Page 7

Slightly.

“You know,” the Reaper began a few moments later. Loren braced herself for another of his famous jabs. “I never imagined anyone could hate your prick boyfriend more than I do…but I think his sister might actually beat me this time.” He wheezed a long, drawn-out chuckle that hopefully no predators would hear.

Loren wouldn’t be surprised if Malakai was right. To say Ivy had been upset upon learning of her brother’s trade was an understatement, though they’d all had to leave Roman’s so hastily that not many words had been exchanged.

Apart from the words Loren had said to Darien, and Darien to her.

‘How could you?’she’d demanded of him.

‘I hate you for doing that,’she’d blurted.

And:‘I don’t want to talk to you right now, I don’t want to see you.’

‘I hate you’.That one bothered her the most.

She may be angry still, may feel deeply hurt and betrayed by his decision to part with his life, but she wished she’d handled the situation differently.

“So, what happened, anyway?” Malakai asked. “Your dog died, Cassel went to the Widow to get it back, and he what, tied his life to yours?”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Another nosebleed, if the rusty taste on her tongue was any indication. “Basically, yeah.”

“FYI, a dog doesn’t cost that much. Not when a hellseher can live forever if they’re in perfect health. Your dog would’ve lived, what—nine, ten years?”

She looked at him in question—at least, she tried to, but he might as well have been invisible. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he parted with more by choice.”

She nibbled on her chapped lip, her teeth chattering so hard they nearly pierced the skin. “So, the Widow could’ve given Singer back for…like…a decade of his?”

An upward tug on her arm suggested Malakai had shrugged. “Maybe two decades, maybe three. Depends. Immortal years are worth triple or more what yours are—no offense.”

“None taken,” she muttered.

“I’m not an expert on this shit, though, so don’t go quoting me. All I’m saying is I guaran-fucking-tee a dog didn’t cost him his entire immortal life. Just doesn’t make sense.”

They walked for a few minutes in silence, rock shifting underfoot, the soles of their boots slipping every now and again on sheets of smooth ice.

When she got back, she decided, she would get the story from Darien in full. No leaving anything out—she wanted to know every detail. And maybe she would still be angry with him, maybe she would still feel like he’d betrayed her, but at least she would know the truth.

For a city with a population so large, it was horrifyingly quiet. Whenever Loren wasn’t thinking about Darien and the others, which was seldom, her mind was plagued with the question of how many people had died—how many might still die, given the sheer number of predators prowling every block, starving for flesh.

Monsters aside, time was running out in other ways, thanks to the spirit dimension blending with their own, slowly siphoning the life out of everything it touched. The darkness of the Void reminded her of quicksand.It wasn’t natural, but like quicksand it had a peculiar way of making you feel like you were sinking or being pulled on. Sucked into a vortex of freezing-cold night.

The temperature was good for one thing, though—it made itslightlyeasier to bear the pain of her wounds. Her back had been blistered by the blast, her hair clinging to the clotted blood. The white armor she wore—a sleek, magically enhanced bodysuit that fit her like a glove from neck to toes—had sustained so much damage, the protective barrier that made it special no longer worked. She could feel everything now, even something as minor as the press of the rocks under her feet. One bullet or bite in a vital area, and she’d be done for.

“Okay, so…Starling.” The direction of Malakai’s gruff voice suggested he was staring blindly over his shoulder. “Where is that, anyway? Wherearewe?”

She hummed. “I remember driving through this area after Darien brought me to the Avenue of the Waning Moon.” The afternoon they’d spent together at the bakery, stuffing themselves with those delicious cinnamon buns, was only yesterday, but it felt like a hundred years had passed since then. He’d asked her if she wanted kids one day—had talked about the future as if she had one to look forward to. As if she weren’t mortal, and he an immortal hellseher who should never have fallen in love with a human.

As if they hadn’t been doomed right from the start. Since the moment they’d met, they’d been thwarted with bad luck. Everything that could go wrong in their lives had indeed gone wrong. But they’d fought it—had fought hard for each other. For love. But in the end, death always won—even when pitted against the force that could move mountains.

Love.

“The Avenue of the Waning what-the-fuck?”

“Waning Moon,” she repeated, breathing deeply to soothe the sudden ache in her chest. It felt like a bullet had sliced into her heart.

How badly she wanted a future with Darien couldn’t be expressed in words. She wanted it—wantedhim—more than she wanted anything in the world. Wanted to live with him and love him forever.