“I don’t know. I think . . . yes.”
The wind didn’t know if that was true. It thought, if he did remember, after a while, he would make himself forget. No one wanted to remember heaven when they were confined to hell.
The lucky one closed her eyes and leaned closer, the long ends of her hair brushing over the trickster’s cheeks, falling to his chest.
He sighed. “If this is it for us—if you don’t want to watch it happen—I understand. It’s all right if you want to remember this and nothing after.”
She opened her eyes and asked in a soft, questioning voice, “You’ll understand?”
The wind moaned as the trickster’s expression broke. It shattered like glass. Was she telling him goodbye? He swallowed, and his voice was thick as he said, “I understand.”
He went to stand, perhaps to leave. The lucky one’s face turned bright, angry red. She violently shoved him. The wind shrieked as the trickster slammed back to the couch.
“Shove your understanding, Luvic Bard.”
A low, drumming rattle vibrated in the trickster’s throat. Immediately, the noise cut off, then, “Dang it, Cora. I’m sorry?—"
“And shove your sorry!” The lucky one leaned close, her nose nearly pressed to his. “Understand this. You aren’t becoming a jackaltooth. I won’t allow it.”
A smile curled over the trickster’s mouth.
“Stop smiling. Listen closely. I’m luck. I was born in a fountain from wishes and dreams come true. Do you think I’ll let the man I love become a monster? I swear it, the only way you’ll become a jackaltooth is if all your luck runs out, and the only way that will happen is if I’m dead. So understand this. I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I love you, you idiot.”
The trickster wrapped his arms around her hips as if he wanted to pull her closer but at the same time push her away. “Cora. If I become a beast?—”
“Then I’ll become a beast too.”
The wind tasted salt in the trickster’s eyes even though no tears fell. He drew in a shuddering breath and then pulled her closer, tucking her head onto his chest.
They lay quiet for a long moment before the trickster said, “Thank you for buying the Silencer.”
The lucky one smiled, pressing her ear to the thudding of his heart. “What’s it for?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s a weapon. You point it and pull the trigger. The usual. I didn’t want it for myself—I just didn’t want someone else to have it.”
The lucky one laughed, then she asked, “How’s Mari? Finn?”
The wind stilled. Perhaps the trickster would tell the solange-eyed one’s secrets. Why did he smell different? Why was he twisted and cruel?
The trickster shook his head. “Not good. Stay away from them.”
The lucky one raised her eyebrows. “Both of them?”
He nodded, sending his hand through her hair, stroking her back. “She’s . . . she’s a mine. You know what that means. And Finn . . . he tried to kill us today. It wasn’t an act. It wasn’t a mistake. He . . . the look in his eyes. It wasn’t him, but it was. I think something happened after Mari killed him. I think it twisted him, or the underworld poisoned him, or?—”
“Can we save him?”
The trickster shook his head. “I don’t know if there’s anything left to save. You should’ve seen him, Cora. Mari . . . you know she’s in there. But Finn . . .? No. He wasn’t Finn anymore.”
The lucky one looked down at the trickster, and whatever she saw made her face soften. She stroked her hand across his face.
“Stay away from them. Promise me?”
She nodded. Pressed a kiss to his lips. “I promise.”
The wind slipped under the door, leaving them to a gentle rain, evening mist, I-won’t-ever-let-you-go sort of love.
It knew from centuries of watching humans live and die, that sort of lovemaking was almost always followed by goodbye.
