Page 33

Story: Pyre

MOST OF THE people Ruby cared about were here, buried beneath these stones.

To Ruby, the cemetery wasn’t a place of sadness; it was a reminder that all things—pain, grief, longing—eventually came to an end.

The inevitability of it soothed her in a way little else could.

Even Ruby, if she so chose, could someday find peace here, in the impartial embrace of death.

Without a limit to her time, the weight of eternity sat heavy on her shoulders.

The breeze swept cool across her cheeks, grounding her in the moment as she sat cross-legged on the grass.

The cemetery was empty except for her, and the sky above was ablaze with color—orange and pink streaks bleeding into the horizon as the sun dipped behind the headstone in front of her.

She drew in the scent of evergreen trees lining the lot, their tall shadows stretching as the evening settled in.

A throat cleared behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Slowly, she turned and found Jonah standing a few feet away, a bouquet of yellow flowers clutched awkwardly in his arms. He looked like he hadn’t slept, dark circles carved beneath his eyes, stubble growing along his chin.

His jeans and button-up were a surprising upgrade from his usual work-worn clothes.

“Hi,” she said, breaking the tension that hummed between them. “How was your night?”

Jonah gave her a miserable smile, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he couldn’t decide whether to smile or remain serious.

His eyebrows pulled together, betraying the weight he carried.

“Could’ve been better,” he admitted, “Woke up to find out the pretty girl I’d spent the night with had checked out of the hotel and come back to Denver alone. ”

She turned back to the grave in front of her, her fingers idly tracing the worn name etched into the stone. “Sounds like she wanted some time alone.”

“Probably.” Jonah knelt beside her, setting the flowers down gently. “I’ve never been good at leaving things alone.”

She snorted, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Didn’t seem to have a problem with it a few years ago.”

Jonah nodded slowly, his eyes studying her reactions, cautious like she was an animal on the verge of striking.

Growing up in the South in the ’60s, Ruby had been taught to be polite, to be pleasant, to keep things civil no matter how badly they hurt.

Waking up in the 21st century, grief had grown into bitterness, the sharpness of her tongue instinctual.

She shifted, turning to face him directly, her knees pressing into the cool grass. “Why did you leave, Jonah? Why didn’t you ever contact me?”

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He drew in a breath, releasing it in a slow exhale. “My sister died the night before I cut contact. A thermophile killed her. She tried calling me that night, left a few voicemails, but I didn’t see them until the next morning. I was furious. Not at you—at myself. At the TCA for not protecting her. At the world for letting thermophiles exist.”

Ruby flinched at the words, but she kept her face impassive, locking her emotions behind a wall.

“Not you, Rubes,” he added quickly, catching the flicker in her eyes.

“Never you. And not really thermophiles, either, at least not once I understood. It didn’t take long to see it was an infection, not a choice.

” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I was going to leave. I couldn’t handle it—knowing I couldn’t help them.

But the TCA knew about our friendship. And I was an agent, I knew too much for them to just let me loose.

Lucas suggested I focus on capturing humans.

I thought about reaching out to you, so many times.

I couldn’t. Not after hearing your voicemails.

” He glanced away. “I failed my sister that night, and I failed you too. I didn’t deserve to reach out. ”

The wind picked up, carrying strands of Ruby’s hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

Jonah’s gaze fell to the grass between them.

“I understand why you thought you couldn’t reach out, given…” She gestured to her sunglasses. “But if we’re going to work together, if we’re going to be… whatever we end up being. I need to know—do you resent me for being a thermophile? And do you still believe I killed those people?”

“No.” His voice was steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I called Lucas after I left the antique store last week. It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just...”

“Had to be sure?”

Jonah sighed. “Yeah.”

Ruby nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Lucas told me the same thing you did. That you’d been buried alive.

That you were forced to absorb the phlogiston.

And even when you woke up, you didn’t hurt anyone.

He said human phlogiston made you sick.” Jonah rubbed the back of his neck, his expression guilty.

“Which, of course, made me feel like a real asshole, considering how we… reunited.”

“You mean how you poisoned me?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, her tone flat.

Jonah’s face flushed. “Yeah, not my best moment.” He exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands together and searching for the right words.

“There was some kind of... disconnect, after I got the call about my sister. In my mind, there was Ruby—the woman I cared about, my friend. And then there was Ruby, the thermophile who’d supposedly killed hundreds.

I didn’t know you were forced. Lucas made it sound like you did it yourself.

” He clenched his jaw. “I kept imagining my sister, terrified, and in my nightmares, it was you behind her.”

Ruby’s stomach twisted. “Please, don’t finish that thought.”

He nodded quickly. “I won’t. But when I saw you again, I didn’t see a killer. I saw you—Ruby, my good friend. And I tried to convince myself that I was being weak, that you were manipulating me somehow. So I tested you. And that was shitty. I’m sorry, Rubes. I really am.”

She nodded. Jonah shifted, the leaves rustling quietly around them.

The air was cooler now, the shadows from the nearby trees stretching long and thin across the graveyard.

A few birds called out in the distance, their songs oddly forlorn.

Ruby let out a soft breath, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the grass beside her as she mulled over their conversation.

The silence stretched to the point of being awkward.

"He was nice to me," she blurted.

Jonah blinked, frowning as though he couldn’t grasp where the conversation had gone. "Your husband?"

Ruby’s attention shifted to the grave before her, her fingers stopping their movements on the ground. The name etched into the stone seemed to shimmer under the fading light. She inhaled deeply, allowing her lungs to inflate, steadying her.

"That's all I wanted as a kid, someone who was nice to me," she said, almost to herself.

"I know it’s popular to want passion and adventure and witty batter that would never happen in real life.

The enemies-to-lovers trope. I read plenty of romance novels at the TCA when I needed an escape.

But I hated them." Her fingers clenched in the grass.

"Especially when the misunderstanding gets cleared up, and he still treats her like crap.

Like tension or chaos were somehow romantic. "

Jonah stayed silent, attentive, the words lingering between them.

"I didn’t want that,” she admitted, “I didn’t want the tension, the anger, the constant feeling that things might fall apart any moment. I wanted... kindness." She looked up at the dimming sky, searching the clouds for unknown shapes. "I wanted to be cherished."

Jonah's face softened, but he didn’t say anything. Ruby squirmed under his attention.

She broke the silence again, her voice flat as she continued, "His family barely tolerated me, though. I don’t think they ever really liked me.

I was too opinionated, too loud for them.

" She let out a small, bitter laugh. "But I 'made him a better man,' apparently. As if that’s all I was supposed to be—some kind of prop to hold up their perfect son. Still, I don’t think we would’ve gotten married under normal circumstances.

I toned myself down. I made myself quiet, smiled when I needed to.

Pretended everything was perfect. And it worked, for a while. "

"What happened?"

"He wouldn’t tell me he loved me," Ruby said, shaking her head as a bitter chuckle escaped her lips. "It was stupid, really. All I wanted was for him to say it. Just once. I wanted to hear the words 'I love you,' even if it was a lie."

Jonah stared at her, the quiet intensity making her uncomfortable. He could feel how deeply the words weighed on her. He shifted, his voice tentative. "And he never...?"

"No. Not while I was human, at least. But he spent the rest of his life looking for us. That’s gotta count for something, right?"

“Us?” Jonah repeated, the confusion evident in his voice. He glanced at the gravestone again, reading the name etched into the stone: Brad Gilberts, 1941-2021. He read it once, twice, then frowned.

"Then who—"

“I loved my husband, sure. But I could have a dozen great romantic loves in my life, and none of them would ever compare.”

Jonah recoiled slightly, her words catching him off guard. An inkling of understanding dawned in his eyes. Dread seemed to settle over him like a heavy fog, his shoulders slumping as he forced himself to ask the question that now loomed like a dark cloud between them.

"Compare to what?" he croaked.

Ruby wrapped her arms around her torso and forced herself to meet his eyes. "To the love of a mother.”

RUBY SHIFTED, FOLDING her legs beneath her. The sun was practically gone, replaced by a purple twilight, with the first stars popping in the sky. It was a betrayal—how something so beautiful could exist while she sat there, cracked open and bleeding with memories of her little girl.

Jonah sat beside her, their knees brushing, his warmth grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. He didn’t speak right away, just blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured, “There’s nothing you really can say.”

She exhaled, something loosening in her chest, as if speaking her grief aloud released a fraction of its grip on her. “Her name was Andrea. We called her Andy.”

Jonah nodded and leaned back on his hand. “How old was she?”

“Four,” Ruby whispered, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “She was going to start kindergarten in the fall…”

Jonah blew out a breath. “Four, huh? I’m sorry, Ruby that’s—”

She placed her hand over his, gently cutting him off. Talking about Andrea hurt, but it was worth it. Even if Ruby was gone, even if she couldn’t keep fighting, at least someone would know about her little girl.

“She was the coolest kid,” Ruby gushed, nostalgia overtaking her grief. “Always running, always asking questions. She was so small, couldn’t even reach the countertops yet. But she was already a person, a little human ready to take on the world.”

She paused, laughing softly as tears spilled down her cheeks. Jonah watched her closely, before pulling her into his side, draping his arm across her shoulders.

“I used to look at her and just wonder how I made something so perfect.” Her hand traced absent patterns in the grass. “This little being that had all the best parts of me.”

Memories flooded back, so vivid she could smell the strawberry scent of Andrea’s favorite shampoo. She could feel the softness of her daughter’s hair, see the bright, wide eyes full of curiosity and joy. For a moment, Andrea was still there, running toward her with that wild excitement.

The memory shifted.

Ruby’s smile faltered. The familiar nausea twisted in her stomach, the image of her daughter replaced by flames—so many flames. They consumed everything, licking at the shelves, devouring her world. Her heartbeat quickened as the roar of the fire filled her mind.

“She was all the best of me,” Ruby whispered, “And I—”

The words died in her throat, buried under the weight of heat and smoke. Andrea’s screams echoed in her memory, shrill and desperate. Ruby’s heart raced, pounding against her ribs as the stench of burning plastic and flesh stung her nose.

She clenched her fist, crushing the grass beneath her hand. “I listened to her burn.” Her voice cracked, each word forced through the tightness in her throat. “She screamed for me. Begged me to save her. And I could do nothing but listen.”

The dam burst, and the tears came in waves—raw, uncontrolled.

Her body trembled as years of buried grief pummeled her, overwhelming and suffocating.

She sobbed openly, the kind of release she had never allowed herself to have before.

The pain was as sharp and fresh as if the fire had taken Andrea only moments ago.

Jonah held her tighter, his hand tracing slow, comforting circles on her back. His voice was soft, a gentle murmur in her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

The words didn’t fix anything. They didn’t lessen the pain. But the way he said them, quiet and unassuming, made her feel less alone. His touch anchored her, pulling her away from the flames, back into the present—where the sun still set, and the air still smelled of fresh grass.

For a long while, they sat in silence as her sobs gradually faded into shaky breaths. Ruby wiped her cheeks, feeling a strange mixture of relief and embarrassment. She had cracked open in front of Jonah, laid everything bare. But he stayed.