Johann’s bird fluttered to land on the marble floor in front of me, beady eyes blinking up into my hood. “Grim Grim. Someone help him.”
“It’s her, isn’t it?” came a quiet, Scottish-accented voice from beside me as a pair of small bare feet stepped into view. Right before Flora laid a small hand on the jutting vertebrae of my spine. “Your wee lass.”
Releasing my hold on the hourglass, I brought a shaking hand to the face I didn’t have, covering the sockets in my skull because I couldn’t currently close my eyes.
“I can’t do this,” I told them. “Ican’tlet her die.”
“Because you’ve come to care for the girl…” Johann said, his voice inflecting downward, both like he knew it to be true and, even worse… like he understood.
“Because,” I corrected, the truth hitting me full-on in the same moment I spoke the words aloud, “I’m in love with her.”
39HELENA
Thisalwayshappened. Every single time and without fail.
I should learn not to be surprised. It wasn’t like I was a stranger to being ghosted—punnotintended.
This time, though…
The silence from Grim. Ironically, it threatened to kill me.
Three weeks. Forthree weeksI hadn’t heard anything from him. No random midnight calls, no drop-ins. Not so much as a text. Thoughdidhe text?
Didn’t matter. He knew how to find me.
When Thanksgiving arrived, I went home the Wednesday before, though I didn’t dare fly.
Being a Fated meant that I was, well,fatedto die. And I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Grim—not before he’d vanished from the stratosphere, my stratosphere at least—if that meant I could potentially put others at risk.
So far, my close calls had been solo events. All the same, I couldn’t bring myself to board a plane or bus. Not without knowing for sure.
While I could have rented a car, I took The Judge. Somehow, though I wasn’t sure quite how, I felt safer in it—even though I wasn’t really.
Fate, if it truly was still on its way, would likely not care what space I occupied.
Or whose car…
Surely, Grim wouldn’t have lent it to me in the first place if he was worried about his ride getting taken out with me. And maybethat’swhy I felt safer in The Judge.
During my three-day stay with my parents, my possession of the car (along with my more-somber-than-usual demeanor) had spurred a lot of questions, which I’d fielded okay.
Mycar? It just needed repairs—technically not a lie.
This car? Oh, I’d borrowed The Judge from a friend—no, he wasn’t my boyfriend.
That partwasjust pretend… wasn’t it?
Yes, the car was fine for a three-and-a-half-hour drive. Yes, both ways.
No, surprisingly it didn’t guzzle as much gas as you’d think.
Yes, I was all right.
Yes, I was sure.
No, I didn’t want more pie.
Of course everything was all right at work.
