Was Ander there?
She faced the water. Where was he? How had he spent his final breaths? Her mind rewound to the first moment they had spoken when he slammed into her car, the weird and lovely way he’d caught her tear. How had they gotten from there to here? Eureka wished she’d done everything differently. She wished she could have said goodbye.
She ached for the release that only tears could bring. She knew she couldn’t, knew she wouldn’t, but as much as she tried to be as unfeeling as Ovid, Eureka was a human girl trapped inside a human body. Heat welled in her eyes.
A great splash erupted near the edge of the pond. A spout of water crested above the veranda’s rail. A blond head appeared in its center.
Ander spilled himself out of the water, which fell back into the pond. He was bleeding and straining to breathe. How much time did he have left?
Eureka flung her arms around his neck. He spun her around like her weight was a wonderful surprise. Their lips were centimeters apart when Eureka pulled away. She’d been so sure she’d lost him. She put a hand against his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest.
“Is he here?” Ander asked.
“Who?”
“Atlas! Did you see which way he went?”
Eureka shook her head. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to say he had only moments left to live.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Eureka stepped aside to reveal his family.
Ander raked his fingers through his hair. He leaned down and held his hand in front of Albion’s face.
“Am I a ghost?”
Eureka touched the tips of Ander’s hair. It felt so good, so alive, that she caressed his scalp, his brow, his cheek, his neck. He turned his head into her hand.
“No,” she said. She wondered whether Ander knew what she knew about Ovid and the Filling.
“I don’t understand. When one Seedbearer dies—”
“All of them die.”
“But I’m still here,” Ander whispered. “How?”
Eureka remembered the envelope Solon had given her. She’d stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out, lifted its flap. Inside was the lachrymatory containing her tears, wrapped in a piece of paper covered in lovely cursive.
Eureka quickly slipped the vial inside her pocket. She unfolded the paper and read aloud:
“To Whom It May Concern (Eureka):
“Am I dead yet?
“Good.
“There is a fine bottle of brandy in the pocket of the farthest silk robe in my closet. You will know it from its antique bamboo hanger. Once you are safely ensconced inside, crack it open, and gather round you all those who remain and care. Or perhaps just those who remain. Then you shall know a portion of the truth.”
Eureka looked up as Cat, William, and Claire stepped over Seedbearers to draw closer.
“What else does he say?” William asked.
Eureka read on:
“I’m serious. Go inside.
“Eureka, lest you became paralyzed by indecision: You won’t waste Ander’s final moments rifling through a closet full of silly silk robes, hunting for booze like a lucky bum who swung in through the window. The boy could live to taste a million of your kisses, barring catastrophes out of my control. I’ll explain everything in a moment.”
“We should honor his request,” Ander said. He kicked Albion aside and lifted Solon from the ground.
They descended the stairs into Solon’s salon. Ander laid Solon’s body on the rug next to his chair, where he could be near the waterfall. He went downstairs to retrieve the brandy. William brought out the witches’ torch for light, and Eureka sat atop the broken dining table and read aloud:
“Are you still mad at me? You should have seen your face when you realized what I’d done. Yes, I wrote this letter before I saw your face, but I know how angry you will be and were. I’m exploding time and tense in my last testament!