So Sam decided to see exactly what The Tower thought of all this.
If you were him, what would you do?he asked.
Those three dots strummed for a minute. Long enough that he lounged back in the chair and kicked his feet up, and Luna crawled in his lap.
I think there are a lot of dying souls looking for a few more years, and possibly a chance at revenge, she typed.I think I would give it to them. If your king has the balls to walk across his border.
Sam almost laughed at the last bit.
All the people in those territories that have been bombed and persecuted… should they not want revenge on the kings that took their lives simply because they are not in Death’s direct line of sight?she asked.
I thought that’s what the people loved Deianira Bronfell for, Sam typed.She was their vengeance.
A lot has happened since she took down those kings. The Spine was a growing nation after her hit. Now they’ve been attacked. If I were them, I’d want that revenge. No matter what it cost me.
Sam stared at the phone for a long minute, scratching the top of Luna’s head. He contemplated it. Her words. Millie’s words. Rolfe’s. And he thought of all the things that could go wrong if he did do this. Images of all those he’d turned during the last war filled him. He remembered each of them. Remembered every voice that had begged for him and leapt on that second chance.
Come over for dinner?Ana asked, breaking him from his daze.
He wanted to. He could have used the distraction, and something about even simply sitting with her sounded relaxing. But Millie was coming over with more reports since she’d talked to Damien, and he knew he couldn’t risk putting her off just to go have dinner with the person he was supposed to be breaking.
Can’t tonight,he finally typed back.Saturday, baby. I’ll be so ready for you, I may not be able to hold myself back. Especially after this week.
Poor thing. Maybe I’ll send you something to hold you over until then, she said.
Please, and he nearly begged her further for the distraction, the comfort.
I’ll see what I can manage.
The winky face she sent along with it almost made him smile. He picked up a stress ball from the jar on his desk and began squeezing it, and turned his attention back to the television.
“Hey, Rolfe?” Sam said into the room.
The deathhound was asleep in that form, curled up in the corner of the study. Sam had taken a photo of him earlier and sent it to Millie, but hadn’t received any response. The hound huffed, but didn’t wake, so Sam threw a shoe at him.
Rolfe flinched, but shook it off and transformed into his other self. “Sorry, boss,” he muttered. “What’s it?”
“How do you feel about helping me clear the cathedral?” Sam asked, and Rolfe’s eyes narrowed at him.
“Why?”
Sam didn’t reply. He was already dialing Millie’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Yes, my King?” she snapped.
“Can you come help me and Rolfe clean up the cathedral?”
“Is this an order or a favor?” she asked.
Sam hated her being mad at him. He squeezed the stress ball so tightly in his hand that the thing shredded between his fingers.
“Tell Damien and his legion to take any persons at their final edge to our border and into the forest,” he said. “I’ll call their souls to the cathedral here. After that, the others are to come home. But I will only do this if he brings them over the border.”
“And the vultures hunting in the shadows of the forest?” she asked.
“I’ll take that chance,” he said. “The worst that could happen is a few go back to their bodies with only one eye.”
Millie didn’t speak for a moment, and when the moment grew long enough to make Sam shift in his seat, he opened his mouth to speak, but Millie cut him off.
