Page 79 of Wicked Refusal

I crack it open at a random page and give it a cursory glance.

What I see nearly unmakes me.

Pills scripts. Medical bills for ER visits and ambulance rides not covered by our insurance. A calendar filled with doctor’s appointments, check-ups, refill dates. Stuck in as a bookmark on today’s date, a scrawled meal plan catered to special dietary requirements.

My face falls. All this time, she’s been juggling all of this? Mom and Dad’s meals, their chores, their medical needs. And with a full-time job on top of that?

Shame crawls over me. “Ginny…” I whisper, “I had no idea?—”

“Save it.” Her voice cracks with unshed tears. “I don’t want your pity. And you certainly don’t get to lecture me about effort.”

“I—”

“Youleft.” She spits out that word like it’s pure acid. “You said you’d come back, but you never did. I waited. Waited for months, foryears.Every time that doorbell rang, a part of me filled with hope that it’d be you. But it never fucking was, was it?”

“I wanted to,” I protest, realizing how pathetic it sounds even as I say it. “I wanted to call, to write, to visit, but it wasn’t safe. I… I thought you’d all be better off without me.”

Ginny wipes her eyes and stares me down. “Well, we had to learn to make do, didn’t we?”

Suddenly, I remember all the dreams we used to whisper to each other. I wanted to be a doctor, Ginny a lawyer. She was waiting for her college admission letters when I had to flee in the night. I never found out if she made it into Harvard, or Yale, or Columbia.

But even if she did, what did it matter? She didn’t go.Couldn’tgo.

Because I left her.

And now, here she is. Full-time caretaker, full-time employee at some soulless corporate job from her lonely desk at home. Never getting to grow up, never getting to see the world. Like a bug set in amber.

It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.

I’m a bad sister. A bad daughter.

And a bad mother, too.

Suddenly, something crashes into my legs. “Stop fighting!” Eli begs.

My guilt multiplies. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, kneeling to stroke his hair. “Mommy and Auntie got carried away a little.”

He peers up at my sister. “Auntie?”

“Yes,” I answer. “This is Aunt Ginny. Mommy’s sister.”

For a while, Eli stays behind my leg, assessing the situation. Then, slowly, he steps out and walks up to her. “Hi.”

Ginny’s face does something I can’t quite place. It’s too quick—a flash and then it’s gone.

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Mom and Dad need their pills.”

Then she strides out of the room.

27

YULIAN

The funeral is a solitary affair.

Slavik didn’t want one at all—left it written in his will, the meticulous bastard—but Rurik wasn’t so forward-thinking. Then again, he had no heirs, no strings tying him to this world. No one to leave anything behindfor, orto. Why bother with a notary when you know damn well the only people who’ll show up to your death are the ones you sacrificed yourself for?

Not that Rurik sacrificed, exactly. He got a bad break, that’s all. But he was bold enough to be out in the open when most were hunkering down underground, and that’s enough for me. His insubordination, those sharp-tongued accusations lodged in my brain—I’ll let them be bygones.