And then it’s silent.
Blissfully silent.
I’m warm again, the hard floor no longer at my back, the biting pain of my injuries far away. In someone’s arms.
“Kedves verem.” His voice.
My Valen’s voice. He’s alive. He’s all right. “Drink. You must drink.”
It fades into nothing.
A comfortable nothing.
A tender darkness that never ends.
EPILOGUE
VALEN
“You seem to think this is a negotiation.” General Lopez leans forward, his beady eyes searching my face. “It’s not. This is a surrender.”
I return his stare.
Some of the other commanders at the long conference table shift uncomfortably in their seats. My side is barren. I’m the only one here to represent my people.
“I will agree to the terms I’ve laid out. That is all I’ve come here to say.” I lean back, the sun warm on my shoulder.
“You’re aware we have the ability to manufacture a poison to kill off every one of your kind.” The general crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’m aware you have an idea of how to make it, but no way of mass producing it at present. And, if you were to try to mass produce such a thing, I’m certain it would violate any truce we’ve agreed to here today.”
He turns his head to look down the table.
The former attorney general gives him a curt nod.
General Lopez turns back to me. “Then it seems we’re in agreement. All hostilities will end as of noon today. No further action will be taken by either side against the other.”
“I will appoint emissaries to deal with you going forward.” I stand.
The moment I move, their anxiety spikes, the acrid scent of fear heavy in the air.
I ignore it and stride from the room. The boards creak beneath me, the old house in rural Virginia they chose for this meeting deceptively quiet. I can hear the snipers on the roof above and on the surrounding buildings. One of them is chewing gum. Another is repeating the same prayer over and over again under his breath.
When I exit into the sunlight, two of them rest their fingers almost too tightly on their triggers. But they know their weapons. No shots ring out. I don’t have to kill anyone today, at least not yet.
I slide into the military Humvee and close the door. The faint scent of bourbon still lingers.
“Is it done?” Captain Howard hits the gas, the engine roaring as we head down the empty street, no other humans in sight.
“Done. Is this the time when you double cross me and try to kill me or is that later?”
“It wouldn’t be a ‘try’.” He swerves around a blockade, the troops stationed there saluting him as we pass.
His overconfidence will be his demise. But not now. As I said, I don’t have to kill anyone today.
We ride in silence, though I can almost hear his quiet seething. It’s rather enjoyable—all his self-loathing and regret a pleasant background to this Sunday drive.
His desperate need to chatter finally overwhelms him. “You should’ve returned her body, if nothing else. She belongs with us, with her people. Her friends.”
