Next of Kin (John Cleaver #3.5)

“Give meaning to what?” I asked, feeling bitter and empty. “If I give you meaning and you die, what good has it done?”


“You can’t give me meaning,” she said simply. “It’s not yours to give; I have to do that on my own. Elijah, what has meaning for you?”

I looked at Rosie, remembering the day we were married, and the long nights we’d spent sick or worried or joyful in each other’s arms. “People,” I said.

“And what happened when those people were gone?”

I stared at her, so close I could almost touch her, and my voice came out in a strained whisper. “It is so much worse than simply being gone.”

Rosie nodded, silent a moment, before speaking softly. “A life can be important because it affects other things, and it can have purpose because of what it accomplishes, or what it intends to accomplish, and those are active words. They have movement and life behind them, and when somebody dies, that life goes away, and it feels sometimes like the purpose and importance goes with them.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Meaning is different. A life has meaning when it means something to someone else, and it can never do that on its own. It means something to me. To you. When that life is gone, it hurts us and it changes us and it feels sometimes like we’re tearing apart, but no matter where that life goes, or if it even goes anywhere at all, the things that it meant are still there because it meant them to you. And as long as you hold that inside of you, it’s not just meant, in the past tense, but meaning, in the present. Right now. You asked if making connections was worth it, and I promise you: it’s the only worthwhile thing in the world.”





Part Nine


I don’t know what I was expecting from the meeting. A reunion, perhaps, though I knew it wouldn’t happen. In years, maybe, when her loss had subsided . . . But no. Even if she was ready, I wouldn’t be the same anymore. I might even have forgotten her.

I forgot my way home and drove around in the middle of the night, thinking.

When I went to work again, the three Gifted were there, Gidri and Ihsan and the silent man. Ted was unconscious in the corner, his face bloody, and I ignored Gidri’s cheerful greeting as I walked to Ted’s body and leaned down to check his pulse and breathing. He was alive, but I couldn’t imagine that the Gifted intended to leave him that way for long. I straightened and turned to face them.

“Is this your new plan?” I asked. “I won’t join your army, so you kill my friend?”

“He’s still alive,” said the tall man.

“For now,” said Gidri. “You know how the rest of this proposal goes, so I’ll just sit and wait while you propose it to yourself.” He sat on the edge of the desk, watching me with a dark, laughing gleam in his eye. Ihsan stood beside him, the scar on his face more prominent now than it was before, and in the corner the third man, sharp-faced and ominous, lurked like a shadow.

“Am I really that important to you?” I asked.

“You’re our brother, Meshara.”

“You’ve never cared about that before.”

“How would you know?” asks Gidri, and the wicked grin that spread across his too-handsome face was all the more maddening, because I knew he was right: maybe they did care about me, and stood up for me, and I just couldn’t remember it because I couldn’t remember anything. I touched the keys on my lanyard and found myself reciting the litany of maintenance checks for the hearses. Did I still remember it all? Was I missing any steps? Ted would be able to help, but if I didn’t tread carefully Ted would never do anything again.

“We want you on our side, because you’re one of us,” said Gidri. “You belong with us—with the whole Cursed family.”

“Cursed?” I said, looking up in surprise. “I thought your side called us Gifted.”

“I know a curse when I see one,” said Gidri. “We wanted long life, assuming that it would be a good life by default, and we’ve had millennia to learn the truth of that mistake. But unless you’re ready to roll over and die, what difference does it make? Even monsters can defend themselves.”

I looked at Ted, unconscious and bloody. “From the big, scary humans.”

“They’re closer to winning than you think,” said Gidri. “If we found you, they might have, too, and they could be watching us right now. Or someone else, maybe? Someone who’s slowly inserted themselves into your life, gaining your trust, learning your secrets, waiting for the moment to strike.”

I thought about Rosie, but there was no way she was hunting us. I knew her too well—better, literally, than I knew myself. She and Merrill and Jacob were the only people I knew. And Ted. Was that Ted?

I looked in the corner, and it was Jacob. Ted got a new job two years ago. Or was it longer?

I needed a new mind, and soon.

“You look confused,” said Gidri.

“I’m fine.”