There were so many should-have-beens.
I tried to pick up her arm to put the cuff on her wrist but I couldn’t break her death grip on Shazam. I laid it on the table next to the bed so when she woke up she could have it back.
I touched her hair softly, smoothing scorched auburn tendrils from her face. It was still pulled back in a ponytail but had slipped down to her nape, and I could see the natural curl in it. I smiled faintly, sadly. One day I’d like to see her wearing it curly and wild and free again.
I stroked her cheek, wiping away a smudge of tear-streaked soot, then got a washcloth from the bathroom and gently cleaned her face. I dampened her hair and smoothed it back. The water made it even springier, with little curls forming. She didn’t move at all.
“Dani,” I whispered. “I love you.”
Then I stretched out on the bed behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and held her like she was holding Shazam.
I didn’t know what to do, what else to say. Apologies were pointless. What was, was. Dani had always lived by the motto, “The past is past. The present is now, and that’s why it’s a present. ’Cause you got it, and you can do stuff with it!”
I pressed my cheek to her hair and whispered the same words against her ear that I’d heard her say earlier. Although I had no idea what they meant, they obviously meant something to her.
“I see you, yee-yee,” I said. “Come back. Don’t go away. Please don’t leave me.” I started to cry. “It’s safe here. We love you, Dani. Jada. Whoever you need to be. It’s okay. We don’t care. Just please don’t leave. I’ve got you, honey, I’ve got you.” I cried harder.
—
You never see it coming.
That final, fatal blow.
You think the shit has already hit the fan and exploded all over your face. You think things are so bad they can’t get any worse. You’re walking around tallying all the things that are wrong with your world when you discover you have no clue what’s really going on around you and you’ve only been seeing the tip of the iceberg that sank the Titanic—at the precise moment you hit the iceberg that sank the Titanic.
Hours later I went downstairs, moving woodenly, aching in every limb, head hurting, eyes swollen, nose stuffed solid.
Jada still wasn’t stirring, although twice in the past hour she’d opened her eyes. Both times she’d become aware of me and closed them instantly, either slipping back into unconsciousness or just plain shutting me out.
The bookstore was surprisingly quiet, and I ducked my head into the study to see how Ryodan was doing. He was alone, draped in shimmering cloth etched with glowing symbols, slumbering deeply.
I checked the front of the store, but it was empty so I poked my head out the back to see where everyone was. In the distance, down the alley to the right, I heard voices. I cocked my head, listening.
Barrons talking softly with someone.
I stepped out into the faint bruise of dawn, thinking that in just a few hours I was supposed to meet Alina and I wasn’t sure I was up to it. My heart was pulped. Dani was all I could think about. I was loath to leave her side for an hour or more, for any reason. I certainly couldn’t invite Alina here. Last thing I wanted was Jada being affected in any way by her presence.
I hurried down the alley and turned the corner but no one was there.
I kept walking, absently following the sound of Barrons’s voice, wondering why everyone had left the store. As I turned the next corner, I heard a dry chittering and glanced up.
The sky above me was thick with black-robed wraiths, gliding, soaring, rustling. Thanks to the Hunter, I now knew they were the Sweeper’s minions. And whatever the mysterious entity was, it was right, I was certainly broken. My heart was in pieces.
There were hundreds of them. I tipped back my head. Even more perched on the rooftops on both sides of the street. I glanced back at BB&B, barely able to make out the roof of the building, and was stunned to see that it, too, was completely covered in ghoulish carrion. I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t even looked up as I’d stepped out. They must have been perching up there in silence.
They weren’t silent now. Their chittering grew, became a sort of metallic screeching I’d never heard before as they looked from me to one another and back to me again.