accept that they’re the Reaper Kings and that maybe it’s not such a good idea to let them go?
I didn’t like that thought. At all.
Grant sat on the edge of the bed, cane resting across his thighs.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know you’d like for them to be here. I believe . . . I believe Zee genuinely thinks that it’s dangerous for them to remain in a place where there’s sunlight.”
“Okay.”
“Maxine.”
“I need to be alone,” I said to him.
He raised his brow at me. “That’s the last thing you want. But you’re hurting so bad, you can’t lick your wounds with anyone watching.”
My breath caught. Grant held my gaze, and I knew it was all just one naked parade of my thoughts and emotions. Everything I was, all my bits and pieces, laid bare in whatever light surrounded me. Grant could read it like a book, just as he read everyone. And, like the priest he’d been, he treated all that light like a confession.
So I confessed.
“I feel like part of me died,” I told him. “I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I’d lose them. Not like this.”
Grant looked down, jaw tight. I half expected him to reassure me that they weren’t really gone, that everything would be all right . . . but his silence was long, and heavy. I settled back against the wall. Unable to cross the distance between us.
“Nothing of you died,” he said. “Wounded, maybe. Ripped. I can see parts of your soul, bleeding. Zee and the boys . . . they’re bleeding, too. All of you, in the same spots.” His hands flexed around his cane, so tight, with such strain, I thought he might break it in half. “I could heal that part of you. But I won’t.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” I pushed away from the wall to go to him and sat as close as I could, slipping my arm around his, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I understand.”
He cleared his throat. “I know you’re not afraid of me for what I did to you today . . . the way I took your concern for the boys, and erased it. But I’m afraid. I slipped, and all it took was a second. I’m not . . . used to controlling my voice around you. I’m sorry.”
I smiled against his arm. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
He flinched, giving me a stunned look—which relaxed, only a fraction, when he saw that I was teasing him.
“Not funny,” he said.
“I love that you reacted with horror.”
Grant made a grumbling sound. “You’re going to be fine, Maxine. Wounds heal. I’m here. We have this.” He placed his hand over my heart. “And you’re too stubborn to give up.”
“I notice you don’t include the boys in that statement.”
“You saw what happened with Blood Mama. And Mary.”
Again, I thought about the crystal skull. “And you saw what happened inside me.”
“That . . . thing,” he murmured. “Yes, I saw. I felt its hunger.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Grant took my right hand, twining our fingers: metal, against his flesh. “But you need to be careful of the boys, Maxine. You need to listen to Zee when he tells you that they might change. Because I saw it, out in the desert. They fed on Blood Mama’s pain. They’ve never done that before.”
I looked away and closed my eyes. “I have to believe in them.”
“Well,” he said, softly. “If it helps, they believe in you. And so do I.”
Mary appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, holding the crystal skull under her arm. I didn’t look too hard at that carved face, with its sharp teeth and huge eye sockets. In fact, I didn’t like looking at the skull, period. It gave me the same strange feeling as a mirror: I wasn’t certain what was looking back.
“Know who this is,” she said, with a hint of pride. “Finally recognized the face.”
Grant and I stared at her.
“Er,” I said, wondering just how far in the past Mary had lived, before the Labyrinth had spat her out into modern-day earth. “Who is it?”
Mary lifted her chin,
I didn’t like that thought. At all.
Grant sat on the edge of the bed, cane resting across his thighs.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know you’d like for them to be here. I believe . . . I believe Zee genuinely thinks that it’s dangerous for them to remain in a place where there’s sunlight.”
“Okay.”
“Maxine.”
“I need to be alone,” I said to him.
He raised his brow at me. “That’s the last thing you want. But you’re hurting so bad, you can’t lick your wounds with anyone watching.”
My breath caught. Grant held my gaze, and I knew it was all just one naked parade of my thoughts and emotions. Everything I was, all my bits and pieces, laid bare in whatever light surrounded me. Grant could read it like a book, just as he read everyone. And, like the priest he’d been, he treated all that light like a confession.
So I confessed.
“I feel like part of me died,” I told him. “I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I’d lose them. Not like this.”
Grant looked down, jaw tight. I half expected him to reassure me that they weren’t really gone, that everything would be all right . . . but his silence was long, and heavy. I settled back against the wall. Unable to cross the distance between us.
“Nothing of you died,” he said. “Wounded, maybe. Ripped. I can see parts of your soul, bleeding. Zee and the boys . . . they’re bleeding, too. All of you, in the same spots.” His hands flexed around his cane, so tight, with such strain, I thought he might break it in half. “I could heal that part of you. But I won’t.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” I pushed away from the wall to go to him and sat as close as I could, slipping my arm around his, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I understand.”
He cleared his throat. “I know you’re not afraid of me for what I did to you today . . . the way I took your concern for the boys, and erased it. But I’m afraid. I slipped, and all it took was a second. I’m not . . . used to controlling my voice around you. I’m sorry.”
I smiled against his arm. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
He flinched, giving me a stunned look—which relaxed, only a fraction, when he saw that I was teasing him.
“Not funny,” he said.
“I love that you reacted with horror.”
Grant made a grumbling sound. “You’re going to be fine, Maxine. Wounds heal. I’m here. We have this.” He placed his hand over my heart. “And you’re too stubborn to give up.”
“I notice you don’t include the boys in that statement.”
“You saw what happened with Blood Mama. And Mary.”
Again, I thought about the crystal skull. “And you saw what happened inside me.”
“That . . . thing,” he murmured. “Yes, I saw. I felt its hunger.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Grant took my right hand, twining our fingers: metal, against his flesh. “But you need to be careful of the boys, Maxine. You need to listen to Zee when he tells you that they might change. Because I saw it, out in the desert. They fed on Blood Mama’s pain. They’ve never done that before.”
I looked away and closed my eyes. “I have to believe in them.”
“Well,” he said, softly. “If it helps, they believe in you. And so do I.”
Mary appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, holding the crystal skull under her arm. I didn’t look too hard at that carved face, with its sharp teeth and huge eye sockets. In fact, I didn’t like looking at the skull, period. It gave me the same strange feeling as a mirror: I wasn’t certain what was looking back.
“Know who this is,” she said, with a hint of pride. “Finally recognized the face.”
Grant and I stared at her.
“Er,” I said, wondering just how far in the past Mary had lived, before the Labyrinth had spat her out into modern-day earth. “Who is it?”
Mary lifted her chin,
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