“You’re nervous,” Ben said as he casually unfurled their supplies.
Sikras stood on his tiptoes, peering into the darkness. “It’d be strange if I wasn’t, don’t you think? I, uh ... I must tend to something. If I don’t, I’ll be up all night. Pardon me for a moment, won’t you both?”
A sudden cool breeze made Helspira wrap her arms around her torso. “Where are you going? It’s almost pitch black. Even with the moon, it’ll be difficult to see.”
“Nowhere. I’ll be fine, I just ...” Sikras grimaced, fidgeting. “I’m just going to resurrect a few sentries. I’ll sleep better knowing we have extra eyes around our perimeter. I won’t be gone more than ten minutes.”
“Sentries?” Helspira slid her hands to her hips. “You only just started feeling better from your last spell. Are you sure they’re necessary?”
He either didn’t hear her question or willfully ignored it, instead placing a hand on Ben’s bony shoulder. “Can we consider forgoing the fire tonight? I know it’s cold, but it doesn’t seem in our best interest having a giant beacon pointing to our location after pissing off a wizard.”
Ben drove the tent stakes into the softened ground. “I’m telling you; he’ll never realize you put a poltergeist in his cat. From what it sounds like, their personalities were very similar.”
“Right. Probably. You make a lot of sense.”
“And yet,” Ben said, “you’re still walking away, moments from resurrecting sentries.”
“I’ll be back in ten,” came Sikras’s distancing voice.
Ben nodded. “We’ll be right where you left us.”
Helspira’s eardrums pulsed as Sikras broke into a jog. Impressive, she thought. With how dark it was, it would be a miracle if he didn’t run into a tree. She faced Ben after Sikras’s footsteps had evaded her sensitive hearing. “I’ve never seen him that worked up before. Usually, he’s so ... unconcerned—even regarding things that require large amounts of concern.”
Ben shrugged as he tested the integrity of the ropes he had tightened. “Sikras is a good actor. I think he even believes his own lies sometimes. No matter how convincing his performances are though, I know one thing for sure; he will always be terrified at the thought of losing those he cares about. In case I wasn’t a dead giveaway, the guy has a hard time letting go.”
A rush of wind hit Helspira’s face as Ben whooshed the cotton canvas over the pole. She stepped backward to give him space, more intrigued than ever at how he saw in the dark without eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, freshly filed claws digging into her palms. “I can’t imagine how scared he must be to lose you again.”
“And you.”
“Me?” The statement turned her guilt into curiosity. “We barely know one another.”
“Maybe. But he went into Enos for you to talk to Frank, and he hates it there. He thinks I don’t know, but he and Death have a ... a complicated relationship. Sikras prefers to avoid her at all costs.”
Helspira chortled. “Why? Because he took her scythe?”
“Because”—Ben completed his task by sweeping the small bits of dirt from the stretched canvas—“she’s not afraid to tell him that he’s being selfish by keeping me alive. And, at the end of the day, he knows she’s right.”
A sadness lingered in his disembodied voice. Helspira tightened her shoulders and stepped closer. “Doyouthink Sikras is selfish for keeping you alive?”
Silence. Hesitation. Finally, Ben spoke. “I don’t think he means to be. You know, after I died, after he brought me back”—he stiffened, visibly uncomfortable—“I had to watch my own body decompose.”
Her eyes widened. It made sense; of course, he had to decompose at some point. But in the time she had known Ben, she never considered the horrid transition from living being and fleshless corpse. “That sounds awful.”
“It was. I holed up in my room for days. Skin rotting. Pieces falling off. Trying not to vomit from the stench, until I lost my sense of smell.” Ben went ramrod straight, hands on hips. “I still remember it. Sikras came to my room. Knocked on the door. He looked half as fucked as I did, hair all gray, eye sockets sunk in. Sustaining me, losing Imri, losing Vessik too, in a sense—it took a lot out of him. But all he cared about was how I was doing. If I was okay.”
Helspira crept closer. “And? Were you okay?Areyou okay?”
“Hels, we’re friends, right?”
She tried to ease the tension with a smile. “Abominations for life. And beyond.”
Ben nodded. “I miss a lot of things. The taste of roasted chicken. The warmth of the sun on my skin. The smell of my favorite incense. The kind touch of a woman. The way your muscles ache after a session of hard swordplay, the way your body feels after a deep sleep—the list goes on. I miss living. Right now, I’m just existing.”
The confession squeezed her heart, a wave of sadness engulfing her. “Have you ever told Sikras this?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I had my chance the night he came to my room shortly after everything happened. He was trying to lift my spirits and offered to play my lute. I couldn’t do it, because the strings sloughed my skin off. Mind you, Sikras can’t play an instrument to save his life, so it wasawful.In jest, I’d told him I wished my hearing had decomposed with the rest of me.” Ben shrugged. “He’d offered to put me in a suspended coma until the decomposition process was over. I told him that I’d rather die than leave him in the mansion without company. He’d never admit it, but he’s terrified to be alone.”
Sensing Ben wished to unburden himself further, Helspira said nothing.
