By the time I had crawled upright, Oliver was long gone.
My demon was gone. He would not be coming back.
And I had made my choice.
A sob burned in my chest. How could I have finally realized how much I relied on him yet been so utterly blind to it too?
I needed Oliver simply to keep standing.
Far to the west, something gleamed. The obelisk. It wavered and shone like a beam of silver sunlight. Without thinking, I scrambled upright and set off toward it.
Time passed. When I finally reached the obelisk, almost tripping over the sand piled around it, the Spirit-Hunters were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were sleeping—and I was grateful for it.
I laid my left palm against the carved granite face. “You can do this, Eleanor. You are strong. You are an empress.”
Nothing. No spark of strength. No surge of self-belief.
I rolled my head back to stare at the pointed tip. It swam and drifted in my vision.
“Can I, though?” I whispered to the stone. Then to the starry sky, to the moon, to anything that would listen. “Can I?” I had learned how to use my magic with Oliver’s help—before him, I had been simply me. . . .
A girl with no hand and no family.
My fingers fell, dragging down the obelisk’s surface.
“Eleanor?”
My head snapped sideways. Joseph stood at the base of the pyramid. The worried lines on his brow told me he’d heard my outbreak, seen me cry.
“Come,” he said softly. “Join me.” Without waiting to see if I would follow, he began a graceful ascent up the worn steps of the pyramid.
And I hurried after. There were only thirty steps to climb, and they were waist high—easier to rise than the Great Pyramid had been.
By the time we reached the top, I was sweating and my breath burned in my throat. But I welcomed it—any feeling that distracted me from the gaping hole in my heart.
Joseph settled onto the top stone and eased Daniel’s spyglass from his pocket. I dropped down beside him, rubbing my face on my sleeve.
“He is gone,” I said into the damp fabric. “He is gone for good.” I risked a peek at Joseph.
But all he did was nod. Other than that, he showed no reaction.
And I was grateful. So very grateful. I lowered my arm, and as if Joseph were a priest to absolve my sins, I confessed. “I don’t know why I did it, Joseph. I suppose I hated feeling like I was no one without him.” I lifted my left hand helplessly. “But I am no one. His magic was everything that kept me alive.”
“You do yourself an injustice,” Joseph said softly, pressing the spyglass to his eye and scanning the horizon. “You saved all of Philadelphia without him. You battled spirits, you battled corpses, and you battled Marcus—all before you’d ever met Oliver.” He lowered the spyglass. “I realize the loss hurts, but it will fade with time, Eleanor.”
“But not soon enough. And there is such a vast emptiness where our bond used to be.” I clutched at my belly. “It is like someone scooped out my insides. Like he scooped them out and took them away.”
I sank forward and cradled my head. It was as if part of me had not let him go. As if this swelling in my chest was a desperate hope that he would return.
Joseph rested a hand on my shoulder—a brotherly gesture that was so unlike him . . . but that comforted me all the same. “Jie told me something,” he said softly. “She said that when Oliver healed her, their minds met. She thinks it was by accident—that he was so upset by how close you went to the edge, he lost control of his feelings. They poured into Jie—and do you know what she felt?”
I shook my head.
“She felt lost and alone. Confused and angry. She felt a love so powerful, it branded her heart and reminded her why it was worth being alive.”
“But I felt that too,” I murmured. “He showed me his soul too.”
“Ah, but I do not think he did, Eleanor. You felt what your demon wanted you to feel. Jie felt what he could not hide.”
Joseph’s hand withdrew, and I nodded—though I did not truly understand.
Remember this, El: not everyone who you invite in will wish to be there. And no matter what you might want, I will one day have to leave.
My eyelids flicked shut. Perhaps I could understand. He had warned me, time and time again.
“Marcus,” I croaked, “could be here tomorrow. We are made weaker without Oliver’s magic.” I wet my lips and peeled my eyelids back. “We might not win this.”
“Ah, but you forget something.” Joseph leaned onto his knees. “Marcus wants only me. He will come to us because—as you rightfully saw—he wants revenge for what I did to him all those years ago. And so, should it seem that we are losing, then there is an obvious solution to change the tide.”