Chapter 23

Rightly or wrongly, for the first time since our blood bond began, I couldn't answer Nova when she reached out to me. And I feel like a piece of shit.

Watching her and Mack head up to the rooftop with Snow, I felt like an even bigger piece of shit. Because I resented her for it.

I love her more than I've ever loved anything in my life, but dark, twisted resentment is forming an iron vice around my insides. Because there isn't enough time for him to have one last night with all of us.

And I haven't had enough. I haven't said enough.

Nova will make it count. She'll say all the things she needs to say to him. She'll comfort him, and they'll hold each other, and she'll have a memory to carry with her. But my memory will be of my own cowardice. My complete inability to tell him what he means to me. That he's more than a brother. More than a friend. More than family.

He's part of me. Part of us.

I look over at Tanner and Sam. Tanner is clutching his phone, waiting for news from Luther. Perhaps if Luther were here, things would feel different. But it all feels wrong. Too soon. Too disjointed. If we're losing him, it shouldn't be like this. We should all have the chance to say goodbye. We should get one last night together. All of us. Talking, and drinking, and laughing.

This shouldn't be the end of it all. Maybe it's not; maybe Mack will stay with us long enough for a proper goodbye.

I reach for the whiskey, then stop myself. Thornfield's office is down the hall. He has a decanter of blood, right there, on the sideboard. It's not hidden or locked away. It's just right there in the open.

I rise slowly from the chair and hold the door so it closes quietly behind me. There's no light in Thornfield's office. Sometimes, he stays here all night, but tonight maybe he's walking the halls of the museum.

Mack's death means nothing to Thornfield.

We mean nothing to him.

We're a curiosity. A blip on his timeline. He helped us when it benefited him to do so, and now he's done. The mystery has been solved, and he has his precious scepter back in his possession.

And all of his noise about wanting to destroy it seems to have completely quieted. Turns out, he only wanted to destroy it when there was a chance it would destroy him. Now, he's keeping it under lock and key, he's happy to see it survive.

I push the door open and head straight for the sideboard. I don't even hesitate, just pour the blood into a glass and inhale slowly. It's not fermented. Not FHB. But it is human, and I feel the veins at the sides of my eyes start to twitch.

Since we met, Nova is the only human I've tasted. Before her, I was clean for two years. If I drink, I have no idea what it means. All I know is that I have to. I need to. I need something to make the pain stop.

I am raising the glass to my lips, gums itching with the anticipation of feeling it coat my tongue, when a change in the vibration of the room makes me stop.

The ground beneath my feet trembles – imperceptible to anyone who isn't an earth mage. Footsteps. Not human.

Snow.

I put the glass down, hard, aware that droplets of blood slosh out onto the sideboard, and exit back into the hallway.

Ahead, Snow's huge, bulky figure moves slowly past the room where Tanner and Sam are sleeping. Toward… what?

Keeping a distance, I follow him. He doesn't look back, and if he knows I'm here shows no sign of it. When he reaches the door that leads down to Lucien's archive, he stops. Now, he does look at me.

He meets my eyes, and breathes out heavily through his nose. He blinks slowly.

"You want me to open the door?" I close the gap between us and put my hand on his shoulder. Snow leans into me a little.

A knot forms in my throat. Dread nestles into the spaces between my ribs.

But I open the door.

Clumsily, Snow manages to descend the stairs. I stay a couple of paces behind him until we reach the pitch-dark archive, then move beside him.

He doesn't move. Just breathes slowly in and out.

"You need a light?"

The huffing noise again.

I whisper an illumination spell, and Lucien's lights spring to life, casting eerie shadows around the room.

In the center, suspended in midair behind the forcefield we made, is the scepter. Back where it came from.

Snow fixes his eyes on it and walks slowly forward. When he reaches the forcefield, he presses his nose to it. Sparks of electricity make him jump and he shakes his head, groaning loudly. Then he turns to me. Still staring.

As I meet his eyes, my own go dark. A sharp, blinding pain grips my skull.

Please, let me in.

A voice that isn't a voice fills my entire body. I can hardly breathe. The pain has subsided, replaced with a heartbeat that isn't mine and a soul that seems to nestle into my body to sit beside my own.

Save Rhone. Let me in.

Snow blinks at me. A visceral, choked sob parts my lips. "Snow?"

He blinks again.

Save Rhone. Let me in.

I drop to my knees. I scrape my fingers through my hair and shake my head. I didn't even know this was possible. How is this possible?

Save Rhone. Let me in.

The voice grows louder. The power of it rattles through my bones. My entire body is shaking.

"Why?" I look up at him.

He doesn't answer me, just releases a long heavy breath, and shudders as if he is only just managing to keep himself from falling.

The voice is gone. The power is gone. The shaking subsides.

"All right." I drag myself to my feet. "I'll let you in, Snow."