Why did Flora keep doing that? Referring to Helena as “my” anything.
She was my guest. Our guest, technically. That was it.
“It makes sense,” said Helena, who approached me. “And it gives me time, too. To… say goodbye. I mean, I know I’m not allowed to tell anyone I’m going to die. Johann explained how that will only make things harder on everyone when I am gone.”
Gone?
That sharp contraction of my soul—it happened again.
I’d known Helena for less than a month, and I could hardly fathom a world without her.
She didn’t know what she was talking about, either. She didn’t understand. Once she got back home, there would be ramifications. She’d have to sit with the problem of her own mortality staring her in the face. Doom would lurk around every corner. Deathwouldcome to get her. And then so would I.
But then… how exactly was that different from before?
Cedric had been one thing. A force that could be stopped. A forceIcould stop.
He was not Helena’s fate. No more than I was.
But I couldn’t keep stopping elevators. The longer I kept intervening, too, the more likely Helena’s demise was to be grisly—grislier. I couldn’t stand for that.
Something had to be done.
If I summoned Sir White, owned up to my deeds, Helena wouldn’t suffer. Or maybe, possibly, after dealing with me, White would simply send her back home anyway. And there, she would again await her doom and the collection of her soul—which, in my absence, still could be delegated to Cedric…
“Grim,” said Helena, and she put her hand on my upper arm.
The smallest gasp escaped Flora, who like Johann and Cedric had never dared to touch me. It was one of my unspoken rules, which Helena had just unwittingly broken.
“It’s okay,” she said. “And… more importantly, it’s what I want.”
“You want to die?” I snarled at her, irate.
“Of course not,” she said, replying with a softness I wouldn’t have gotten from anyone else. A softness I certainly didn’t deserve. “But… I understand now how you can’t keep stopping that. It’s going to happen. And I’m not the first or the last person in the world who it’s going to happen to. I think you know that probably better than anyone.”
Impossibly, my soul cinched itself tighter, constricting to the size of a pebble.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble, either,” she said. “Any of you. Especially not on account of me—”
“This wasmydoing,” I told her.
“And I’m glad you did it,” she said, shocking me. “If you hadn’t—saved me on that balcony, I mean—I wouldn’t have gotten this extra time. And… I wouldn’t have gotten to know you.” Helena’s pained smile faltered, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Flustered, she gestured to Flora and Johann. “A-any of you. Besides, what other option is there?”
The other option—the only otherfeasibleoption—was to turnmyself in, an action that would, if nothing else, ensure the delivery of Helena’s soul would be someone else’s responsibility.
I didn’t want to take Helena’s soul. But then… I didn’t want anyone else to, either.
Accepting this offer, agreeing to this plan—it seemed like the decision had already been madeforme.
But then… was this decision even mine to make?
Helena said this was what she wanted, and maybe it was, but having gotten to know her even this little bit, I wouldn’t put it past her to agree to something because she thought doing so would be in the best interest of others. In this instance, Johann, Flora… and me.
“I would like a word with my companions,” I told her.
“Companions,” she echoed softly as she stepped back from me. “Theysaid they were your family.”
I dared not move. I couldn’t let anyone see. How helpless I felt.
