Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

Zinnia

The last two days had been brutal.

I shoved my hand under my pillow and stared out the window. Clouds had gathered throughout the day, and the darkness of the night sky was almost oppressive.

Else wasn't eating, was barely drinking; she'd given up. She was ready to go, but Mags especially was having trouble accepting it. She'd been poring over the healing volumes in the library. Aunt Daisy was constantly baking and cooking, deep in denial, and the rest of us were just trying to squeeze in whatever time we had left with Else, one of the most amazing, stubborn, brilliant, loving females we'd ever met.

I was feeling so many things—guilt, sadness, and, yeah, confusion. I missed Death. Admitting that to myself hadn't been easy. Allowing myself to admit that I had feelings for a god who had a room full of things, treasured possessions from his previous, deceased consorts, felt like a kind of self-harm. What kind of idiot falls for a male who couldn't promise them anything at all, not even life?

What kind of idiot contemplated going back to that?

How could I do it knowing my family was already suffering, knowing they were about to lose Else? Considering leaving, with the possibly of never making it back, was selfish.

Letting myself fall in love with Death was so goddamn selfish.

I clung to my pillow tighter and let my eyes drift closed. I needed him, was desperate to see him, and sleep was the only way, even if it was painful. My lids grew heavy almost immediately; it'd been a long day. I sank into it and invited the darkness in.

The ground was cold, damp against my bare feet, and I shivered. The skull path stretched ahead of me, leading to the castle. Whispers, cries, and screams echoed through the forest. It was dark, and the feeling of dread that surrounded me had me gasping for breath.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing the dress, the black dress Nox had made me wear, the one Death had torn off me. Lifting the skirts, I ran as fast as I could. I rounded the bend, and the castle loomed ahead. A single candle was glowing in a window on the upper level. Death's room.

I ran up the castle stairs and pushed open the entrance doors. Silence greeted me. A stillness filled the massive stone building as if it had been submerged, as if it now sat at the bottom of the Night Sea.

"Mors!" I called his name as I stepped inside.

The floor was cracked by big, jagged fissures that went from one side to the other. Shards of shattered glass and broken furniture littered the ground. No one walked out—no Egon, no Lyle. They were gone; everyone was gone.

Gathering up my dress again, I rushed up the stairs and down the hall to Death's bedroom door. It was closed. I didn't know if the heavy wood was keeping everyone out or keeping him in because I felt a dark energy through it. Dark and filled with fury. I pressed my hand to it. "Mors?"

Nothing, not a sound came from inside.

Hand shaking, I turned the handle and pushed open the door.

I searched the dark room, but I couldn't see him—until my gaze slid to the bed. A shadowy figure lay there, unmoving. "Mors?" Nothing. I stepped closer. "It's me." I reached down and touched his shoulder. "Mors?"

He spun to face me with a feral snarl.

"I'm here," I whispered.

One moment, he was on the bed; the next, he was in front of me, looming over me, backing me up. Light flared, the fire on the other side of the room igniting. He was in his cloak, the hood obscuring half of his face. "You didn't come," he growled. "I waited and you didn't come."

I opened my mouth, but it slammed shut. I tried, but I couldn't open it; I couldn't speak.

Death shook his head. "No more lies from those lips, consort. No more."

My gaze slid over him. His shoulders heaved with his fury. His cloak hung open, revealing a strip of his naked body beneath. His chest and stomach were tight, his cock impossibly hard. I pressed my hand to his chest, over the intricate stars tattooed there, and pleaded with my eyes for him to understand.

He gathered up the front of my dress. "If you won't stay with me, I'll have you here in your dreams. I'll own you here, little witch," he snarled.

I wanted to tell him he could have me. That no matter where I was, I was his and he was mine, but he wouldn't let me speak, too lost in his rage to see, to see me. I let him hook his arm around my waist and pin me to the wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hung on tight when he tore my underwear from my body.

"I hate you," he said roughly, "for doing this to me." He nipped my earlobe. "Why did you do this to me?" His voice was a desperate plea. He swung my leg around his hip, and I lifted the other one, hanging on. "Why?" he growled and slammed inside me.

I tried to cry out, but no sound came; all I could do was hold on as he took me, pouring all his pain and rage into me.

"You break me and break me, and I let you." He made a sobbing, gasping sound. "I let you destroy me." He fucked me harder, fisting my hair and tilting my head back. "I won't do this again." He shook his head. "I won't do it."

He thrust into me over and over, nipping, sucking on my skin, my mouth, while he made sounds like a wounded animal, while he fed me his hate and anger and lust and gave me no choice but to take it, not letting me give him anything at all.

I wrapped my arms around him tighter, hanging on, clawing at his back. The darkness surrounded us, and his face shifted, transforming as the shadows gathered, turning him into the God of Death, my god. He slammed into me until there was no holding it back, and I tried, I tried so hard, because I had an awful feeling that when this ended, nothing would be the same again.

He sank his teeth into the side of my throat, and I screamed silently, still unable to make a sound, coming hard around him. My body jarred against the wall, and he thrust into me two more times and came as well, grinding into me until we were both spent.

Finally, he lifted his head, looking down at me, his face nothing but a skull, the blue of his eyes gone, obscured by shadow. "No more," he rasped, and then he stepped back.

My body stayed suspended against the wall, and Death lifted his hands.

"No more," he roared like a wounded beast, then jerked his hands to the side.

My world spun—

I slammed against the mattress, waking with a cry.

I gripped my stomach, my chest, my head. I felt as if I were being torn apart. Tears soaked my cheeks, and I realized my pain wasn't physical. No, what I was feeling was my heart breaking. Everything was a mess; something was happening to Death. That wasn't a dream; it was real, what had happened between us. He was in pain, and I'd caused it.

Someone knocked on my door. "Zinny, it's Else. Quickly, get dressed."

* * *

We were all in Else's small room. Not everyone that loved her was here—it would be impossible to fit them all in this house—but the people who knew her best, who had been lucky enough to know what it was to be loved, really loved, by her, cared for by her, and fiercely protected by her, were gathered in this room.

The small space was overflowing with so many emotions; there was sadness, of course, but mostly there was love.

Magnolia held one of Else's hands, and Daisy, the other. Stan looked at me, his gaze sliding between me and Jasmine, and he smiled. " Thank you ," he said.

We'd been the only people he'd been able to communicate with for so very long, and now he and Else would finally be together again.

I took Jasmine's hand, and we walked forward. I crouched beside the bed, and Jazzy kept hold of my hand. "You know we love you, Else. So much. You were there for us when our own mother couldn't be, so when I tell you this, you have to promise not to be mad at us… or Stanley."

Else took a ragged breath. "Spill."

I brushed my hand over the back of hers, so frail now when she'd always been such strength for us, for all of us. "He made us promise not to tell you, but he's been here, right here, by your side since he died. He's been a friend to me and to Jazzy, a confidant, and an example of what true love looks like, because, goddess… he loves you, so very much. It's so big, Else, so beautiful. He's standing right there"—I motioned to where he stood just in front of us—"and he's been standing there, at your side, for over fifty years. Laughing at your jokes, making eyes at you as if the sun and the moon rose and fell with you, and waiting. Waiting until you could finally be together again."

Jaz came down beside me and gently touched her soft hair. "You have nothing to fear, Else. Not one thing. Stanley will be there to greet you with open arms. You'll be together forever."

A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. "He's… there?" She looked to the spot beside her.

I nodded.

Another tear slid down her face. "I thought… I-I t-thought he'd gone… but then I felt him. I-I've been…"

Her breathing became more labored, and Jaz and I stepped back to make room for our cousins. Mags climbed onto the bed beside her. Everyone surrounded her. Daisy started the chant, and then, one by one, we all joined in. We were saying words of love, of faith, calling on the mother to usher her safely into the arms of her loved ones. As the words overlapped, they became more a melody than a chant—a song so sweet and so filled with warmth, Else smiled, her gaze moving around the room to everyone here.

Stan stepped forward. "See you on the flip side," he said to me and Jazzy, and then he held out his hand to Else.