Benny summoned all the courage he could find. He braced himself to say what he knew he had to say next.
“Nix,” he began softly, “it’s okay if you don’t love me anymore. It’s okay if you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymore. It’s okay if you just want to be you.”
She stiffened.
“I love you,” he said. “I really do, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that whatever you need to do to figure out who you are and what you want . . . I’ve got your back, but I’ll never get in your way.”
His mouth hurt to say those words, and inside his chest it felt as if a huge, icy fist was squeezing his heart into pulp. But Benny stood his ground and forced his eyes to stay dry. Tears now would be of no help to anyone.
Nix did not turn, she did not say a word. She stared out at the day, and Benny watched her and tried to remember how to breathe.
Then Nix gasped and said, “Oh my God!” She stumbled backward in horror, pointing out into the desert.
“What—?” asked Benny.
But as he rushed to her side, he saw what it was. Outside, near where the three zombies hung on their T-bars, were three people. Reapers.
Two men and a tall woman with masses of dark brown hair.
“Nix!” cried Benny in a strangled whisper, “that’s her. That’s the woman I saw today in the field right before the zoms chased me.”
57
“YOU’RE SURE?” ASKED NIX. “SHE’S THE ONE FROM THE FIELD?”
“Positive.”
They studied her. She was tall and beautiful, and she stood with a grace that spoke of great confidence. Benny recalled the word he had thought of when he first saw her: regal. Queenly. But queen of what?
There were other reapers around her. Men and women, all of them dressed in black with angel wings and red tassels. They all carried weapons. Swords, axes, knives.
“I don’t see any guns,” whispered Benny.
“Not much of a comfort,” replied Nix sourly.
Then they gaped at a man who came out of the woods to take up a very protective post just behind the queenly woman. He was a giant, and he carried a massive long-handled sledgehammer.
“What is he?” asked Nix. “A troll?”
“Close enough.”
The air was split by the roar of quads as more reapers appeared from the forest until there were at least two dozen of them gathered around the woman. Except for her, all of them had shaved and tattooed heads like Saint John. And Riot, thought Benny.
None of them stood very close to her, though every eye was fixed on her. None of them paid much attention to the plane, and it was clear that they had all seen it before, or did not care about it. The woman ignored it completely.
She beckoned over a grim-faced young man, and for several moments they stood apart, their heads bowed together in an intense discussion while the giant guarded them.
“I can’t hear anything,” complained Benny. “Can you?”
Nix’s face was screwed up with concentration. “No.”
That changed a moment later. The young man bowed deeply to the woman, turned, and melted into the forest. The woman stepped onto a small, flat rock, and the other reapers clustered around her. She raised her arms out to the sides and stood for a moment in silence, the wind making the red streamers snap and pop.
Then, in a loud, clear voice she addressed the reapers. “You are the blessed of Thanatos!”
“All praise to the darkness,” they cried.
“In you he is well pleased. As I am pleased.”
“All praise to Mother Rose!”
Nix turned to Benny and mouthed the name. “Mother Rose.”
It was the name Saint John had mentioned.
“My children,” said Mother Rose, “you have all done exceedingly well. Your faith and devotion lifts my heart.”