The Bones of Valhalla (Purge of Babylon, Book 9) by Sam Sisavath Page B

tidal wave.
    Gaby pushed through the overwhelming uncertainty (What are you doing down here? Are you crazy?) and the fear, and stood her ground. Her legs weren’t shaking nearly as much as she expected, but she hadn’t moved any closer toward it, either.
    Him. It’s a him, not an it.
    It’s Will.
    Mostly…
    “Will,” she said, his name coming out softly, as if she were afraid to say it too loudly.
    There was no answer, and the shadowy form in the corner continued to watch her back in silence. For a moment she wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken his name, that maybe it was all a figment of her imagination. Maybe she was actually back in the infirmary, sleeping off another round of meds-induced haze—
    “Frank,” it said, the word coming out as a soft hiss, as if it was doing everything possible to hide it.
    “Frank?” she repeated.
    “Will’s dead,” it hissed. “He’s been dead for a while now.”
    “Danny says you’re Will…”
    “I was…”
    “But not anymore.”
    “No.”
    “Then what are you?”
    It—no, not it , but he —didn’t answer right away. Maybe he was thinking about the answer, or maybe he just didn’t feel like talking. It was hard to tell, because she could barely make out the tight contours of his face or the smooth dome of his head. The only thing she could be sure of were the eyes, like twin solar flares in a galaxy devoid of life, focusing in on her.
    “Do you know who I am?” she asked. “Danny says your memories come and go.”
    “Gaby,” he said.
    Her heart leapt in her throat and the smile came out unexpectedly. “You remember me.”
    “Yes…”
    “Are you…okay?”
    Something along his face moved. Did he just… smile?
    “Yes,” he said (hissed). “I’m healing.”
    “Will you be okay?”
    “Yes…”
    Gaby looked down at the dried puddles of blood that covered the floor. The chest they had stuffed him in before leaving Gallant was riddled with bullet holes, pieces of the lock and clamps scattered across the room.
    She looked up and tried to see him through the shadows. “I’m sorry.”
    He didn’t respond. Maybe he didn’t know why she was apologizing (Did she know?) or maybe it was something else entirely. And maybe she didn’t know what she was doing down here after all.
    It’s Will. You don’t have to be afraid.
    It’s Will.
    “We left you back there,” Gaby continued. “In Louisiana. We should have gone back for you.”
    “You…had no choice,” he said. “That was the plan.”
    “It was a stupid plan.”
    “Maybe…”
    “We shouldn’t have left you. We should have gone back for you.”
    “There were too many…”
    “We should have risked it.”
    “No.”
    She shook her head. “We should have tried, instead of just leaving you out there by yourself. All this time, we’ve wondered what had happened to you. What your last moments were like…” It was suddenly very cold in the room and she wrapped her arms across her chest, ignoring the stab of pain from her left shoulder. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry for abandoning you.”
    He didn’t say anything, but if she thought he was ignoring her, the glowing blue eyes that hadn’t left her face since she set foot into the cabin said otherwise. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say or how to respond to her all-too-human confession. Was that it? Was he beyond (human) things like that now? Maybe this wasn’t the Will she remembered after all—
    “I forgive you,” he said finally.
    She started to cry. It was stupid and girly, and she despised herself for it, but the first tear sneaked its way down her cheek and it was quickly followed by another, then another. At least she could say she never went full Gaby 1.0 and bawled her eyes out in front of him, in this dark room covered in blood and death. If she was going to cry, at least they were silent tears.
    “Gaby,” he said.
    She looked up at him, the tears coming faster now.
    “You saved her,” he said, his eyes never