Ana nodded. “I remember the dealer giving me earmuffs to go over the noise-canceling earphones,” she said. “I remember the dead deer skeletons stalking us, and how no matter how many times he told us to remain even breathed, I couldn’t stop my heart from skipping when those great shadows flew overhead.”
“Vultures,” Jay muttered. “Somehow they’re larger in that place.” He looked up and met her eyes. “How many bodies did you see?”
“Three,” Ana answered. “I actually thought I would see more.”
Jay’s eyes had hazed over. “I saw seventeen,” he said. “No creatures, however. But the voices were hard not to follow.”
Ana stared at the coffee table, remembering how those voices had spoken to her, pleaded for her. ‘Walk with us,’ they had beckoned. ‘It’s safe here,’ another had said. Once, she’d sworn she heard her father’s voice, had sworn she saw him far off in the distance.
But it was just another trick of the border.
Ana sighed against the couch after placing the rest of her food on the table. “Slow day downstairs?” she asked, eager to change the subject as she knew if she didn’t, she’d be dreaming of those voices later.
“This heavy rain certainly detours the walk-ins,” he said. He looked over at her and gave her a small smile as he glanced her over. “I think I’ll go home. No one is coming out today, especially with the news. You should take a bath and have a long nap,” he continued as he stood. He leaned over and gave her a smacking kiss on her head before heading to the door.
“See you tomorrow, love,” he said. “And Ana?”
“Yeah?”
“Try to rest,” he said. “Dwelling over this won’t help anything. You’ve done what you could.”
Something about that sentence made her ears perk, but even as she went to sit up, the door closed behind him, and she was left staring at the back of it, the noise of it clicking shut sounding over and over in her ears.
You’re paranoid, Deianira, she told herself.
She sank herself into the couch, changed the channel on the television to a serial killer documentary, and tried to close her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SAM STARED AT General Prei of Firemoor as the man walked back and forth atop a long bridge overlooking the Spine’s capital. He stared at the burns on the man’s face, his arm, his hands. Something struck the pit of his stomach. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. It had always been like that. Ever since Firemoor began publicizing their ‘cleansing’ and proclaiming what they were doing as saving the world from deviants. But now that their king was dead and Prei had taken over the military, he seemed taller. More confident.
And it bothered the fuck out of Samarius.
He remember Prei once being a cowardly thing, but maybe that was because he was so new, and because the Firemoor king had been such a controlling asshat. It was like something had snapped within him after Deianira had ripped their king of his heart, and Prei had decided the world needed more correction than what Firemoor had envisioned.
It was too familiar to King Atrion’s plans. So much so that it made Sam’s stomach twist and churn.
And the only thing he could think of to get his mind off of it was to text Ana.
Even a white rose has a black shadow, he chose to text.
Luna was lying across the keyboard purring when his phone buzzed back.
I love white roses, she said.They feel more dangerous. Like their innocence is hiding beneath that pure exterior.
He thought of his garden then, the rows and rows of white roses, and he nearly suggested showing it to her.
How was your morning?he chose instead.
Not the best,she admitted.Are you able to turn away from the disaster happening right now?Ana had typed.
Sam sighed, but replied,Not at all. It’s tragic.
Is your king doing anything?Ana asked.I haven’t seen any response yet.
Sam stared at the phone and then back at the television. Millie hadn’t put out any statement yet because there wasn’t one to be made. He hadn’t responded to Deianira’s attacks except to assure people they were safe.
Another lie.
