Immortal Consequences(117)

“But I’m tired.”

“We have to stay awake.” It was a plea. A bargain.

Emilio closed his eyes. “Promise me you’ll stay.”

“Till the end.”

“My…knight in shining…armor.” Emilio’s voice was thready, barely audible.

Olivier cupped his face. “Hey. Look at me. Don’t—don’t go. I need you, okay? I need you here.”

“I’m…here.” Emilio’s lips curved into a soft smile, though his eyelids had begun to flutter closed.

Panic swept through Olivier as he gently shook Emilio’s face. “Emilio. Come on. Just hold on a little longer.”

Emilio inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes sluggishly opening. “Why don’t…you tell me…a story.”

Olivier blinked in surprise.

“A—a story?”

“It can be…anything,” Emilio choked out. His bloodied hand gripped Olivier’s wrist like a lifeline. “Just…tell me about…your old life. Tell me about…what you can remember.”

“Okay.” Olivier nodded frantically. He would do anything, say anything, if it meant keeping Emilio awake. “I…I grew up in a small town outside Paris. About…forty minutes away from the city, by coach.”

Emilio hummed. “I always…wanted to go to Paris.” He coughed, and blood spluttered onto his lips. “When…did you…die?”

Olivier wiped the smear of blood with the back of his hand. “Late eighteen hundreds. I think. I can’t…I can’t fully remember.”

Emilio chuckled, the sound raw and broken. “Old…man…”

Olivier couldn’t help but laugh, wiping away the tears prickling at his eyes. “Eighteen is not old.”

“I wish…I could have met you…then.”

“I don’t.” Olivier shook his head. “When I first arrived at Blackwood…I was nothing. Just an obstinate fool fumbling through eternity. I was careless. Reckless. Free-falling through purgatory. But then you showed up…” Olivier cupped Emilio’s cheek with a trembling hand. “You showed up and I swore I could feel my heart beating again. Sometimes I think…I think I was never truly alive until I met you.” He pressed his forehead against Emilio’s. “That’s why I need you to stay. For me. Even if that makes me selfish. Even if you hate me for it. Because the truth is—I cannot bear the thought of eternity without you.”

Emilio shut his eyes. He was drifting, slowly fading.

Olivier promised himself he’d stay awake. Remain vigilant. Even if Emilio fell asleep, he’d force himself to fight the exhaustion and keep his eyes open. The truth was, a part of him feared that if he dared to look away, if he allowed even a moment of weakness, Emilio would slip through his fingers and disappear.

But the longer he stayed like this, with Emilio in his arms and the weight of exhaustion pressing against his bones, the more he found himself succumbing to the inevitable pressure of sleep.

Because sometimes the exhaustion is too much to bear.

And sometimes promises aren’t enough.

54

Emilio

In a sunlit valley, on a warm summer day, Emilio closed his eyes. He knew he should open them, but it felt so nice to simply let go, to weightlessly float through time and space, free from the shackles of fear. There was somebody calling to him, a voice he knew well, a voice that he loved. He wanted to tell the voice he was sorry, though he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. He supposed it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

55

Irene

She spoke his name and he appeared from one blink to the next.

Draped in his usual black clothing, Mateo blended in with the darkness of her room, as though he were made from shadows, feathering out at the edges. She wondered, for a brief moment, how far gone he really was. How much of him was human and how much of him had been consumed by the shadows running through his veins.

When he spoke, his voice was warm and inviting. “Hello, Irene.”

She closed the space between them, gripping him by his collar.

“Did you know?”

There was no hesitation.

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Irene seethed. “I deserved to know the truth. I deserved to know—”

“Would it have changed anything?” He cupped her face between his hands. “Look me in the eyes and tell me. If you had known the truth, that everybody else would be sacrificed, would it have stopped you from wanting the nomination?”

Irene opened her mouth, fighting against the tears building behind her eyes. She wanted to say yes. That she would be one of the ones capable of throwing it all away. That she’d rather cross over to the Other Side than live with the knowledge that her victory came at the price of eleven other souls.

But she couldn’t.

She stepped away from him, wiping the stubborn tears with the back of her hand.

“Masika.” She spoke the name slowly, eyes on the floor. “She disappeared during the third trial. They couldn’t find her. I need to know—I need to know if she made it or not. If she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything about that.”