His face twists with pain and disbelief. “But he can’t protect you the way I can—”
I stick my chin in the air, refusing to give. “That’s something Weldon understands that you have yet to. He doesn’t have to protect me at all, Jaxen.”
There. I’ve said it. I’ve said it, and I feel like a bug beneath his shoe under his gaze. I don’t feel as resolved as I expected from telling him the truth.
He leaves without another word. Without a struggle. A part of me wonders if I’m pushing him away because I don’t stop him. Don’t grab his hand to tell him everything is okay. I grip my own hands to keep myself steady. Dig my fingernails into my palms to remind myself I’m still here.
Don’t open my mind up so he’s with me, even if not in the physical sense.
After the door closes, Mack asks us to sit. Takes his time waiting to tell us whatever it is he knows that we don’t.
“Spit it out, brother,” Weldon says.
“In the information I uncovered about Mourdyn through Cecilia’s diary, we also learned more about the Exanimator. Theories on how it works and how it can be destroyed. The machine was not something Mourdyn was forthcoming about with the rest of the Divine.”
“Yes… Seamus figured that out before the attack on the manor. And?” Weldon says.
“And… with his information, we have developed our own theories about what will happen to Faye the moment she merges with the Exanimator. There were plans found for the machine in Mourdyn’s records. Through them, we were able to create a replica. Now, it isn’t the actual machine, because the machine itself runs off Mourdyn’s power, but it will be helpful in learning how to merge with it when the time comes.”
I swallow my fear. Dispose of the fight-or-flight feeling continuously nagging at the back of my mind.
“This is something I want only you two doing. Something the rest do not need to be dragged in on because of its sensitive nature.”
It’s in his voice, what he’s really trying to say. It sounds like a car running me over. Like fire consuming me from the inside out.
Like death.
“I have to die, don’t I?”
I already knew this. I don’t know how but, somewhere deep inside me, from the moment I touched the culling stone, I knew it would come to this. Knew it would be my end that would end the war. Because I now know why I was seen as a threat from the beginning. I set everything in motion when I touched that stone. I brought this Coven to its knees, and I have to be the one to fix it.
Mack doesn’t have to say anything. It’s written in Seamus’ small, almost unperceivable frown. In the shadows lingering around Mack’s eyes. I feel like I’ve been thrust into another universe where hope never existed.
“You can’t be serious!” Weldon says, his voice coated in shock and rejection. He looks to me. To Seamus. Back to Mack. “No,” he says, as if the solitary word could put a stop to the inevitable.
Mack’s eyes harden. Go back to the same unfeeling, calculating leader he’s become. That he had to become to keep us all afloat.
Feelings have no place in the world we now live in.
“We’re doing everything we possibly can to find an alternative,” Seamus says, as if this makes it better. As if this could be a truth.
“It isn’t set in stone—it’s just a theory,” Mack quickly adds. “It’s just… everything we’ve learned thus far points to this outcome, and we’d rather you be prepared than not, should it be what needs to happen. I told you, I will not hold the truth from you.”
Weldon reaches for my hand, and I cling to the strength he squeezes into it. “We’ll find another way. Don’t listen to them. This isn’t how it’s going to end,” he says, and I believe him.
I just don’t know how to respond. What to say, think, or feel. I feel too hot all of a sudden. Too everything. I don’t know how to process it. Don’t know how to keep the world from spinning, thrusting us forward in time against my will, so I can’t take the moment I deserve to absorb this.
“No one can know,” Mack says with such finality. Weldon snorts, throwing his hands up in the air, but it does nothing to deter Mack from continuing my death sentence. “You know the rest will do everything they can to prevent this. You know Jaxen will not let you do this, but you can’t let him stop you. This is the only way, Faye.”
He pushes the book from earlier closer to me. Cecilia’s diary. I immediately sober up. Feel every breath in my lungs as if it were my last.
I only have to glance to see the words—The Everlasting must die—to know my time of denial has run its course, and I think I might have a heart attack.
“I understand,” I say, inhaling for courage. For anything that will get me through this moment when life takes a knife to my throat and slices.
“You’ll have our full support, Faye,” Seamus says, as if this will make dying easier.
“Thank you.” I stand. Hear the blood pounding in my ears. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a… I need a moment.”
“Faye,” I hear Weldon call, but I don’t turn back to him, because what can he say? What can any of them say?
This is going to happen. It’s going to happen because I won’t let Clara, or Bael, or anyone else take another person I love from me. I’ll do what has to be done to end the Darkyn Coven and the Underground.
So I turn and walk out the door.
Walk away from the future I never had.
ONE TIME I RODE WITH my nanny to middle school because I missed the bus and my parents hadn’t made it home from their hunt yet. I remember feeling glad I didn’t have to ride the bus and deal with the awful driving of the driver or the kids whose only purpose in life was to bully others.
And I remember the car sliding to a stop on the icy roads. Remember my nanny throwing her arm across my chest as we slid sideways into a parked van. I can still hear the bloodied screams ripping from her throat, and my heart pumping adrenaline through my veins as the glass shattered on all sides of the car and rained down on us like a hailstorm. Still hear the clicking of the steaming engine as it shut off and my nanny’s trembling, tearstained voice telling me everything was going to be okay.
That’s what this feels like—knowing my death is imminent. Like truth ramming into me from all sides.
I don’t remember leaving Mack and Seamus. Don’t remember where my mind went or where my legs carry me, but the moment I wake from the realization of my death, I find myself standing outside my father’s apartment with the picture of my parents clutched in my hands. I draw on it as my father said, finding strength in knowing that death is not the end.
My mother died. Willingly. If she could do it, so can I.
I knock once and step back, waiting for something. Anything that will erase this numbness from my mind. That will take this exhaustion chewing away at my muscles and squash it.
The door swings open, and my father’s face splits into a smile that bathes me in warmth. Like stepping out into a sunny day. Like standing next to a fire. He opens his arms, and I make my way into them, letting him hold me together as I fall apart on the inside. I have to die. To save him. To save Jaxen, Weldon, and everyone else who has come to take a piece of my heart during my short time in this Coven.
“What is it, Faye?” he asks, his head resting against mine. I smell the oils he uses to sharpen his fluxes on his hands, and it makes my heart hurt. “You heart’s hammering at my chest.”
I know I’m not breathing. Not keeping myself as together as Seamus and Mack instructed me to.
“I just… it’s nothing,” I say, stepping out of his hug. Pulling in a deep breath. “It’s been a really long morning, and I just wanted to come by and see you like I promised I would.”
His smile touches the moon. “Well, I’m glad you came by, kiddo. I was just about to head out for some target practice before I meet with Seamus and Mack later tonight. It’s uh… it’s been a while, you know?”
A shiver of grief rushes down my spine as I think of all he
’s been through. All he’s lost as well. His abilities. His home. His career.
His wife.
“I just figured it would get my mind in the right frame. Throwing has always helped me sort things out.”
“You’re meeting with them?” My voice sounds different. More broken than before.
“Yeah.” He reaches for his jacket. “They want to get me in with some of General Sterling’s men so I can learn how to work around not having my powers.” Her memory forms in his eyes, but I don’t look away when he adds, “I want to be able to fight when the time comes.”
For a moment, I feel like his little girl again. Feel myself wanting to bask in his strength and be just like him. He’s always been good at pulling himself together and being the rock everyone needs, and a part of me sort of understands why my mom wanted it to be her and not him. She wanted me to have this… him… when everything fell apart.
“Can I join you? For target practice, I mean?”
His smile spreads slowly across his face, understanding flourishing in his eyes. “Of course you can.” He pulls the door shut behind him. “It will be just like old times. You and me, only this time, you’ll probably out-throw your old dad with all the practice you’ve had.”
We both know this isn’t true, but hearing him say it temporarily eases the ache of missing her.
By the time we make it to the target dummies, I begin to question why I’m here. Why I have to wait so long to die. I feel death around the corner, like a shadow stalking me. I think he senses something because he talks lightly with me, avoiding the subject of my mother and the Coven as we take turns throwing fluxes at the targets.
A half hour passes like this. I slip into an easy, numb state where nothing matters except hitting my target.
Until he asks me, “Something is going to happen, isn’t it?”
My flux lands on the grass beside the dummy.
“You can’t hide it from me, Faye. No matter how much you want to—a parent knows. They told you what you were meant to do, didn’t they?”
“I’ve known for a while, Dad. I have to destroy the Exanimator. It’s simple. Nothing to worry about.”
“Then why is you mother coming to me in my sleep, telling me to hold you while I can?”
The sad understanding in his tone nearly breaks me in half.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Nerves, maybe? I get nightmares too.”
He doesn’t believe me.
“Faye—”
I spin on him. “Dad, please. I told you. Everything is fine.”
He stares at me for a moment, debating.
I glance at my watch as soon as I feel the mark on my arm heat up. “I have to go. I need to meet up with Jaxen. He had to leave the meeting I had earlier, and if I don’t go to him, he’ll continue to worry. We’re supposed to take a run with his sister.”
“Okay,” my father says, not pushing me any further.
I turn, and then pause. Turn back to face him with his flux in my hand. “Here,” I say, handing it to him. “You should take this back. It belongs with you.”
He smiles sadly, and then closes my hand around it, pushing it back to me. “No,” he says, turning to pick up the daggers off the ground. “Keep it. It always brought me good luck.”
I swallow thickly. “Thank you.”
I’m so tired. So drained from this day and all it has brought. I just want to take the Belladonna Evangeline gave me and find a bed so I can hopefully see my mother once again. Find Jaxen’s arms.
Find some sort of reason to keep me from finding Meredith and kick starting it all.
AFTER LEAVING MY DAD’S PLACE, I meet Jaxen outside the front door of Evangeline’s apartment. My heart lives inside my throat as I make my way toward his still form. I try to come up with things to say, things that will remedy what happened back in the war tactics room, but nothing comes to mind.
He’s as calm as the eye of a hurricane. I know the winds are ripping inside him. Know the calm is only momentary. But all I can do is wait for the storm to pass.
Relief is my friend when Chrissa immediately opens the door, having smelled us, chomping at the bit to go for a run. “Hey, guys!” she says, bouncing on her toes. “You ready?”
Jaxen’s face melts with a smile when she jumps into his arms. I notice him squeezing her more than usual, taking in the extra love she’s offering, and I have to swallow hard.
“I was born ready. You?”
“Absolutely!”
Evangeline appears in the doorway. “I want you to stay close to them, Chrissa. It’s dangerous out there.”
Chrissa rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m not five.”
“No, you’re twelve, and that hardly counts for being able to stand up to those who would be willing to do you harm.”
“We won’t be taking her deep into the city if it makes you feel any better,” Jaxen says. “I was just going to take her around where we normally jog.”
She looks down at Chrissa, at her earnest, giddy smile, and then sighs. “All right, but be back within an hour. Dinner will be ready. And come hungry.” She’s looking at both of us now.
We say our goodbyes and find ourselves running at a leisurely pace once outside. Chrissa takes the lead after Jaxen points out our path, and her giddy laughter fills the air, washing over our souls.
I almost forget about death.
Death has no place around children. It doesn’t fit within their laughter and smiles. It doesn’t belong when she’s looking over her shoulder at Jaxen and me, with a thrill in her eyes and the wind blowing wildly through her hair. Not when Jaxen’s shoulders ease up just enough to show me he’s relaxed. He’s let go, even for a moment, of everything that has happened.
And I want to thank her for taking our minds off it, even if only briefly.
By the time our hour is up, we’re already making our way down the hallway. We sit through dinner with the rest of the pack, listening in on their plans of heading back into the forest once the war is over.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have any plans after the war. Nothing but darkness.
We walk home in a silence so loud I want to scream. We take separate showers for the first time in a long time, and I find myself curled into a ball in the corner of the shower, wishing I could cry until the water runs cold.
Jaxen’s on the edge of the bed with nothing but a pair of gunmetal gray sweatpants on, an empty glass in his hand, and a half-empty bottle resting by his feet.
He looks so tortured. Looks at me as if he wishes he were seeing someone else. Someone less distant and broken. It feels like ice is eating away at my bones. Like fire is scorching every one of my nerves.
“How did your meeting go?” His strangled words slur a little.
“Okay, I guess.”
I make my way over to him, but everything feels so unfamiliar and shaky—like walking into another plane of time. Like stepping on a spider web and finding myself caught as the truth makes its way across, ready to spin me and drain my blood.
He makes a haphazard gesture for me to sit next to him. “That good?”
“It was fine,” I lie, taking the empty glass from his hand. I grab the bottle by his feet, pour myself a shot, and toss it back, reveling in the fiery burn running down my throat that washes away the awful taste the Belladonna I took a few minutes ago left behind.
“So, this is what we’ve become then?”
I hate the desolation in his voice. There’s a desert between us without a hope for either one of us crossing it.
“What’s that?” I ask a little tersely, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and downing another shot. I’m trying to pretend I don’t know where this is headed. That I don’t see and hear the heartache ripping our guts out right now, because I need to pretend. I need to fake that everything is okay. Need him to believe I’m fine because the moment I don’t… the moment he looks at me, knowing I’ll die and seeing that death reflected in his gaze, then it will all be over.
Everything.
He tries to clear his throat, but the sound is painful. Like he’s swallowing tears. “I don’t know. Strangers? Two lovers who lie to one another? Who hide things from each other? Who can’t turn to each other whenever something bad is happening?”
I don’t recognize this Jaxen. This raw ache in his voice that scratches at the door of my heart, waiting for me to open it. I find myself missing the old him. The one who had his emotions under control. Who could take this pain and survive in it.
I set the glass down. Brace my hands on my knees as the alcohol sends my brain spinning. “I love you, Jaxen. More than I could ever explain to you.”
He laughs like he might be losing his mind. “Yet, here we are, our entire future splitting off from each other.” The cynicism in his voice is as thick as tar, and it’s choking my ability to think. To make sense of what I should and shouldn’t say.
I need a breath of fresh air. Need a new body to hide in. One where I’m safe from his prodding. Safe from myself.
“Jaxen, what am I supposed to do?”
“Stop shutting me out.” His chest heaves, heart throbbing in his neck.
I find a shadow across the room. Feel my regret slip down my cheek.
“I can’t even feel your mind anymore. It’s like you’re… you’re purposefully pulling away from me. Like you’re a ghost haunting me.” His eyes are flashing with anger now. He’s two steps from falling off the edge. From losing it all. I want to tell him everything. Want to tell him about my impending death, and that it’s easier this way because he’s going to lose me, only, not because of his curse.
Because of my curse.
“There are things, Jaxen. Things we knew would happen one way or another,” I say, and I find myself surprised by how calm I sound when my heart rattles at the cage of my bones to be free from my irrevocable torture.
“Things,” he retorts, spitting out the word with heavy distaste. “No, Faye. Things are that dresser or this pillow. Things are not the secrets Mack, Weldon, and Seamus has asked you to keep from me. Things are not the way you’ve been handling everything lately. That’s called shutting down. That’s called knowing about something that’s going to happen… that’s going to affect both of us, and you deciding not to tell me.”