Page 25 of Ride or Die (The Body Shop #5)

S leep failed to come at dawn, so I ventured back to the crypt and sat with my shoulders against the door and watched Kierce jerk and twitch in his restless stasis, Badb curled in the bend of one arm.

After the first hour, I lost the battle not to touch him and began running my fingers through his silky hair.

Each moment felt like it might be our last, and I wanted to enjoy every second we had left together.

Tears drying on my cheeks made them itch, and my eyes were red and swollen. My damp lashes were gunky, matted, but I had given up on wiping my face with my shirt. I had already rubbed the skin raw, and I would only make things worse by trying to make them better.

The story of my life.

God.

The story of my lives .

Fear Kierce had only sought me out after sensing Dinorah in me kept my mind racing.

I had jumped straight to the worst-case scenario.

To my worst-case scenario. The most terrible thing I could imagine.

But here in the dark and quiet, alone with my imagination, I had conjured an equally terrible fear.

What if the reverse was true?

Stories about organ recipients taking on personality traits from their donors had filled my search history until the battery on my borrowed phone died.

I was an unwitting recipient, but I was born this way.

If that sliver of her was the reason why I had been so drawn to Kierce from the start, even against my better judgment, I couldn’t cry foul.

Not when there was no way to ever test the theory.

I wanted him to want me for myself, not for an echo in my bones.

But what I wanted and what he could give me might prove to be two different things.

Eventually, Pedro materialized and placed his hand on top of mine. He didn’t say a word, and I was grateful for the quiet to let my mind wander through the barrage of new glimmers and glints of thought my brain had purged before they could harden into questions.

I must have fallen asleep wedged between the door and the wall.

I woke with a sore butt, a twinge in my spine, and a dire craving for ibuprofen.

I had also spent the day with my fingers lacing Kierce’s, which left them cramping.

I assume that was my idea, since he didn’t appear to have budged an inch.

Badb, who had eaten and drank until she sobered up, had fashioned herself a nest on his chest in his shirt.

“I should go upstairs.” I scrubbed my face with my palms. “Do you need a bathroom break?”

The crow stared at me like I was an idiot for even asking, which, okay, I guess she was happy going potty on the sales flyers Jean-Claude brought down from Vi’s recycling bin to paper the bench next to her bed.

“I’ll see you soon then.”

That earned me a click of her beak before she settled back down against Kierce.

The others had eaten by the time I made it upstairs and into the kitchen, but Lucia lingered as if she had been waiting for me.

I sat opposite her, ignoring the plate Vi left for me in the microwave, and hit her with an idea that struck me in the crypt.

“How do portals work? Can you open one anywhere?”

That got her attention, her eyes gleaming, and she braced her elbows on the table.

“Portals are tricky. They require touchstones. Maybe not for full-blooded fae, but Mom taught me what worked for her, and it worked for me, so I never saw reason to test another method.”

“You found me in Abaddon.”

“To visit a place, I require one of two things. To have already been there, or to hold an object that’s from there.

A physical item gives my magic a connection between my location and my destination.

As long as the link is secure, I can open a portal to bridge the distance between those two points.

You’re my blood, so you acted as my touchstone. ”

“Ah. I get it now. That’s why there’s nothing stopping you from returning to Ithas’s home for him.”

“Yep.” She grabbed for her mug of coffee. “I returned the fee to Vi, by the way.”

Uncertain what sort of reaction she anticipated, I chose to approach the elephant in the room with caution.

“Out of the goodness of your heart, or because she inadvertently gave you something more valuable?” I pretended to think about what that might be. “Say, access to Ithas’s inner sanctum, which allows you to enact your vengeance at your leisure.”

“You’re clever.” A throaty chuckle moved through her chest. “I like you, kid.”

I liked her too. Trust was a ways off, but she was pretty cool. I didn’t hate knowing she was my mother.

“Watch out for Ankou, if you’re still set on going after Ithas alone.”

“His god blood.”

“He told me I owe him, and who knows what that will entail. He could show up to collect at any time. He might be hiding in shadows on the street as we speak. He’s persistent when he wants something.

Though, if he’s too big of a pest, I can always kill him again and send him back to Abaddon.

The last time, he was incapacitated for a good while.

It’s not a long-term solution, but it’ll get him out of our hair in the interim. ”

“Works for me.”

The only snag was Harrow. He planned to end Ankou.

Permanently. Revenge wouldn’t heal him. Nothing would bring Lyle back.

(Thank God for that.) But Harrow couldn’t rest until he avenged the version of his uncle he wanted to remember.

He was a prime candidate for the job too, since he had no emotional ties to Armie.

No matter which face he wore at the time, Harrow wouldn’t hesitate when the time came.

“So…” I checked the kitchen to ensure we were alone. “Your plan.”

“You’re hell on wheels, kid.” A grin broke across her face. “Your siblings will kill us if we use you as bait.”

“Then I better hope I can respawn in Abaddon too.”

After Lucia and I finished our chat, I fixed Badb a bowl of fruit and nuts to bring down while I checked on Kierce. I wasn’t sure where the others had gone, which made me suspicious, but I couldn’t point a finger at them when I was having covert kitchen meetings myself.

As a matter of fact, I would be willing to bet they were huddled together, plotting amongst themselves.

Arms full, I entered the garage and found Pascal standing outside the crypt, and it hit me. “I thought you were inside with Pedro.” I should have clocked his absence, but I hadn’t been in the best headspace. “Are you on your way to the cemetery?”

For the first week we spent in New Orleans, Pascal had possessed Matty’s body during the day to free up his nights. Nights he spent partying in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, where the Fontenot family owned a mausoleum.

“Yeah.” He leaned a shoulder against the crypt. “I’m off to say my goodbyes.”

Must be nice. I wished I could spend my final hours in the city with friends. But that wasn’t in the cards.

Nostalgia for the simpler times, when my biggest problem was matching a client to a loaner then ironing out the details of their lease, left me wistful.

A return to those days would be more than welcome.

But it wouldn’t be resuming business as usual without Kierce.

Not when I had gotten used to him living with us and pitching in around The Body Shop.

I would never be able to visit Bonaventure without searching for him in its shadows either.

With a hard knot lodged in my throat, I wished Pascal happy hunting and walked him past the wards. I stole a lungful of spicy nighttime air before shutting the door. As soon as I entered the crypt, Badb shot to her feet, spreading her wings across Kierce’s torso, shielding him.

“She’s hungry,” Kierce said softly, his head too heavy to lift. “But she won’t leave me.”

“Then it’s a good thing I brought this.” I rattled the bowl for emphasis.

“I won’t feed you on top of him.” I pushed her cat bed aside, waded up the used papers to dispose of, then laid out fresh ones.

Under her watchful eyes, I set her bowl on top of them.

“Stop glaring at me. I promise I’ll stay with him until you’re done. Will that satisfy you?”

Little did she know, I planned to do that anyway, but leverage was leverage.

With a growl in her throat, she leapt from him onto the bench and started shoveling in nuts and berries.

“Thank you.” He wet his chapped lips. “For taking such good care of her.”

“I’m happy to do it, if it gets me a moment alone with you.”

A faint exhale that might have been a laugh moved through him. “I’ve missed you.”

Leaning over him, I pressed my lips to his salty skin. “I’ve missed you too.”

The temptation to spill the story of Berchem and Dinorah, to explain my part, itched on my lips.

As much as I wanted to purge, to empty my head and make space to think clearly, I couldn’t burden him.

As little as Dis Pater allowed him to remember about his life, I worried Lucia was right.

That he couldn’t handle it. That although he wanted his truths, they might destroy his mind.

But, and it was a big but , I might be projecting what I wanted versus what he would want for himself.

For what he would go through, the damage it might cause, he deserved to have a clear head to process things without pain distracting him. The decision could wait until we removed the bone bullet.

There I went again. Rationalizing away reasons to help him. Allowing selfish fears to dictate my actions.

“We need to talk.” I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips. “About your memories.”

“Mmm.”

Head lolling, he slipped away again. If part of me was relieved for an excuse to postpone our conversation, well, I told myself it didn’t matter.

That I was allowed to think and feel what I thought and felt.

What mattered was whether I acted on those things, and if they were to his detriment for my gain.

“You rest up for now.” I checked on Badb, who finished in record time. “I’ll be back to look in on you later.”