I ran.
Ishani’s heart rate was strong. Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes flickered open. I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, grabbed my bag from the couch, and pushed past the crowd of nurses in the doorway. I exaggerated a gagging noise, pretending I was about to faint. They didn’t know blood didn’t bother me. Not anymore.
When the hallway was clear, I bolted for the staircase, my feet pounding against the steps. I raced down, taking the steps two at a time, the sharp pain in my shins a reminder that I wasn’t safe yet.
The heavy sound of boots behind me echoed in the stairwell. “Elizabeth!” someone called, but I didn’t dare turn around. Ineverlooked back.
To survive this life, I had learned a few rules. Number one:Never look back.
I ran until the concrete felt like knives under my shoes, until my lungs burned, and I could no longer feel Death stalking me.Until I reached the red door, my hand shaking as I slid the key into the lock.
Still, even when the door clicked shut behind me, I knew I couldn’t stop. There were too many questions, and I had no answers. Not anymore.
My life in Seattle was over, packed into bags Nemo had prepared for moments such as this—when I had to run with nothing more than what I could carry.
In a blur, I grabbed the last of my things—my toothbrush, a lone fridge magnet—and stuffed them into my coat pocket. My mental checklist was a well-oiled machine. I didn’t need to think about it; I just had to move.
Once I called a cab, I threw one last glance over my shoulder and turned out the lights. Seattle would be left behind, swallowed up by its rain and the dark. With bags heavy on my back, a new identity burning a hole in my palm, I made my way to the curb.
Tonight, I didn’t have room for pain. Tomorrow, I might mourn what I had lost.
But tonight, I had tolive.
nine
ten
Astoria
August 1998
The skies were bleak with the beginning of an August storm rolling through. Even the tepid air knew the thunder would soon sweep through the countryside, rumbling with a reckoning force. My mother’s chimes stood their ground against the wind's assault, carrying a haunting melody that was eerily similar to the notes that hung around Death.
The DuPont estate was vast, its land unkempt by the new owners. Even the gate that once swung with precision groaned as I struggled to push it open on its uneasy hinge. The pit in my stomach grew as I swept through the gates, turning left toward the statue.
It was funny that James insisted we be buried beneath a statue of an angel. I glanced down at the lone headstone, thestone smooth and unmarked. It was beside James, and was of course meant for me. A show of his refute of the Tempest curse.
I could not decide whether to laugh or sneer as my grave, was of course, empty. Either way, he deserved to be mocked.
Paying the rest of him no mind, I walked the length of our row, sorrow etching its way deep into bone as I laid a single flower on my mother’s grave.
She wouldn’t have wanted to be buried here, but James insisted. We were family, after all. His own parents rested just a few rows ahead, entombed inside a gaudy, overdone mausoleum that screamed wealth and legacy.
The warm breeze carried notes of salt and oleander, tickling my nose with a sickly sweet dread.Death.Squinting into the setting sun, my skin prickled with his morose presence.
“Grim?” I called out, the hairs on the back of my arms rising.
Nothing. Only the whistle of wind singing through the melody of clashing steel and weathered wood.
Turning back to the graves at my feet, I knelt, placing the bouquets on the three most important headstones. Beatrice’s name greeted me first. Then Leo. Then Arthur. My children laid to rest.
“There’s even a spot for you…” The deep voice drawled behind me. Grim clucked his tongue. “Pity it’s empty.”
I didn’t rise.
“Why are you here, Astoria?”
It hardly felt like a question, his tone was clipped and accusing. I smoothed a hand down my jeans. “As the last DuPont, I have every right to be here.”
