“Come with me, Adrian,” Darius said, and a hand—his hand—rested on my shoulder exactly where he’d placed it a thousand times before.
I fought the urge to reach for him, to turn to him.
“It’s not real,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You’re not real.”
My mother was outside. So were Maurice and Warren. Dahlia and Cyrus were engaged in their own Trial. Cosmo and Myrine were settled way above us in their cozy, luxurious estate. I hadn’t seen Orson and Dionne since the day I’d told them of their son’s disappearance, but it seemed just as unlikely that they were here as it was for the others.
But Darius…
“Haven’t you missed me, Adrian?”
His voice lifted the way it always did when he smiled, and my heart ached. I wanted nothing more than to see him again, to laugh with him and joke with him, to drink the Finnegans’ terrible whiskey and dance with Graham and Sophie, to spend a Sunday afternoon curled up on the couch, talking for hours.
“I’ve missed you.” He spoke so close to me, his breath tickled the tendrils of hair at the nape of my neck. I dragged in a rasping breath. “It could be like it was again, Adrian. We could be like we were.”
Dante,I tried desperately.
No reply.
“Please, Adrian, just come to me and we can walk out of here together.”
Dante.
Why wasn’t he answering? Was he dealing with a ghost of his own?
“Adrian, please—”
Finally, I heard it again. The buzzing whine. Better disguised than the others, smaller somehow, more faint, but still there. Almost mechanical.
Listen for the ringing,I told Dante, though it was also to remind myself as well.They aren’t real, remember? Listen for the whine.
“Adrian.” Dante. He spoke louder, clearer than any of the other voices, pulling me out of my reverie. For a moment, I thought I was hearing him in my mind. Then he called for me again. “Adrian, I’m here. Can you hear me? Can you follow my voice?”
No buzzing. No whine. Just Dante calling out to me.
I turned to face the direction I’d heard him calling me from. His voice was like a tether to reality, pulling me out of my sorrow. The others had all faded away.
“I hear you,” I called back, my voice shaking. “I’m coming. Don’t stop talking.”
“This way. Come this way, Adrian. I’m here. I’m right here.”
I took a step in his direction, but the other voices rose again as a cacophony of misery, and Darius, once the softest, was the loudest of them all.
“Don’t leave us, Adrian.” My mother.
“Don’t abandon me again.” Dahlia.
“You aren’t better than us.” Maurice and Warren.
“It’s a fool’s errand, girl.” Cosmo.
“He was better. He would have done better.” Orson and Dionne.
I moved through the din, cheeks wet but focused on Dante’s voice, soft and soothing, more comforting than I’d ever heard it before. I clung to it, using him as my anchor, seeking him in the storm while everyone I’d ever loved reached forward in the darkness, gripping pieces of my soul and attempting to shred it apart.
“Here, Adrian,” he cried out, clearly experiencing the same assault. I could hear the strain in his voice, the utter pain, but still he called for me. “I’m just over here.”
“I’m coming.”
