I yank my hand away and slap him again. At least he winces, and I shake off the sting.
“That wasn’t for you to decide. Just like turning him wasn’t for you to decide. It was selfish!”
But what I hate most right now is that I think he might be right, that Sam did want to trip.
“Stella,” Costa says evenly, “Sam is not in any trouble. He’ll have a good trip, and he’ll be back.”
I try to control my breathing. Sam’s body is still slumped against Costa, and I can hardly stand to look with all the life sucked out of him, but still, I curl up against him and take him in my arms.
“He’ll be gone in a minute.”
I cling to Sam. “How does it happen? That he…disappears?”
“Wait.”
Knowing his death is temporary, that he will return to me, does little to lessen the searing pain caused by seeing him like this. I drop down and rest my weight on Sam’s legs, hoping that maybe my heartache will ease once his body is gone.
“Nothing’s happening.”
“There. Look at his hands,” Costa says gently.
The tips of Sam’s fingers are becoming sheer, like a gel. There’s light movement though, like water swirling in the current of a stream. It moves to his hands, up his arms, to his chest, and down his torso. I touch my fingertips to him. He’s still solid, but the man beneath me quickly becomes a blur of deep colors. Then, like sand falling through a sieve, he disintegrates, and I drop fully to the floor.
“Oh God, you’re not going to cry again, are you?” Costa is busy examining the knife.
I look down and see that my dress is clear of blood, and so are Costa’s pants.
It’s just like last time, I assure myself.It all vanishes, and then he’ll return.
“Tell me again that Sam is coming back to me.”
“He’s coming back tous,” Costa says. “Got that? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Sam. Come on, Stella. You have to know that, right?”
“I don’t know anything,” I spit out.
He puts down the knife and turns to me. “I was just fucking around. Really. Look, Sam’s a death tripper. That’s not changing, okay? It’s not. This is who he is, and if you love him the way I think you do, then you’re going to have to accept that. Death trippers, we want certain things. We need them the way you need food and water. We need to die. We need the rush of death and the rush of the surge.”
“Sam went ages without tripping. He was fine.”
Costa drapes his arms over his knees and rests his head down. I can’t deny that there is genuine kindness beneath his obnoxious attitude.
“If either of you thought that hiatus from death tripping was going to last forever, then you were both fooling yourselves. I know how strong the pull is.”
I don’t know what to say to this.
“Stella, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m telling you so that you can fully understand who Sam is. He’s going to need to trip now and then.”
“He was tripping too much before.” I pause. “Your son…”
Costa takes a long breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “That’s none of my business.”
“Itisyour business. You’re with Sam, so it is.” He runs a hand through his hair and stands up. “Come on. Sam’s going to be hungry when he gets back. Let’s see what we can rustle up for him.”
I don’t hesitate when he extends a hand and pulls me to my feet. It’s odd that I’m relying on Costa to get me through this trip when he’s the one who caused it. “How long will he be gone?”
“Dunno. Depends on where he surfaces. It can be a bitch sometimes because you can’t always control where you come up. Sam’s out of practice, but he should be okay. Generally, the more we trip, the faster we can come back. I don’t think more than a few hours.”
