Page 36 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

“How?” I managed, though my tongue felt too swollen, this fresh from a memory.

“Use your words, Treasure. ”

At the use of that name, the complete violation of my past, I turned to the side and heaved. Nothing came up of course. Even the bile had stopped coming up two days ago.

“Use your words and I’ll give you a bite.”

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

He tsked. “Your insults are getting weak. Perhaps your mind is as well.” He waved what was left of his fruit in front of me, the white meaty part of his apple, so sweet it lured me closer to him. “I can’t tell you how to use your power. I can only hope to coax it free again.”

The Remnants hit again before I knew they were coming.

“Go away,” I breathed, staring into the beady eyes of a rat who was probably as hungry as me.

The cold, damp cobblestones beneath me seeped through my thin dress and into my bones.

I huddled closer to the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

The alleyway was dark, the sun hiding behind the clouds, casting long shadows that danced and flickered like ghostly fingers.

I’d scavenged a half-rotten apple, and it only smelled a little terrible.

Better than the moldy bread from two days ago.

I’d learned at the ripe old age of five that a little rot was okay, and with fruit, the sweetness overpowered the sour if you didn’t let it go too long.

But the squishy bits made my fingers sticky, and I hated going to the bathhouse.

Clutching my precious apple in my fingers, I waited for Papa in the alley we’d claimed as our own, huddled under a makeshift shelter we had cobbled together from scraps of wood and cloth. He was careful to pick a spot where I could hide at night, but the rats always found me.

And rats bit. Hard.

The little creature crept closer, sniffing the air, his whiskers bouncing up and down.

“Shoo. I’m saving half for Papa. He’ll be here any second. I know it.”

That was a lie. I never knew when he would come back anymore.

Not really. He’d followed the scary cane man last night and left me to sleep in the alcove.

I missed his warm back pressed against mine.

I missed the smell of ale on his breath as he crooned into my ear, promising we’d be in a home soon and he’d buy me a pretty dress.

I didn’t need a dress. I didn’t even need a real breakfast. I just wanted him to be here with me. But last time I told him that, he said I didn’t know what was best for me. I probably didn’t.

My belly rumbled as I pulled the apple closer, staring at the tiny bit of skin that still held firmness. That would be the best bite. And that fat rat knew it too. He stepped closer again, his nose dancing as if he heard music that no one else did.

I could feel the swell of tears in my eyes before I heard the crack of my voice. “No. I need this one.”

But it would be a war between the rat and I, and we both knew it. I’d pull away, he’d scramble up my arms hissing, and his nails would scratch me, and his teeth would bite me, and I’d lose the apple anyway.

An angry tear slipped from my eye as I accepted defeat, pushing away the pain in my tummy, and rolled the mushy apple toward the beast. Last time I got bit, it’d swelled, and Papa had scolded me for trying to fight an animal. He was probably right.

Another tear fell. I didn’t know when I’d eat again. I sniffled, watching that rat devour my only meal. He hadn’t even bothered to run off.

“No more tears, Treasure.” My father’s soft voice was like a balm as he hurried up the alley toward me.

I swiped away the proof of my sorrow, keeping an eye on the rat until my father’s heavy stomp sent him scurrying down the alley.

Papa leaned down, blocking my view of the little beast as he tucked a finger under my chin and lifted, forcing me to look into his comforting eyes.

“Missed one.” His thumb rubbed my face, and likely the dirt staining it.

“I was trying to save the apple for dinner. I’m sorry, Papa.”

He reached into his coat pocket, boasting a grand smile as he wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ve got something better. Something special. Close your eyes.”

The sadness in my heart was swept away by the whimsical words of a prideful man.

He didn’t have real magic like I did, but he had a different kind.

The kind that made pain and worry scamper as quickly as that rat had.

Maybe the gods had abandoned this world, like everyone always said, but one of them must have snuck back in and gave him something special.

I closed my eyes, unable to hide my smile as excitement swelled in my belly.

“Remember that I love you always, Treasure. Beyond the moon and the stars and every drop of rain. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you too, Papa,” I whispered as something small and delicate fell into my waiting hand.

“Open your eyes.”

I was terrified to let him see the disappointment melt over me. I stared down at a broken necklace, repeating his frequent words in my mind: emotions are nothing more than barricades.

The jewelry was lovely, with a gold shine similar to something I remember my mother wearing. But it would do nothing for the growing hunger.

“Thank you, Papa. Where did it come from?”

“Doesn’t my girl deserve fine jewelry?”

“I guess so,” I said, keeping my chin high and my eyes on the broken clasp to stave off the pressing tears.

I knew there was something wrong with me then. What kind of person gets such a lovely gift and doesn’t feel grateful? But maybe I did. Maybe it was buried under hunger.

“I think I can fix this piece.” He pulled the necklace from my hands, and sat beside me, resting his back against the brick building. “See? The clasp is just bent a bit. By the time you get back, I’ll have it good as new.”

“Get back from where?”

“We talked about this. You’ve got to find that cane.” I watched his large fingers curl around the necklace before he slipped it back into his pocket. “You find that cane and our world changes. No more cold nights out here, no more rats and rotten apples.”

“But I thought you were coming with me?”

“You’ll have to do this one alone. That’s okay, isn’t it? You can do this for me. For us?”

“No more rats?”

“Not where we’re going, Treasure.”

“Okay, Papa.”

“You bring that cane to me, and I’ll take it from there. We’ll eat like kings and queens tonight.”

I jumped from my spot on the ground. “Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?”

He stood, slid the worn, old, brown hat from his head, wrapping an arm around his belly as he bowed low with a flourish of his hand. “I would never lie to you.” A glint of joy lit his eyes as he held a palm out to me. “Is that music I hear?”

I giggled. “Papa!”

“Shh. Listen.” He swept his arms back and forth as if he conducted the world on a silent song. “Can’t you hear it, Treasure?”

I nodded, though it wasn’t really there. It was only his special magic. “I can hear it.”

Hauling me onto the tips of his toes, he began to sing, sweeping through the narrow alley as we spun and stepped, and I laughed and he laughed and there was no more pain in my belly. Just like magic.

“Scram, kid.”

I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until a giant boot came crashing down beside my head, splashing a puddle of water into my face.

I scrambled away, pulling my knees to my chest, looking around in the dark for my father. Heart racing, I realized he never came back and the angry man staring down at me didn’t want me here but if I left, my father wouldn’t be able to find me. This was our home. Our alley.

“What’s the matter, little petal? You lost?”

A woman circled around the man, kneeling in front of me, soaking the ends of her dress in the mud puddle as she reached for my face.

I turned away from her fingers with a jerk. “Don’t touch me.”

“Feisty little thing,” she laughed. “Between us girls, you might not want to stick around for what’s about to happen.”

“I have to be here.” I stuck my chin up high, glaring at her.

“Listen, kid,” the man said, pulling out a knife. “You either leave on your own or I’ll slit you from nose to navel and watch to see how long it takes you to heal.”

I swallowed, turning to ice. I couldn’t move or think as the man pointed his shiny blade at me. “I don’t think that’s how we’re going to play today, Mr. Vanhutes.”

The familiar clack of a cane echoed down the alley as the Maestro stepped closer, his red hair gleaming, even at night. He stood with three large men wearing gloves and long coats.

“Thomas?” The woman sounded a little like a scared kitten.

“Come, little Huntress,” the Maestro purred, holding his hand out to me. “This isn’t a place for my future diamond.”

I cowered away. “Have… have you seen my papa?”

“I sent him back with a pocket full of coins. Has he not returned?”

“No, sir.”

He tsked, shaking his head as he leaned all the way forward on his cane.

“Listen, Boss,” the man with the knife said.

The Maestro stepped forward, holding a hand for the knife. When the man dropped it into his hand, he smiled that wretched, terrifying smile.

“Come,” he said again, with far more of a demand in his theatrical voice. “We’ll leave the violence for the adults.”

“I need my papa,” I argued.

“How about some dinner and then we’ll practice finding people instead of things?”

I’d never thought to use my magic to find people. That was smart, I supposed. But something felt wrong about the way he watched my wrist when I agreed.

I crawled into the giant black carriage with as much turmoil in my belly as I had last night.

The Maestro didn’t get too close. He whistled a cheerful tune and flipped a coin between his fingers as the carriage shot down the street.

I stared, watching his red mustache bounce up and down as he altered his song each time the horse changed directions.

A different one for each street, it seemed. How strange.

“A deal’s a deal, you know?” I said bravely.

“It is.”

“Well, you got your cane. So now I get to dance in your show?”

“Lesson one, Huntress. Consider your words very carefully when you bargain with a master. You may dance in my show, but not quite yet.”

“I see you never learned that lesson, Paesha Treasure darling.”

I was no longer sitting in a carriage, but rather lying on the cold floor, staring up at the blurry figure that hovered above me. Alastor smiled. Again. “My Remnants have always protected me. Pity yours seem to be broken.”

The only feeling in my whole body was the flesh of my cheek, where a tear slipped free.

And when I closed my eyes, it wasn’t the Maestro I saw there, it wasn’t even Alastor.

It was the blank face of my father, lost in his opium haze.

And this time, I wasn’t sure if my mind had given up and I’d fallen asleep, or if Alastor’s Remnants had attacked again and I was too numb to feel it.

After seven years, the doorman no longer stopped me. The smell of opium in the air didn’t bother me as much either. But the stares, the blank faces of troubled people lying along the velvet couches as they let the world pass them by would always be my breaking point.

“Hey Papa,” I said, kneeling before him. He sat on a purple couch, legs spread apart, head tilted back, with his eyes closed. He could have been sleeping, if not for the way his fingers clutched the end of the hose feeding out of the glass vase sitting on the table beside him.

At least he didn’t smell of vomit this time.

“Treasure?”

“I thought you might like to come home. I made soup.”

“Soup?” he peeled his eyes open, and though it made no sense at all, I felt a wave of shame. I didn’t want to see him like this any more than he wanted me to.

“Mushroom and onion.”

“Put it on the table, Treasure. Your mother will be back soon. I bet she’s hungry.”

“No, Papa. Mama left. It’s just you and me now.”

“Just you and me.”

I slipped my hand into his, breathing through the smoky haze of the room as I closed my eyes and remembered how it used to be.

When sleeping in an alley wasn’t scary and the only worry I had in the world was my next meal.

Such mediocre things when faced with the distancing relationship of the only person in the world that was supposed to love me.

He did though. He still called me Treasure. He remembered our stories.

“Come home, Papa,” I begged, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Come home and I’ll take care of you. You can get better.”

He missed my mother. That was what he always said whenever I tried to ask him why. He claimed he loved her so much his heart no longer beat like mine did.

My papa sat forward, sliding his thumb across my cheek to remove the tear. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing, Papa. The haze burns my eyes, that’s all.”

“Emotions are nothing more than barricades.”

I waited in silence as he brought the edge of the hose to his mouth and sucked in a deep breath, breaking every last piece of my heart. I knew how it would go from here. I’d lost.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he blew out a thick puff of white smoke.

“Don’t forget your soup, Papa,” I whispered, kissing his cheek. Another tear fell as I walked away.

“If I have to watch that despicable mortal for one more second, I will have to find a way to end myself.”

Alastor’s words were muffled, as if my head were underwater, though I was quite sure I was breathing.

But at least this last vision had given me something to hold on to, even if the god hadn’t meant to do it.

I could draw my power forward when desperate enough, sure.

I’d done it before. But, regardless of his attempts, I’d left desperation behind a long, long time ago.

Unfortunately for him, resignation was far more comfortable.

That was until Winter appeared in the room with us.