by Lucy Smoke
“Shhh.” Haze holds me close to his chest and I feel Thayer as he moves in behind me, squishing me between the two of them—holding me close. At the very least, they are the glue that keeps me from physically shattering.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
Warm lips touch my forehead. Thayer rests his chin on my shoulder. “We’ll take care of you, Cassie.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“Keep your legs off the ground,” Noaz says.
I’m not much for complaining anymore today. So, instead of dropping off the fucking torture device he’s got me on now—another set of railings set much lower than yesterday’s—and shoving my boot up his ass, I adjust and do as he says.
“Good,” he praises. “You’re doing much better today.”
I roll my eyes.
After several more seconds of holding my position as sweat drips down into my eyes, my slave driver finally relents and lets me rest. I drop down between the railings and stare up at the ceiling, breath pumping in and out of my chest so quickly that it burns in my throat.
A dark shadow appears over my face and I groan. “You said I could take a break,” I snap.
“You are on break,” Noaz says, propping himself against one of the railings and looking down at me.
“Then why are you watching me?”
“You’re not yourself today,” he says simply, glancing back across the room to where the rest of the guys are performing their own relatively easy looking exercises—though, I’m sure it just looks easy because they’re doing it.
I don’t know what to tell him. He’s not wrong. And it wasn’t a question. So, I remain quiet.
Noaz stays silent as well for several more minutes. Then he looks down at me again. His eyes, usually so serious, hold a glimmer. I sit up, wanting to get closer. Fire crackles between us as he rests a hand on my shoulder. It’s a simple gesture. Nothing romantic, nothing sensual, and yet… I can feel the heat of his palm radiating through my sweat soaked shirt.
He smiles at me and I blink… have I ever actually seen him smile at me like that before? He’s beautiful when he smiles—even if this one is a bit wan, a bit sad.
“Grief is the price we pay for love,” he says. “It’s okay to love her, to miss her, but it’s not okay to suffer forever, to punish yourself for living.”
“I don’t–” my voice breaks and I have to swallow around the lump in the back of my throat. “I don’t want to forget her.” It comes out, barely a whisper, and Noaz leans down. He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, and I have to fight back the stinging in my eyes. I hate that I cry so much now. I hate that I get so angry. I hate that I can’t fucking sleep alone anymore. I hate that I’ve become this angsty little shit of a person and that’s not who I am. I hate that grief feels exactly like a fear that permeates my skin—something I can never get away from.
“You will never forget her,” he promises.
“How can you know that?”
Noaz pulls away. “Because,” he answers, “she’s too much a part of you to ever forget and, if you only ask us, we’ll make sure of it.”
My knees are weak, so when Noaz stands up fully and moves to grab his clipboard again, I don’t reach for the railings. Even if I tried right now, I know I wouldn’t be able to stand. Noaz doesn’t scold me, he simply nods to the obstacle course of death and looks back at me. “That’s next,” he says.
The obstacle course of death. I feel like I’ve been running it for years now. Maybe this time, I’ll actually get out of it without losing anyone.
Grief is fear. Grief is the price we pay for love. Fear is the price we pay for love?
The words circle in my head as I lie in bed. Thayer’s warm body is curled around me. It reminds me of safety, it reminds me of belonging. I touch his arm, but don’t wake him. I just want to feel him there, and to understand Noaz’s words.
Am I afraid? Is that why I can’t sleep alone anymore?
Slowly, I glance over my shoulder and shuffle Thayer’s arm from around my waist, easing off the side of the bed until my feet touch the floor. I creep to the door and crack it open, looking back. When he doesn’t move, and continues to sleep, I sigh in relief and move out into the hallway, closing the door behind me.
I let my feet lead me where they may, and I find myself out past the lobby of the penthouse. The wall of windows greets me as the moon shines bright through the glass. My eyes are drawn out towards the city. The columns of dusky smoke billowing up from the depths of Steamer Town. The engineers and maintenance staff are probably working twice as hard as the staff that first boarded Tartarus hundreds of years ago.
And all for what? Only for Tartarus to fall? Only for all six cities to fall?
Tartarus. Basra. Corvallis. Bath. Dendera. Arawn.
We are what is left of a ravaged world. Funny. It never seemed ravaged until this very moment. I stand, looking across the darkened sky, mesmerized by the sight—by the understanding of what I know—and don’t hear the footsteps in the hallway as they approach. So, when he speaks, I jump. “I often come here to look at it, myself, when I can’t sleep well.”
I turn swiftly, nearly stumbling into one of the nearby console tables set against the wall. Vincent is tall, foreboding. Despite the small appearance of gray in his goatee, his face is younger—young enough that time hasn’t worn him down yet. He moves to stand against the glass wall alongside me and gazes out across the floating city. No, something else has worn him down—responsibility, maybe. I get that. Lately, it seems, the whole world is sitting on my shoulders, too.
Once his eyes are off me—those dark, intense eyes—I feel comfortable enough to reply. “It feels like I can’t ever sleep well anymore.”
“We both have things that weigh heavily on our minds.” Vincent sighs, leaning against one of the metal structures that break up the wall of glass, but keeps his head turned toward the view. “I used to come here and look out and wonder where she was, you know? She always had a way of sneaking off as a child. Then, she never grew out of it. It was just her nature to want what she wanted and accept nothing less.”
Despite the familiar clench in my throat and chest at the reminder of Kida, my lips begin to twitch. “She was stubborn,” I admit.
He scoffs. “She was more than stubborn,” he says. “She was hard-headed, often reckless, and impossibly… brilliant.”
Silence reigns once again between us. Small lights flicker in the windows of the shop workers, street criminals, and day maintenance staff alike as people begin to rise early for the day. The barest glow of sunlight can be seen glinting off the very tip of a distant chrome building.
Soon, I’ll be in Corvallis. I’ll be leaving Tartarus for the first time—with the way things are going, perhaps the last time as well. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Always dreamed of. And yet, now… it feels like my dream has been crushed to a pulp. No juice left to salvage. Because that dream was one I’d shared with Kida. Now that she’s gone, it feels wrong to want it anymore. Or perhaps it feels wrong because I don’t want it anymore, even though I know she would have.
“They’re worried about you, you know?” Vincent’s low baritone is soothing. “The boys—they’re rather easy to read when you’ve known them as long as I have.”
“And how long is that?” I counter.
He chuckles. “Noaz much longer than the rest, but a few years at the least.”
I find a spot on the glass and stare at it. Reaching out with the nail of my pinky finger, I try to scratch it off only to realize it’s on the other side. “I feel like I only knew Kida for a blink of a second,” I admit.
“Sometimes that’s all you need,” he says, “to fall in love, to lose, but to live a lifetime.” Vincent shifts, and I can feel his gaze move from the windows back to me. “But you know, I believe we were talking about the boys.”
“Shouldn’t Penelope be the one giving me dating advice?”
“Are you falling for any
of them?” he asks.
I freeze. All of me. My chest. My muscles. My bones. Hell, my very fucking molecules freeze over as I choke out the word, “No.”
Vincent doesn’t take his eyes away from me. “Hmmm.”
“Why do you ask that?”
He tilts his head at me. “Why indeed?” is all he says.
Hover vehicles and rovers begin to make their way out into the streets of Tartarus as the hint of light on that distant building becomes more pronounced, sliding down the metal like a golden ray of destruction on a city named for the Greek Underworld. And if Vincent Diamond is Hades, who am I? A lost soul that managed to get his goddaughter killed. If it wasn’t for Kida, I wouldn’t even know half the shit I do—all the stories, the legends, the only education I ever received was all because of her.
“Kida confided in me, you know,” Vincent says, breaking the silence. “Of course, she talked more to Penny than she ever did to me, especially once she got to know my wife. You should have seen them when they first met. Kida grilled Penny about her intentions towards me. I’d ask if you would believe that, but I’m sure, knowing Kida as you did, it’s easy to imagine it.”
He’s right. Kida was fiercely protective and loyal to those she loved—beyond a shadow of a doubt. And yet, somehow, I know that she would approve of the guys. All of them—even Noaz.
“There’s no time limit,” Vincent says with a sigh. When he doesn’t elaborate, I finally allow myself to look up and meet his gaze. The furrow of lines creasing his dark forehead pulls the skin taut across the top of his head. I almost smile. Almost. The way the sunlight glints off the dark skin of his scalp as it starts to pour in through the windows is so normal… it makes me feel like the events of weeks ago were all just a bad dream. If that was true though, all I seem to have are bad dreams.
“No time limit to what?” I finally ask.
After a beat, he answers. “Grief.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. I let the quiet fill the space as the sun rises higher and higher. When the others begin to stir, Vincent straightens, pushing off the wall, and moves over to me, cupping his wide, strong palm around my shoulder. “Let them help you,” he says quietly. “If you do, it’ll be easier to heal.” With that, he walks away.
I don’t stop him to tell him that I’m not even sure I want to heal. I just let him go, and I stay behind—watching the sun. Up here, in the sky, it’s probably closer than ever. Like one giant eye watching the world below us, spinning on its axis, while we hover over the decay of our ancestors. Man, I’ve become morbid.
Bad Wishes
“Cass.” I glance up as Thayer walks in, synthetic cotton sweats hanging low on his hips. I blink at his naked chest, the lines of muscles distracting me from my thoughts more than his presence. “We’re having breakfast, you coming?”
“Yeah.” I move away from the window and trail behind him until we get to the kitchen. Everyone is already gathered—half of them, like Thayer, still in their pajamas.
I walk in slowly as Thayer takes a seat at the table and Noaz dishes up slivers of thin bread slices, coated in some sort of jam. Eating at Vincent's, I feel like I'm eating for two. I mean, Penelope is, but geez, so much food.
"Good morning," Aaron says, sliding over for me to take a seat next to him.
"Morning," I mumble.
Noaz steps up and slides a plate my way. I thank him quietly and start chewing, vaguely listening to the conversations around me.
"–not a big deal–"
"–shouldn't have brought it up–"
"He's definitely gonna drive himself crazy if he doesn’t–"
I stop chewing. Looking around, I set my bread on the plate and perk up. "Where's Levi?" All eyes land on me. Then, slowly, they drift away until only Aaron and Noaz meet my gaze.
"He's not feeling well," Aaron says.
Noaz sighs, giving Aaron a frown of disapproval. "Levi is in the training center, working off some steam," Noaz answers. "He's upset about our upcoming mission. Vincent’s moved the timetable up. We're leaving next week."
"Oh." I look down at my bread. Aaron's hands clench next to his plate as he shoots Noaz an enigmatic look. I push away from the table and move to stand. "I think I'm going to go check on him."
Aaron reaches out and snags my wrist before I make it far. "He's in a bad mood, Rocket," he warns. "I'd give it a few hours. Let him work himself tired."
"How long has he been down there?" I ask. Aaron remains quiet. I sigh. "Did he ever actually go to bed?" Aaron still doesn't answer. "I appreciate the worry, Hercules, but I'll take my chances."
I feel their gazes on me as I abandon my breakfast and make my way into the hallway. I grimace as I reach the elevator, and glance to the side, at the stairs. It's only a few minutes in the small metal box of death, I try to reason, slapping the key to call the elevator up. My left foot taps with nervous impatience as I wait.
The elevator arrives, and I step in, quickly slapping the "close doors" button before I can change my mind. I close my eyes and take deep breaths as I descend. Why am I doing this to myself? I wonder. Before, I would have just taken the stairs. Before I can further question my own motivations, the doors slide open. I bolt out of the elevator and head towards the training center.
I can hear the dull thuds of feet slapping against the mats. I turn the corner and there he is. Covered in sweat, glistening under the lighting of the cavernous training center, Levi looks like a demon. His eyes are dark as he jumps, lands, turns, squats, jumps, and lands again. If he hears me approaching, he ignores me. It isn't until I'm standing right in front of him that he stops.
"What?" he demands.
"You've been in a foul mood for a while now."
"So?" He wipes the sweat off his forehead with an equally sweaty forearm. It doesn't erase it so much as smears it around, making his skin shine even brighter.
"I would have thought after you and Aaron talked that you'd feel better."
"Yeah," he snaps, irritated. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"Why are you being an asshole?"
"I don't know, Cass, why are you so afraid of the dark?"
"I'm not afraid of the dark."
"You can't sleep by yourself."
I freeze. Awkward silence descends. My heart thumps in my chest as I roll my tongue in my cheek. "I didn't know it bothered you." My voice is quiet—much quieter than usual. I don't like it, but I can't seem to help it. "I'll work on it."
He huffs. "I don't fucking care who you sleep with."
“Then why bring it up?" Levi turns away, takes a step and then stops. He groans, flipping back towards me.
"I'm sorry, that was low. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't." Okay, maybe he did. But it's whatever. Everything hurts me right now. I'm a fucking wreck. Maybe I deserve it.
"Bullshit, just take the fucking apology."
"Fine." We stare at each other. Once again, he groans.
"Shit, I'm not—Cass—you're a troublemaker, you know that, don't you?" This time, when he looks at me, I'm startled by the small grin on his face. Just a second ago, he was all dark and foreboding—what the fuck?
When he reaches for me, I take a step back. "You're giving me whiplash," I accuse. "Just tell me what's going on."
He sighs, dropping his arms. "It's complicated."
"So?"
Levi flips me another grin. "Fuck, you're such a troublemaker."
"So I've been told."
"And a smartass."
"It's one of my best qualities."
"Can't argue with that," he replies. "Fine, have a seat with me?" He reaches out once again and waits.
I take his hand, and Levi leads me over to a section of unused mats, stacked in the corner. I look up at the height, but before I can contemplate crawling up, Levi wraps his palms around my waist and lifts me.
"Have you lost weight?" he asks. "I could have sworn you were heavier." I punch him in the shoulder wh
en he manages to seat himself on the stack as well.
"Asshole," I mutter.
He chuckles, rubbing his arm. "I'm just teasing. But seriously, though, I would have thought you'd be putting a few pounds on—you need it."
"It's the stress," I say. "Besides, my weight or lack thereof is not what we're talking about."
Levi puts his hands up, palms out, in surrender. "Okay, okay, you're right."
I wait.
“Fuck,” Levi hisses out the word and tilts, his hands brushing by me to keep him sitting upright as he leans back on them. “I don’t want to go back to Basra,” he says.
I'm not quite sure if he wants me to answer, so I remain silent. I let him work through what he wants to say and eventually, he goes on.
"Most people know it as the resort city, that's what it's known for. The wealthy go there to get away from... whatever makes their goddamn lives so fucking awful. But Basra has its problems. It has poverty. If you don't work for the tourist department of employment, you're almost guaranteed to be poor."
Levi's expression is distant. Though he's sitting right here next to me, he looks across the room as though he's gazing into a different time, a different place, one that I've never been to before. One that he doesn't seem to remember well. I put my hand over his, and he jerks before looking down, as if surprised. Then he looks over to me and his lips twitch up as if by force of will. "It wasn't so bad, really. I was just hotheaded–"
"So, nothing's changed then?"
He truly smiles then, taking my hand in his own and squeezing. "Nah, not really."
"Tell me more," I insist. I like this—this closeness between us. I shuffle across the stack of mats until I lean into his side, keeping his hand in mine as I rest my cheek against his shoulder. Exhaustion pulls at me—days of little to no sleep is catching up with me. But I have to stay awake. I want to hear the rest.
