh. “That’s just it, though. I think you are.”
    “What?”
    He closed his fingers around my hand, holding my fist in his. It fit perfectly. “I think a part of your soul is in me now.”
    I shrank back and raised my hand to my face, my fingers grazing my cheek as if I were touching a stranger. I had spent the entire summer trying not to think about my symptoms, as the doctors called them. The small changes I had been noticing in myself. The fact that I barely had an appetite and couldn’t sleep like I used to. That I couldn’t smell cooked food until it was right in front of me. That I felt severed in some way, as if a piece of me were missing. Could he be right? Is that why my senses were dulled; why nothing had meaning or beauty until I was around Dante?
    “But we still saved each other,” I said in awe. “I have one of your marks now, which means that you have one extra year to live. Can’t we just keep exchanging souls?”
    Dante suddenly looked angry. “And you have one less. Are you suggesting that we kill each other every year?”
    I swallowed. When he put it that way, it did sound a little extreme.
    “Can you even fathom what that could do to us? What kind of existence that would be? Even after dying once, you’ve changed more than you know. I can see it your face, the way you stand, the way you speak.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, sitting upright. “Do you think I look old ?”
    He shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice softer. “You’re surreal.” He ran his hand down the pale side of my wrist, feeling my pulse. “I took your life. And now a piece of your soul is gone. It’s in me now. You’re a little more Undead, and I’m a little more alive.”
    The sun set behind the cathedral, mottling the light around us as though the sky were a stained-glass window. Pulling my knees to my chest, I looked up at him, watching the shadows move across his face as he leaned on the gravestone. “Why is that so bad if it keeps you alive?” I asked quietly.
    “Because if we keep exchanging souls, it will only get worse. You’ll become more Undead. You’ll become wasted and miserable like the rest of us, and then we’ll both die.”
    “But you’ll live longer. We’ll have more time together,” I pleaded, unable to understand why he didn’t agree with me.
    “At what cost? Neither of us will be fully human. No one has ever done this before. Anything could happen. We could both die the next time we kiss.”
    “But what else can we do?” Angry tears blurred my vision, and I turned away from him. “You can’t die. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    “We’ll be okay,” Dante said, running his hand down my leg. My skin trembled beneath his touch. “We’ll keep looking. We’ll find a solution.”
    When I didn’t say anything, he took my hand and held it to his chest. “Listen to me,” he said. “I won’t lose you. I’ll find a way.”
    I nodded, wanting to believe him. Curling up beside him on the grass, I listened to the birds flit through the trees toward the cathedral beyond, its rose windows