“Gods do not grovel.”
“You want her back? Because I sure as hell do.”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Then, groveling.”
“Fine.” I rise, straightening my vest. “I suppose I should begin now. I can slip into her room through the mirror and—”
“No, don’t do that. Go knock on her door like a normal person.”
“Very well.” I hesitate. “Will you come with me?”
He smiles, warm green eyes meeting mine. “Sure.”
Carlotta’s party is long over by now, ended in chaos and tears. I have ruined a woman’s life, at least temporarily, and apparently I should feel remorseful about it. But though I try to summon regret, I cannot.
Raoul and I approach Christine’s door together. It appears shut, but when I knock, it swings open, as if it was hastily closed and the latch did not click properly.
“Christine?” Raoul calls.
When she doesn’t answer, Raoul pushes the door wider and steps inside.
Intimately acquainted with her room as I am, it takes me only a second to realize what has happened. Christine has packed up nearly all her possessions.
I thought this night could not get any worse. Obviously, I was wrong.
“She left,” Raoul says blankly.
My limbs feel strangely hollow, as does my heart. I walk into the room and sit weakly on the bed. “Of course she did. She does not wish to be with us.”
“Yeah, but I thought she’d come around to it. I didn’t think she’d go this far.” He plops down beside me, inhaling. “Goddamn it,” he whispers brokenly. “I can smell her everywhere.”
I place my bare hand on her pillow, my palm covering the indentation where her head usually rests. There’s a long, dark hair curled on the pale pillowcase.
Raoul bends over, elbows propped on his knees, head sunk in his hands. His coppery hair falls over his forehead and temples in bright waves. “I love her,” he whispers. “I can’t stand losing her again.”
Seeing him in pain hurts worse than the ache in my own heart. With a moment of lightning-sharp clarity, I realize that no goal of mine, no power I could ever achieve, no security or joy I could ever attain will mean anything if Raoul and Christine aren’t happy.
I’ve caused them so much harm already that I’m not sure I can repair it. But there’s one thing I never do, and that’s yield to my fate. Even when I was trapped for centuries, cursed and bound, I did not fade into oblivion like some of the other gods. I held on. I struggled. I fought to rise, and I came back.
“Perhaps I have done everything wrong since my resurrection,” I say. “Perhaps I’ve ruined any chance of Christine truly loving me. But I refuse to give up. I refuse to avoid the pain of trying to do better. If I have to sacrifice every shred of my remaining power, lie down at her feet, and yield my body to death, I will do it if the last sounds I hear on this earth are her words of forgiveness.”
Raoul glances over at me. “Now that was some beautiful poetry. Dark, yes…but beautiful.”
“We are going to follow her,” I tell him.
“How?” He shakes his head, despondent. “We have no idea where she’ll go.”
“Your wolf’s nose is sensitive, and the driver’s side window of Christine’s car does not close all the way,” I tell him.
His eyes fill with a hopeful light. “I can track her by scent.”
I nod, a smile tugging the corner of my mouth beneath my mask. “We can track her.”
“Is it right to do that, though, if she wants to get away from us?” he asks doubtfully.
“Perhaps not. But both of us want the chance to speak to her again—me to apologize, you to persuade her. After that, if she wants to go her own way, we will not disturb her again.”
