I thought through his story, the iteration he told year after year. He always said it the same way. I had it memorized word for word, practically tattooed on the back of my mind.
“ ‘Give the babe to me,’ the Dreaded End said,”I recited aloud, nearly shouting at him,“ ‘and she will never know want or hunger. Let me godfather her and she will live lifetimes, learning the secrets and mysteries of the universe. She’ll be a brilliant healer, the most powerful in the land, with the power to hold back sickness, disease, and even me with her hands.’ ”
Merrick stopped walking and I knew I was on the right path. But what was I meant to ask?
“Lifetimes,” I called out with sudden triumph. “You told them lifetimes. I always thought I’d just live a long life, but now, after seeing this…” I gulped, terror staking my middle. “Merrick, how many candles do I have?”
He remained still, his back to me. I was overwhelmed by the sudden and irrational fear that when he finally turned, it wouldn’t be Merrick’s face I’d see, but something else. Something sinister and profane. Not a human, not a god, but the terrible darkness that had been at the start of the caves. That ancient, evil void.
With the utmost care, I placed the rescued candles on other tables, far from Kieron’s.
I swallowed the vision and placed a shaky hand on Merrick’s shoulder. He turned, and when I spotted the familiar lines of his face, I released my breath.
“How many?”
“Three.” His eyes shifted away, as if he was ashamed. “While your mother was pregnant, I had three candles dipped for you. Solid, strong tapers that would last many decades. I used the finest beeswax, the sweetest lavender for scent.”
Three candles.
Three lives.
It was bewildering, too horrifying to wrap my mind around.
I would live out three lifetimes, long and full.
And alone.
I looked at the cavern of candles, every one of them a solitary taper. Each person was granted just one life. Except me. Every candle I saw now would be snuffed out and melt before my final one would. No person here now would be with me at the end of my life.
I felt numb with shock. It was too big a thought to take in. I’d go through life meeting people, making friends and connections, andnone of them would matter in the long run. None of them would grow old with me. None of them would last.
Not my family. Not Kieron. Not anyone I’d meet in the future, twenty years from now, sixty, a hundred.
I wanted to throw up, wanted to give in to the rising terror that clouded my vision and sent tremors through my body. Instead, I met Merrick’s mournful gaze and took a deep breath.
“Show me?”
He bowed his head and wandered down a path of flames. We turned along another lane, then another. Reaching the outskirts of the tapers, he stopped at a dark granite plinth.
A single candle, placed with care and encircled by a delicate silver wreath of flowers, burned brightly. At its base rested two identical tapers, unlit but ready to be called upon when needed.
They were so very, very tall.
I looked back at the thousands of other candles covering tables and stands. They were all so far away, a huddled mass of humanity that I would never be a part of. “I’m all by myself.”
His bony fingers reached out toward the light with a tender affection before pointing to the god’s flame above us. “You’re withme.”
I studied the slate-colored fire. Even Merrick’s flame seemed to be in shadow. “That’s you?”
He nodded. “I wanted…I wanted to always be able to watch over you.” His back teeth clicked together, and he considered his next words with care. “Do you see now? I know this moment with the boy feels important to you, but in the whole of your life…this is just a brief breath. Oh, my darling Hazel. You’ll go on and do more things. Bigger things. Without him. Let him die. Before he can hurt anyone.”
“He would never!” I exclaimed. “I know Kieron. He’d never hurt anyone.”
“He hurt you already,” he pointed out, gently picking up my hand and examining the ring of bruises winding round my wrist.
“That doesn’t…He didn’t…he didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t know what he was doing. I fixed him.You sawI fixed him.”
“I saw you stopped the swelling,” Merrick allowed. “But there was damage done. Too much damage that you could not right.”
