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My mind reels from the information. She did seem to disappear into his body. And, come to think of it, the tether feels strongest when I’m with Sunday.

This is good news, I think. If she is inside him, maybe she can still help me.

“You’d have to be pretty unlucky,” I mutter, squishing my face into his chest and wrapping my arms around his waist.

My gut instinct tells me that my fate is set, but my stubborn head tells me that I can do this. I can save him, myself, and Delphine.

But…if it comes down to it? There are only so many times I can cheat death.

Chapter Fifty-One

Sunday

Coming back to this decrepit building scares the shit out of me.

We made the decision to come back after Bellamy had time to scour his newly stolen book for information—borrowed grimoire, I correct myself. When we got here, he hurried around etching white lines and weird letters into the floor and the edge of the pool, throwing handfuls of powder here and there.

There’s something so strikingly beautiful about seeing Bellamy in his element. Flashlight casts silver and shadows across his face as he sits with his legs crossed, lips moving silently. One palm hovers just above his knee, the other the same, but splayed toward the ceiling. His fingers twitch periodically in quick, jerky movements. Almost like he’s plucking at invisible strings, playing some unseen melody.

I stare at him, drinking in his features.

The energy rolls off him in slow, undulating waves. I feel the pulse of it reaching toward me, curling around my limbs.

Phenomenal.

I can’t believe I wasted so much time not believing him when I could have had the privilege of witnessing his divinity. There’s still so much for me to learn about what he’s capable of, but all in good time.

A little gray cloud of air puffs out from his mouth as his breath hitches, eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids.

“Baby, you good?” I whisper into the dark, the sound echoing slightly in the dank corridor.

He angles his head toward me, lifting his chin. His eyes remain closed, but the space between his brows furrows. And then he shushes me.

I pump mine in retaliation, not that he can see me. “Okay, sassy,” I mutter under my breath, returning to lean on the wall. There’s not much for me to do apart from wait.

And wait.

And—

Oh, here it comes.

“Bels…” I warn, as my vision starts swimming, the familiar hot, oily sensation slicking up my throat. I taste the smoke seconds before it starts leaking out of my mouth, sour and horrible. I gag on it, my hand flying to my throat.

Bellamy’s head jerks in my direction, his clawed hand flying up, making a grabbing motion. Something unnamable swallows his usually soft features, mouth twisting with fury, eyes turned to molten pools. His fingers clench, and then he pulls.

The sensation is awful—like I’ve swallowed a ball of string and it’s being yanked out of me, inch by torturous inch. I gag around the nothingness, bending over and placing my hands on my knees, able to do nothing except purge my system. My eyes blur with tears, but I make out the shape of Bellamy rolling up to his feet, still tugging. The moment stretches for too long, but then it snaps, air breaking into my lungs as I gasp in a breath.

Feet scrape against the floor, a grunt huffs out of Bellamy, and there’s a splash of water. My stomach turns, thinking the worst, but when my head whips around, he’s standing with his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with rapid breaths. Time settles, and I realize that I feel empty, in the best way.

It’s gone.

He fucking did it.

I take a step forward at the same time he takes a step back from the water, pivoting on his foot toward me. There’s still a wild, glowing look in his eyes when he starts laughing.

“I-I think I actually fucking did it!” He laughs in disbelief, taking another tentative step toward me.

The stretch of my mouth is so forceful it hurts.