Vincent
Ireturned to find myself in Lucian’s medical ward. You were lying beside me, but not conscious. Not yet. Orcus was there to assure me that your soul had made the journey back from the under realms intact, and it was only your body that still needed mending. I stayed by your side in case you woke. Lucian made regular visits, checking your vitals and the various equipment that nourished and repaired you. I bathed your skin and washed your hair and dropped kisses to your temple and chest. Papa visited as well, and we both prayed over your swift recovery.
Also convalescing under Lucian’s watchful eye was his beloved. Stefan, who was high maintenance when well, was a complete diva when injured, and Lucian doted on him endlessly. It was nauseating but also sweet, especially for a demon. When I brought up the topic of Mater’s resurrection, Lucian and I both agreed she could stand to chill on ice for a lifetime or so. It made sense not only for our fledgling peace but also for the harmony of our personal lives.
Our revolution had succeeded. Azrael was no longer a threat to the earthen realm. Aretha had battled her brother and won both the respect of their father and the allegiance of their tribe. The Tribal Council wanted to meet and discuss a treaty between the thirteen tribes, and I wanted that too, but you were my first priority.
“Why won’t he wake up?” I said to Lucian on the seventh day of waiting, after he’d told me your body had repaired itself and a scan of your brain showed normal activity.
“I don’t know,” Lucian said, perplexed. “This isn’t something I’ve dealt with—soul trades and traversing realms. It’s taxing to one’s spirit, I’d presume. Perhaps you could find him in dreams.”
Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?
I climbed into your bed and laid my head against your chest. I arranged your arms so that they encircled me. I fell asleep breathing in your scent and listening to your steady heartbeat.
I found you on your islands, staring over the cliff’s edge into the water below, which was a murky gray and obscured by mist. The weather was stormy with foreboding cloud formations blocking out the sky and lightning in the distance. Sunshine and blue skies would have encouraged me. This did not.
“Henri?” I reached for you and pulled you back from the ledge. “What’s going on? Why are you delaying?”
You swallowed and ran a hand through your long hair where it shifted in the wind, a tell that spoke to your uncertainty, a trait that seldom made itself known.
“I’ve been wondering…” Your gaze drifted over me, then avoided me altogether. “I’ve been wondering if you might be better off without me.”
If we were in the earthen realm and your state-of-being weren’t so fragile, I’d surely attempt to shake some sense into you.
“That’s not for you to decide. I made a deal with Bastet. I’m your master now, so those thoughts are irrelevant, because it’s no longer your choice. I’ve claimed you. I own your body, mind, and soul, and by lingering here, you’re cheating me of what’s rightfully mine.”
You eyed me suspiciously, but you couldn’t argue my logic.
“What did you give her in return?”
“My immortality.”
“Vincent,” you said sharply.
“She agreed to be the caretaker of our souls and rebirth us together for an eternity. See? I made it so that you’ll never be rid of me.”
You stared at me, doubtful. “What if you outgrow me? Or tire of me?”
“You once told me that souls try and find each other in their future lives. They go seeking their beloved and feel a great spiritual angst when they can’t. You’ll find me, or I’ll find you, and we’ll get to know each other again, strangers at first but probably not for long, since I’m so charming and you’re so hot.”
You smiled softly. The clouds behind you parted, and a ray of light peeked through. My complicated, tormented soul. How could I possibly tire of you? Every time I thought I had a handle on your mood, you threw me another curveball. “Come with me now, Henri,” I said, gently but firmly. “What was it you told me in the mine? Something about me being the sirens and the tempest and the rocks that bloody the sailors? It was very romantic, as I recall.”
“I will follow you anywhere,” you said solemnly.
“Then follow me home.”
I held out my hand, and your large, calloused fingers, scarred by battle but gentle enough to offer me a loving caress, closed around my own.
