It won’t be long now before this curse of mine takes me away from her again. My guess is a week or two, or maybe days. Whatever Sachar has in mind for my afterlife sentence in theBeyond, it will be nothing in comparison to being ripped away from my obsession again.
Unless…
My darling reaps souls now. Perhaps she would not reap mine. Perhaps she would instead allow me to haunt her until the end.
Come back. Stop hiding from me when you’re in pain,Maven’s frustrated voice pleads through the bond.
If only she would ask me for anything else. I’d steal each and every one of the fucking stars from the night sky for her, if it would make up for my past actions catching up to us.
I’ll be fine, darling,I insist, sitting up in Limbo to spit more blood out of my mouth.
Liar.
I’m searching for a way to put her mind at ease when Crane frowns in the mortal world, his distorted image glancing down at the very spot where I sit. He’s almost looking me in the eye.
Hang on. Can he see me? Is this some result of his previously being inside my head?
“I almost feel as if Crypt is…” he trails off.
“Oh, thank fuck—I thoughtIwas crazy this time,” Frost huffs, gesturing at the exact place I sit. “You feel like he’s there, right?”
Decimus nods, his hand sweeping around the vicinity where my head is. “Yeah, here-ish. Sitting.”
Gods above.
Does this mean the rest of them can sense me in Limbo now? Perhaps this is a result of our stronger bonding this time around. What a fucking nightmare—not to mention, it spoils all the fun of dropping out of Limbo to scare those three bastards.
As I stand and fight to regain the last of my breath so I can step back into the mortal world and reassure Maven, Lillian looks at the spot Decimus gestured to.
“Is he okay?”
“It’s his curse,” Decimus explains quietly.
“I thought those were broken,” she frowns, brushing a windblown strand of curly pale hair back behind her ear.
“Yeah, but Crypt’s curse is different because it’s actually more like a?—”
Fucking gods, is that lizard seriously about to just spill everything he knows about my curseagain?Stepping out of Limbo, I elbow the blabbermouth hard in the gut so he shuts up and remembers that even if his curse is gone, mine deserves some privacy.
“Asshole,” he grumbles, rubbing his stomach.
“Loudmouth.” I glance at Maven, immediately transfixed by her dark gaze as something in my chest melts. “See? I’m fine enough, love.”
Her expression is utterly blank as she observes me, and then she turns to stride toward the cultists’ section of the encampment.
“We’ll catch up with you later,” she calls over her shoulder to Lillian, who will not be venturing with us into the cultist area.
Maven knows you’re not fine,Crane warns telepathically, pinning me in his ruby stare.You know how much she’s already struggling with it. Lying to her for false comfort won’t help.
Piss off,I shoot back, irritated as I fall into step behind the muse who owns every facet of my being.
If all I can give her is false comfort right now, then I’ll give it all the same.
As soon as our quintet draws nearer to the black-tent section of the encampment, there’s a clear difference in how we’re received. Where the Nether humans and Reformists cheered, clapped, and looked on in excited, curious fascination, these black-clad cultists stop what they’re doing and bow deeply tomy keeper. They appear to all be legacies, and though many are older, a few of them can’t be older than Decimus.
It’s almost noon, Frost points out telepathically.Where is their psychotic leader so we can stop his sacrifice?
We turn into a new area of their encampment and pause, taking in the view. Another giant wooden stake has been constructed here. Surrounding it are more cultists who are assembling a feast of some kind—one heavily dependent on smoked meat skewers, by the looks of things. Animal carcasses are strung up to bleed out, and several other cultists are painting canvases with scenes of death and graveyards using the animal blood.
