Ender’s Ridge went still.
Rain died down to a gentle patter through the holes of the roof, sizzling when it fell onto glowing coals. Harsh wind heaved one last sigh, as though it was exhausted as they were, and eased to a soft breeze, carrying the last of the rain with it. Only the sunlight remained, dappled and gleaming.
Let it end.
Elias Lane was gone. The husk of his body crumbled as two pigeons swooped overhead and returned to their roost in the rafters. They didn’t mind the saved town, only that their home was peaceful and they could return to preening their iridescent feathers above the group who gathered their wits about them.
Laurie sagged in Decker’s arms, both collapsing as he brushed away embers. They’d survived as one.
Laurie, Laurie, Laurie.
His shaken breaths sounded like a man on his deathbed.
“You did good, Laurie. Real good,” Decker murmured as his forehead rested against him, exhaustion making him heavy in his arms.
“Almost became a martyr if he’d thrown another lamp at me,” Laurie gritted out, his strained laughter huffing against Decker’s chest.
Decker’s eyes stung.
Only smoke.
Drawing back to look at Laurie, his gaze flickered over the ashen tatters of his clothes and the face gone pale under the soot.
Laurie’s teeth clenched against a small sound when Decker’s touch grazed over the burnt skin of his hands. Black flaked away. He was healing.
Scars were an inevitable part of who they were, and now the three of them were forever bound by memories of fire from the same man—both an ever-present reminder of what they’d endured and a blessing they were still here to endure it, unlike some of the others.
The fresh graves down the street were testament. Cricket’s grave at Amaretto was testament.
Decker wasn’t sentimental enough to think Cricket would be proud; no, he’d smoke a few and drink and tell an off-color joke about how the reverend’s ashes would make good eye-paint for the girls at the dance hall.
He glanced up at Safine, hovering by the door.
Sister Inez was with her when they left the chapel.
Safine had returned alone.
Her teeth sunk into her lip and she dragged in a half breath. “Inez got the damned snake.” Her voice broke as she wiped her hands on her ruined dress. “She just didn’t time it right.”
Laurie let out a defeated sound, tipping his head back against Decker’s chest. “Oh,God, is she alive? Safine, please—”
Safine scuffled the toe of her boot against the charred circle of herbs on the floor. “She can be a nun with one hand. Willa’s mindin’ her now. With the supplies from Three Hawks, I think…I think I can patch her up. She’ll be alright, if she remembers,” she said, trying to sound convincing.
She lingered, unmoving.
Easing Laurie to lean against the pew, Decker stood.
Bottle-green eyes flashed with tears that refused to fall until he was there, arms around slumped shoulders. Decker held Safine like it was the last time and she clung to him, head buried in his neck and fingers holding tight enough to bruise.
“It’s over.”
“I—fuck, I didn’t think—”
“I know, Safi.”
Minutes slipped by. Like it was once again only the two of them finding their way in a world not kind to them. Then they’d found Ender’s Ridge, and each other, and the world grew a little brighter.
Safine’s voice strengthened. “Until death do us part?”
