Page 53 of Evermore

“What? What do you see?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll choose her anyway. You always do.”

“Ezra—”

“This ends here.” He straightened, the armor sliding back into place. “Get out. You took my memories, brother. You don’t get my counsel too. Take your pets with you.”

As I turned to leave, he spoke one last time. “The path to peace still exists, brother. But you’ll never find it while you’re running toward her.”

The Unmade Guardians hadn’t come any closer. Most hadn’t looked up at all as we walked out. Had Ezra given the signal, they would have descended, whether it meant their lives in the end or not. Had we been mortals, we would have all been dead before the gate shut. The Unmade were vicious. But there were only two things that could kill a god, and neither would ever be the hands of Ezra’s Guardians.

I had a thousand questions for Tuck and Minnie. But I didn’t get to ask a single one because not only was Archer still waiting in the alley, he had company.

Alastor lounged against the closest building’s marble wall. Archer was pinned to the opposite, his feet dangling inches above the ground while Alastor’s Remnants coiled around his limbs and torso, holding him in place. The damn sword lay on the ground between them and if not for the present company, I might’ve fucking laughed at the lessons poor Archer was learning today. Or not learning, as it were.

The second Minerva stepped into the alley, Alastor’s gaze snapped to her. His dark eyes widened almost imperceptibly before he dipped his chin in a show of respect that seemed both sincere and mocking.

Minerva walked forward. The shadows cast by the looming buildings seemed to part before her, as if even the darkness dared not impede her path. When she reached Alastor, she lifted her cane and whacked him soundly on the shin. “Let that boy down immediately.”

Maybe she should just hit him a few more times and demand Paesha’s return.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. “As you wish, Minerva.”

He snapped his fingers and the Remnants released their hold on Archer, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. He landed in a graceless heap, scrambled to his feet, snatching his fallen sword and putting it back into its sheath.

Oh good. Learning.

He’d always been smart. Calculated with a healthy dose of irrationality. Balanced in that way. It was why he gambled so successfully. Why he’d been such a big part of my run as the Lord of the Salt. But something had changed in him. Maybe the grief was too heavy. Maybe losing his sister was like having his ownsoul sliced open, much like it was for me to lose my Ever. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt on that alone.

I slid my hands into my pockets. “What do you want, Alastor?”

His eyes flicked through everyone else. “Perhaps this conversation is better had in private.”

“No. Speak now before I change my mind about scrambling yours.”

“I have every fail-safe in place, Keeper. You make one move against me and her final life cycle will end with Ezra’s sword in her back. One move and this is over.”

He fucking had me, and he knew it. He was always one step ahead.

“Go to the Parlor,” I said, gaze shifting between Archer and Tuck. “I’ll meet you there.”

“You sure, Boss?” Archer asked, likely not realizing he’d used my old title as he squared off with Alastor.

“I’m sure. I’ll be right behind you.”

Once they were gone, and we could no longer hear the clacking of Minerva’s cane, Alastor pulled a familiar dark crystal ball from the folds of his cloak. The obsidian surface caught what little light filtered into the alley, throwing shadows across his face. “I believe this belongs to you.”

My fingers itched to snatch it from his grasp. “It did. Before you stole it.”

“Before youlostit,” he corrected, a cruel smile playing at his lips. “But now I’m returning it. Consider it…” He paused, turning the orb in his hands. “An act of mercy.”

“You wouldn’t know mercy if it bit the tip of your dick.”

He ignored my comment, holding the crystal ball up between us. Its surface began to swirl with dark smoke before clearing to reveal an image that shattered something deep inside me. Paesha sat in the corner of a bare room, rocking back and forth,her hands pressed against her ears. The binding marks on her wrists stark against her olive skin. I’d need to be careful here. Calculated. I knew what he wanted. The same thing he always wanted.

“The stars aren’t falling. Don’t talk to me,” she whispered to the empty room. “What do you mean they’re burning holes in the sky?” She laughed, the sound sharp and broken. “Someone should catch them before they hit the ground. Put them in the Maw. Stretch them.”

“What is she seeing?”