She had heard about people losing themselves in physical closeness. As if one might misplace their identity through a night of passion.
But Dee found herself in the heat of his mouth, the familiar touch of his fingertips against her bare skin. She felt more herself than she had ever been, happiness blooming beneath her skin, her chest full of joy.
“Condom?” he said, sounding strained.
Dee fumbled in her backpack; the school nurse had a box of condoms in her office, even if the parents complained. He laughed, jubilant, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, said she was brilliant and prepared. His fingers laced through hers, and his gaze never wavered.
It was—well, it was a sharp inhalation, a bite of teeth on her lower lip, fullness, hands on her hips, a whispered curse, mingled breath, and tangled fingers.
She woke the next morning, an arm around her waist. Breath tickled along her skin as James breathed. His fingers rested lightly on her stomach. Perhaps he thought she was still asleep, for he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.
“I love you.” He murmured the words into her unruly hair.
I chose this, she thought, and smiled.
THIRTY-SIX
Dee was just getting off her shift of volunteer work at the hospital when she saw him.
The lean, beautiful figure standing on the sidewalk.
As she made her way toward the Daemon, the sound of her own breath became loud in her ears. The bustle of the hospital seemed to fall away around her, until it was as if they were the only two living beings there.
The lamplight caught on the Daemon’s skin, making him look ethereally pale. Lovely and eternal. And yet, he came from the same place as that burrower, that creature of ill-formed legs and claws. She wondered what kind of world could birth two such different species.
She spoke first; somehow it made her feel as if she had some control over the situation.
“Tonight’s the night?”
He nodded. There was almost a look of… that couldn’t be sympathy on his face, could it? A chill went through her.
“Tonight,” he agreed. “Come to the bank.”
And then he simply vanished.
Well, she thought, at least he hadn’t told her the world was ending via text message.
Dee wasn’t sure how one dressed for a potential apocalypse.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” said Gremma. “If you fail, you’ll be dead before the actual destruction happens.”
“Thanks for that encouraging thought,” said Dee.
It felt odd to be sitting in her dorm room, on her computer chair, lacing up a pair of running shoes. It was exceedingly routine, but she could taste the strangeness of the night on her tongue. Her skin felt as shivery as if someone had run a live current over it. Perhaps it was nerves, or perhaps her heartless body was attuned to this night, to the thinness of this world. To the closeness of another.
She closed her eyes for a moment, steadied herself
“You’re going to be all right, right?” said Gremma. She sounded uncommonly worried. Her face twisted, annoyed she was forced to endure such an emotion.
Dee nodded. Her stomach felt as if she had swallowed shards of broken glass. She looked around her dorm room, acutely aware that this could be the last time she ever saw it—her bed with the worn blue comforter, her desk, their TV, Gremma’s stuffed animals. She made herself say, “Listen. I—I’ve got a letter for my mother. In my desk. If—if something happens.”
Just in case.
Gremma put her hands on her hips. “Oh god. Last requests. It’s always the part of the movie I fast-forward through, usually because the character is dying in some factually inaccurate way.”
“If I do die,” replied Dee, “I’ll try to do it accurately.”
A choked little giggle escaped Gremma. Her hands fell to her sides. “Well, I’ve got something else encouraging for you, too.” She knelt, reached beneath her bed, and dragged out a backpack. “Here.”
