by Cecily White
The air had gotten heavy, and my head buzzed like a dead radio station. For the record, I hate crying. It just seems so unproductive and lame—random water shed over some stupid emotion, you know? But for whatever reason, lying there now, tears burned behind my nose and stung my eyes.
This was weird. My whole life, I’d struggled not to be too human. Mostly because Mom and Dad had chosen that life, and I needed to make my own decision. In the Guardian world, humanity equated to weakness and helplessness. Humans were the ones we’d been created to protect—the children of impulse and hedonism. But we were warriors. We weren’t supposed to get caught up in the indulgence of human emotion.
Carefully, so as not to make my brain combust, I sat up in Bertle’s attic bed.
It’s not that this didn’t feel good, hanging out with Dad and Lisa. It totally did. The only problem was that whatever had happened to the rest of the world, it was ultimately my fault. I owed it to them to go face them in person.
“I need to go.”
I swung my feet to the side, working my way out of the bed. Predictably, the covers got tangled at my feet, but I managed to kick them away before face-planting on the Oriental rug.
“Baby, wait,” Dad said. “There’s more you should know.”
“Tell me later.” I squeezed Lisa’s hand and gave Dad a kiss on the cheek. “I need to see Jack.”
“Yeah, but—Amelie, wait.” Lisa’s voice faded as I shut the trapdoor. I didn’t bother locking it behind me, but I did pause a moment, just out of earshot.
I had to collect myself.
The world wasn’t the same place anymore—no more demons, no more wars, no more interdimensional battles. I could spend the rest of my life with Jack, facing better than average odds that we wouldn’t end up getting eaten by something ancient and carnivorous. Except for the obvious losses, it seemed too good to be true.
Heart pounding, I made my way down the staircase. Such déjà vu gripped me at the sound of voices in the kitchen, I almost bolted back upstairs. At least Dad and Lisa made me feel safe.
Safer than this, anyway.
“Y’all want more tea?” Bertle’s voice soothed from the kitchen. “I can brew some. Jackson?”
“No, thank you,” Jack’s voice said. “You’ve taken such good care of me, Mrs. Bertle. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
The floorboards creaked as Bertle shuffled across the kitchen. “Ain’t no need for that, baby. An’ I told you, y’all can call me Benita.”
Okay, that was weird. Why would Bertle need to remind Jack to call her by her first name? He’d been doing that for years. Possibly decades.
Across the hall, winter garlands draped the living room walls, and a leftover voodoo doll–bedecked Christmas tree preened by the hearth. It lent a light scent of pine and spruce to the normally incense-infested house.
A few feet away, Henry stared at the fire crackling in the hearth, and Elder Horowitz dozed on the couch, half covered by an issue of Entertainment Weekly magazine. Horowitz looked so casual in his tan chinos and gray sweater, I almost didn’t recognize him.
“Henry?” I whispered over the soft pops of burning pine branches. “Hey, Henry?”
My headmaster turned around, a half smile quirked at his face.
“Well, if it isn’t the prophecy girl,” he said. “Judy and I always figured you’d end up in the human sector. Just didn’t realize you’d take the whole species with you.”
I shrugged. “Go big or go home, right?”
“That’s quite a motto, Miss Bennett,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Grateful, I guess. Kinda terrified.”
He smiled, a full smile this time. “Tell me about it. I have to revamp the entire St. Michael’s curriculum before school resumes. Apparently, no one wants to study Demonology anymore.”
“Inconceivable.”
“Utterly unfathomable.”
I tiptoed over to give him a kiss on the head, careful not to wake Elder Horowitz. I guess I could start calling him Mr. Horowitz now. We probably didn’t have Elders anymore, either, did we?
As I turned back to the kitchen, a twinge of regret hit me. Not that I wasn’t excited to see my friends and find out what had happened over the past week and a half, but it still stuck with me. Lyle wouldn’t be there for final exams—he wouldn’t be there ever again. That was his choice, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. And Luc. There would be no more smart-ass cracks, no more mocking my sappiness with Jack. He wouldn’t even be there to make fun of my stupid robes at graduation.
In a few days, when the full gravity of this hit me, I would fall apart. For now, it was all I could do to stay upright, put one foot in front of the other, and keep breathing.
“Henry?” I said, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry. For not being able to bring Headmistress Smalley back. For everything.”
He stared at me for a second and then shook his head. “Don’t be. This was what Judy wanted. Lyle, too. They knew what we needed to sacrifice for it, and so did I,” he said. “Don’t be sorry. You did well.”
I appreciated the reassurance. But really, when you’ve just brought about the end of a species, it’s hard to keep digging for silver linings.
When I got to the kitchen, the first thing I noticed was the silence.
Katie, Matt, and Veronica sat at the table, each holding a cup of tea, though none of them were drinking it. Mostly, they seemed to be staring at Jack, also seated at the table. Dane and Alec lounged in the corners of the room, fiddling with their coffee mugs.
It hadn’t occurred to me to feel self-conscious about my bare feet and sweatpants when I was with Dad and Lisa. Now, however, I wished I’d stopped in the bathroom to put makeup on. Katie, as usual, emanated adorableness in her tailored pants and button-down shirt. Veronica had decided to embrace her inner goth and sported the latest in combat-boot chic. Only Matt broke the stylefest, with his typical sloppy jeans and ripped T-shirt combo.
And not one of them in Guardian uniform.
“Hey,” I said from the doorway. My stomach was already in knots at being so close to Jack. “What’s shakin’?”
Before I could get the whole sentence out, Veronica slammed her mug down on the table and launched herself at me like a teenage homing missile. I had to brace myself on the counter.
“Ami, I’m so glad you’re okay. What in the world were you thinking, throwing yourself to the wolves like that? You could have been killed.”
“Hey,” Dane scoffed from the corner. “No smack talk about wolves.”
“It was a metaphor,” Alec said from the table. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“I used to be a werewolf, dude. I don’t wear panties.”
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
“Probably,” Dane agreed.
I smiled and peeled myself out of Vee’s grip. It was nice to hear them teasing each other. Things couldn’t be too bad if they still had a sense of humor, right?
A few seconds later, Dane came over for a hug, followed by Katie and finally Matt, who ruffled my hair into an awful rat’s nest.
“You scared me, kiddo,” he said. “I thought I was supposed to be the dangerous one.”
“In your dreams.” I knuckled his head until his hair stood up like mine. Worse, actually, since it had its own natural state of entropy to contend with.
Once we’d parted, Katie moved in for another hug. “Seriously, don’t do that again. Things are getting weird around here, and we need you.”
“Things are getting weird?”
“Weirder,” Alec qualified, hoisting himself onto the counter. “Arianna fled the country. She’s not handling the prospect of aging very well. Last I heard, she was getting Botox injections somewhere in the South of France. Annabelle—”
“Don’t say it,” Katie interjected.
“—got eaten,” he finished. “We’re not sure what ate her. Probably demon. Possibly an annoyed werewolf.”
“I admit nothing.” Dane grinned, patting his belly.
“Ugh,” Katie grumbled, “I’m going to have nightmares if you keep joking about that.”
“Who says I’m joking?”
Alec chuckled but kept talking. “As far as we can tell, the vampires either died with the Crossworlds or reverted to human. We’re not sure what the changeover point was—level of evil, maybe? Demonblood potency? Recency of infection?”
“Gross,” Katie said.
“Were-creatures got stuck in whatever form they held when the cracks sealed,” Alec continued. “Sadly, Dane is human.”
Dane winked and cocked a shooter finger at me.
“The rest of the Synod scattered or went underground. It’s basically what we expected. Mostly, they’re on vacation.”
“Vacation?” I frowned. “That sounds like code. Is that why Henry and Horowitz are here? To make sure no one went rogue and decided to hunt us?”
Alec shook his head and started to speak, but Matt beat him to it.
“Ami, there’s no point,” he said. “We’re all mortal now. Synod. Council. Guardians. Crossworlders. None of it even exists anymore. Everyone’s too busy figuring out how to shop for groceries and file their taxes. Nobody has time for vengeance.”
“It’s true,” Katie kicked in. “Mattie and I went on a date last week. To the movies. There was popcorn and butter and we held hands—”
“Oh, good grief,” Alec said.
“—and at no point did demons try to rip out our intestines. It was spectacular,” she finished, excited.
“Sounds awesome,” I said, casting a long glance at Jack.
I couldn’t get over how quiet he was. Like, completely silent, and continually staring at his teacup. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he hugged me? And why wasn’t he looking at me? Did he hate me for making him human? For killing our bond? For using my tie to Luc to get us free of the Nether? For not letting him die?
“Hey, now,” Bertle interrupted before I could come internally unhinged. “Why don’t y’all go upstairs for a spell and give Amelie a minute with her Watcher.”
“Watcher?” Katie frowned. “But he doesn’t even—”
“Upstairs.”
Like any good school employee, Bertle’s voice had a way of collapsing all arguments and sending any attempt at resistance packing. No surprise then when, to a chorus of, “Sure. Absolutely. Upstairs,” my friends filed out. Only Dane stopped to give me another bear hug.
Wolf hug. Whatever.
“Be good to him,” Dane whispered. “He needs you.”
Sigh. Everybody seemed to think they needed me lately. I should seriously consider attaching one of those take-a-number machines to my forehead. It might simplify things.
I glanced out the window as they filed out. Time hadn’t registered yet—night or day doesn’t really impact your biorhythms when you’ve been asleep for over a week. I was, however, acutely aware that I hadn’t eaten in forever. And since Jack still wasn’t looking at me…
“Hey, Benita,” I said, “any chance I could get some breakfast? Or dinner?”
“Sho’nuff, baby. What you want?”
Dinner seemed like the most obvious choice, given the low-hanging sliver of moon and the cricket song outside. They were slow and lethargic, the way crickets get in the winter.
“You got any eggs?”
Grinning, she replied, “Grab a seat.”
I slid into the chair Matt had vacated next to Jack and tried to feel okay about how quiet he was being—a bit like trying to sound normal, except without all the words.
“So,” I said. “Do you hate me?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway,” he replied, looking up at me for the first time since I entered the room. “You were asleep for a long time. They let me sit with you.”
I watched as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tight-weave crochet beret. He unfolded it and set it on the table.
“There’s a matching scarf, too,” he confessed. “And a couple blankets and some socks. They’re upstairs.”
“Wow. You must have been pretty freaked out.”
“Or possessed by an elderly seamstress,” he agreed. “I’m considering getting a more masculine hobby. Something with cars or dirt, maybe?”
Smiling, I picked up the beret and put it on. This one was a mash of golds and browns, shot through with a reddish auburn that matched my hair. “No, this is perfect. You’re perfect. Jack—”
“Wait, please,” he cut me off. “Before you go any further, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I paused, my hand hovering over his.
“I don’t know you,” he started. “I mean, I do. You’re Amelie Bennett. You saved my life. They told me that much, but—” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m screwing this up. Let me start over. My name is Jackson Smith-Hailey. It’s nice to meet you.”
The boy in front of me—the boy I had loved my whole life—stuck out his hand.
I stared at it, unable to speak. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in my brain, the memories flooding back—Jack and me going through the rift. The feel of his soul slipping away when I tried to channel out. Me catching it at the last second and dragging it back to his body.
At once, Luc’s warning returned to me. He’s already gone—this version of him.
In a distant corner of my mind, I registered the warmth of his skin, approximately ninety-eight-point-six degrees. Just like mine. And yes, he had to be human, just like everyone else. But something else had happened.
“You don’t remember?” I asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
He shook his head again. “Yes and no. I don’t remember things or names. The stuff they tell me sounds insane, but I feel myself getting sad when they talk about it. Someone named Luc,” he said. “I knew him?”
“He was your best friend,” I told him. “Total jerk sometimes. Kind of a hero. He loved you a lot.”
Jack nodded like that made sense. “And you’re my girlfriend?”
I squinted at him. Girlfriend seemed skimpy to describe what I was. “I’m way more than that.”
“Okay, good. I felt that, too. When I watched you sleep, it was—” His lips pressed together in an awkward line. “I need to ask. Have we…you and I? I mean, we haven’t… Have we?” He trailed off into a silence so uncomfortable, I could almost hear the crickets.
“Are you asking if we’ve had sex?”
“Yeah.”
I glared at him. “Jackson, if we had and you’d forgotten about it, I would have to kill you. So no.”
He blew out a giant sigh of relief. “Okay, then I just have one more question. And don’t lie, because for this one, I need to know the truth. Promise?”
I hesitated.
Whatever it was, I owed him honesty. He might have been willing to die for the cause, but living as a human, without any memory or power or connection to the Crossworlds, was a completely different task. If I’d done my homework ahead of time, I could have stopped him from coming to the Nether. I could have stopped him from losing himself.
“I promise,” I said finally. “Ask me anything.”
“All right, here goes.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, very seriously, he asked, “Am I a good kisser?”
I didn’t speak. Honestly, I couldn’t speak.
The Guardians had ended, the world had sealed, divine will had finally been done…and he wanted to know if he was a good kisser? It took everything I had not to start laughing.
“No,” I replied, stone-faced. “You’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope.” I bit my lower lip. “I would say you’re remedial. Actually, you’re horrible. Worse than horrible. Let’s just agree you’re the kind of bad kisser that it would take us years of practice before we could possibly get it right.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, thoughtful. “That sounds like a commitment.”
“Years,” I repe
ated. “Probably decades.”
My breath caught as Jack pulled me to standing, his arm looping around my waist, fingers lacing through mine. It was impossible to describe—the scent of him, the touch of his hand, the hum of what could only be described as home. Like every inch of me knew this person, wanted this person. Guardian bond or not, my life was tied to his. It always had been.
It always would be.
“Decades, huh?” Jack tightened his grip around my waist. “Omelet, that sounds like an intriguing proposal. Maybe it’s time we got started.”
“Maybe it is,” I agreed, smiling at the nickname he’d used. It didn’t matter what anyone said. My bondmate wasn’t gone, not even close. And I had a whole lifetime to find him again.
I tiptoed up until my lips brushed his—soft and infinite, with nothing but pure human magic between us.
That’s when my skin started to glow.
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Acknowledgments
I spend a lot of time thinking about love–what it is, what it means, whether it can be trusted. Not only is this an exhausting practice, it is, in large part, futile. Because the inevitable truth I keep coming back to is something my parents taught me ages ago, and something I’m not sure I learned until recently.
Love isn’t about grand statements and bombastic pyrotechnics. It isn’t about jealousy or status or wearing the right outfit or saying the right things. Real love is quiet and self-sacrificing. It’s goofy and hilarious yet completely unselfconscious. It observes human experience with compassionate eyes and thinks about other people before itself. Sometimes it fills your heart so buoyantly you can soar over skyscrapers. Other times it makes you want to jump off them. But no matter how much it hurts us, love isn’t something we can live without.
Wounds heal. Scars smooth over. Hearts keep beating.
My dad died last year. I still think about him every day. Mostly, I wonder if he knew how important he was to me. It takes a great deal of courage to live and love honorably–courage I’m not sure a lot of people possess. (Sometimes I’m not even sure I possess it.) But I know it’s there, because I saw it every day of my life. Mom and Dad, I understand love because of you. I am capable of courage because you have faith in me. I hold on to my sense of humor, even in the dark moments, because you taught me to. There are no words to express my gratitude for you. Thank you.
