We ride through the center of town, passing the same red-brick homes and businesses I remember from when Leodin and I left. It’s hard to believe that was only a month ago. It feels like a lifetime. At first glance, everything appears to be as it should. Signs telling customers to “Come On In” hang in store windows. Fruit stands and food carts line the sidewalks ready to serve. Restaurant tables sit under awnings, teacups and plates and utensils set out as ifwhoever ordered it just stepped away for a moment. But the shops are empty, and the fruit is rotten. There are no diners to eat or waiters to serve or chefs to cook. There is only the silent, empty shell of a once bustling city.
At the end of the road, I see the fence that wraps around the perimeter of the dom. The lawn that greeted all our patients, though a little overgrown, remains very much alive with only a few patches of brown that portend of the winter to come. In the center of it all stands the charred husk of my home, like a black hole in an otherwise pristine canvas. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine the acrid scent is just a remnant of campfire smoke clinging to my clothes and hair, but when the icy wind whips my face, it brings with it the cloying sweet smell of decaying flesh.
I think I’m going to vomit.
A wave of dizziness sends me crashing to my knees in the grass.
“Katya.” Aemon drops to the ground next to me and begins rubbing small circles on my back. “Are you alright? Of course not. That’s a stupid question.” It is a stupid question, but I’m too focused on not losing my breakfast right now to care. “I can do it,” he says. “Let me go in. You shouldn’t have to see this.”
It’s a kind offer, but… I shake my head. “You don’t know what they look like.”
“Fuck.”
I give him a weak smile. “Just help me up, please.”
He does as I ask and helps me to my feet, then tugs his shirtsleeve over his hand and uses it to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. I’ve hardly stopped crying since I learned of this yesterday, but these tears feel strangely empty, compulsory rather than cathartic. Still, I can’t seem to make them stop.
Aemon takes my hand, and together we approach what’s left of Dom Duje. The front doors are gone, and the entrance caved in, so the second floor is now where the first floor used to be. There’s no way we’re getting in this way, so we walk around until we come to a section that isn’t as badly damaged as the rest. A window here is open, which I hope means whoever was down here got out.
“Give me a boost,” I ask Aemon.
He grabs me by the waist and lifts me over the windowsill like I weigh nothing. I crash down—not too delicately—on a settee, sending up a cloud of ash. The air is thick and fetid, the scent of smoke and death overwhelming. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow hard to keep it down. I cover my mouth with my sleeve, but it does little to filter the stench. It’s too much. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this. How am I supposed to do this? Did I really expect myself to scour the remains of my home, searching for the decaying bodies of my family?
I’m so incredibly stupid.
Aemon crashes onto the settee behind me, raising more ash. “Holy fuck,” he shouts, covering his nose and mouth as he gets to his feet.
Holy fuck is right. There is nothing about this place that resembles my home. The walls, columns, furniture and floors are black and broken, their original colors nearly impossible to determine. In places where the ceiling has fallen in, beams of daylight illuminate the wreckage, while ashes dance in the air above, giving it the appearance of something otherworldly and surreal, almost beautiful. At least until I spot an arm poking out of a pile of debris.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aemon asks me.
No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to be in here another second. “Yes,” I lie. “There’s something I need to see.” That’s the truth.
We pick our way through the rubble, and I do my best not to look too closely at anything resembling a body—especially the small ones. My head is spinning. I can’t stop shaking. Did Max die like this? Terrified, his little lungs fighting for air, flames melting the skin from his body? It must have hurt so much. He was just a little boy. Tears blur my vision, and I trip over something—I don’t want to know what. Aemon grabs me from behind, but my legs don’t want to cooperate, and I end up just sagging in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Katya,” he says, kissing my temple. “I’m so sorry.”
Somehow, I manage to get my legs to work again, and I continue, this time with Aemon’s hand cradling my elbow, just in case I need it. Finally, we make it to my mother’s bedroom. The door is somehow still standing and attached to its hinges. I twist the knob and push, and amazingly, the door swings open. The dresser still stands against the wall, just the way it was when I saw my mother last, except now it’s charred and covered in ash like everything else. A chunk of ceiling has fallen down on the bed, but it doesn’t appear that anyone was in it—thank the gods. I wave for Aemon to follow me inside.
“Help me push this,” I tell him, gesturing toward the dresser. He doesn’t wait for me, simply crosses to the dresser and pushes it all the way until it hits the adjoining wall.
“Like that.” He smiles.
I give him a much less convincing one in return. Then I crouch down and brush my hand along the floorboards, searching the ashes for the little hole my mother showed me. My heart is poundingout a rapid staccato. If the box is empty, that means she got out. If it isn’t… I just don’t know.
I lift the floorboard and reach my arm inside the opening, searching. My hand brushes metal, and I pull the box out of its hiding place.
“What’s that?” Aemon asks, crouching down beside me.
“My mother kept this for emergencies.” I open the lid, and my heart sinks when I see the wad of bills neatly folded on top.
“If she had to leave in a hurry, she may not have taken it with her,” Aemon says, reading my mind.
“I know,” I say, my voice trembling as badly as the rest of my body. “Can I have a minute?”
“Sure.” He steps outside to leave me alone with my mother’s things.
I finger the stack of bills. Leodin monitored every dime she made. She would have had to sneak little bits at a time to get it past him. It must have taken years for her to save so much. I wonder what she was saving for. Leaving Leodin? I didn’t think to ask before, and now I’ll probably never know. Just like I’ll never know if she’d been lying to me all these years about who my father was and if he really was Khalmos. I pull out the bills and hold them up to see better. Was the stack bigger before? Maybe. Then again, I could be fooling myself. I set the money on my lap and search the rest. There are a few loose gems and a couple of bracelets. I could have sworn there was a necklace. I’m certain I remember it—well, pretty sure. At least, I think I remember it.
