My knees hit the floor. I meet Tolliver’s gaze. His eyes are wide, mouth working like he’s saying something, but I can’t hear him over the rushing in my head.
The world tilts. I collapse onto the floor, landing right next to the other corpse.
My last thought is how this feels nothing like I thought it would.
And then—
I die.
TheAfterlife
Thirty-Nine
I’ve always known what happens after death, but that doesn’t make the experience any less jarring. Especially because I’ve never experienced it likethis.
I notice the lack of tether first. Every other time I’ve been in the Afterlife, even under the influence of Juliet, there’s always been some intangiblethingtying me back to my body. Some connection, however distant, that made me feel rooted to something physical.
That is completely gone.
I’m set adrift, floating in an ocean of nothingness, no shore in sight. It feels freeing and terrifying at once.
I don’t so much open my eyes as I realize I can see. Sort of. It’s something different than sight, some awareness that tries to mimic it but doesn’t quite pull it off.
Before I can process what I’m looking at, I hear a loud screech.
Ah. I’m on the T. Green Line, I think. Should have known.
Now that I recognize where I am, my surroundings fully materialize. I’m sitting in a seat facing backward, jostled at each curve in the tracks. I look down to find that I’m a presence more than a body. I don’t feel solid, like I’m in a body in the Beforedeath, but neither do I feel like a specter, like when I’ve been here before. I just kind of…am.
Trash skitters along the floor, past my feet. It morphs into a rat running in bursts before transforming back into trash: a Skittles wrapper, then a plastic bag, then a crumpled piece of paper. I feel wind, as though the windows are open, even though they aren’t. But then I look again, and they are.
The car shudders to a stop. I stand with the other passengers. Everyone’s getting off here.
The doors slide open jerkily, and the souls start gliding out. I’m the last one to exit the car. I recognize the platform, but I look to the sign just in case.
Boylston Street
I know I should move up the stairs, not linger with the souls hesitating on the platform. But just like last time I was here, I’m waiting for someone.
I scan the crowd until I see a pair of blue eyes staring back at me, and then I’m running, something like tears falling down my cheeks, and throw myself into my brother’s waiting arms.
Three DaysEarlier
Forty
Three days ago, Poppy and I stood surrounded by syndicate members in the chapel of souls at the top of the tower at the center of Tartarus. I was yelling for my brother as she watched on impassively. If the people around her knew her better, they would have known something was off.
Poppy never does anythingimpassively.
“Dante!” I yelled. “Poppy! It’s Dante! Look, the soul! Do you see it? That’s Dante!”
Her eyes drifted to my hand as I opened and closed it three times. After a moment, I did it again, but the final time when I opened my hand, only three fingers were extended. Then my hand made the shape of an L.
Fifteen rows up, thirteenth soul on the left.
To anyone else, it just looked like I was fighting against my captors as I tried to pull free of the bonds. Just spasms as my wrist snapped and my shoulder popped out of socket. But Poppy knew better. There was always the chance of getting caught, so we needed someone on the inside, and Poppy had installed herself into the Phantoms a year ago, looking for a charm that would temporarily give CJ relief from their powers. We never talked about it—it had to remain a secret—but I knew. And Poppy knew that I knew. And I knew that Poppy knew that I knew.
It was Poppy who realized I was going to get caught. She turned me in herself so she could be there when it happened.
