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But most of the time, I would at least have confidence that Lucas could get through it alive. Now he was exhausted and in mourning. Balthazar, blinded by his own guilt or grief or both, was foolishly taking the two of them out on a suicide mission.
Did Lucas know that? Horror overcame me as I realized that, probably, he did.
I watched him throw on a flannel shirt and lace up his shoes. Dread gnawed at me. Did Lucas think that, if he died, we would be together again? Or was his life not worth anything to him anymore? It was worth something to me. I wanted him to live and be safe and happy for both of us.
Lucas looked like he didn’t care about any of that.
When he was almost done preparing, Lucas paused and went to the small drawer where I’d kept my things. His hand closed around the jet brooch he’d given me—it seemed like so long ago—and I could tell he was trying to take strength from it, the way I always had. Quickly he tucked it into the pocket of his shirt.
Oh, Balthazar, I could kill you for this. Please stop, guys, please.
Balthazar leaned against one of the wine racks, so obviously tired and sad that I took pity on him for a second. Then Lucas said, “Let’s get out there.”
“We need weapons,” Balthazar said.
Lucas, who had never gone out for a Black Cross hunt or even a visit with me without being armed to the teeth, said only, “We’ll figure something out.”
They walked out the door, and I meant to follow—but I couldn’t. About halfway down the path to the driveway, I found I couldn’t go any farther. I seemed to be stuck there, watching them climb into Balthazar’s car.
As Lucas settled into the shotgun seat, I saw his eyes narrow as he looked at the spot where I stood. As Balthazar gunned the car’s motor into life, and they sped off, he turned his head away. Maybe he wondered if he saw something; probably he figured it was only a trick of the light.
Chapter Twenty-two
LONG AFTER BALTHAZAR’S CAR HAD DISAPPEARED down the road, I stayed where I was, looking forlornly into the distance. I had no reason to remain outdoors, but apparently I’d be haunting the wine cellar forever. So I’d be sick of that place soon enough.
“You’re more than a little pathetic, you know.”
“Shut up, Maxie,” I muttered.
“How about you shut up and actually listen to me for a change?” Maxie’s presence became more substantial. The first thing I could see was not her hair or her body but one arched, skeptical eyebrow, as if she were some snarky version of the Cheshire cat. “I can help you, you know. And I know the others who could help you, too. So it might be a good time to stop treating me like something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe.”
“How can you help me when I’m already dead?”
It was a rhetorical question, but she answered. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”
“Okay.”
Maxie took shape at last, but as she became more solid, the lawn around me became misty and translucent. Before I knew it, we were inside the wine cellar, standing near the bed where I’d died.
“That’s a little more like it.” Her smile looked too satisfied for my taste, but she really did have the advantage. “I figured you’d come around eventually.”
“I haven’t ‘come around’ to anything,” I spat. “You guys fought the vampires for me. You won. Either way, I lost.”
“You act like there was some possibility for you to have a normal life. Well, guess what? That was never going to happen. You were born to join the undead. That’s your nature—who you are and why you’re here. Blaming me for it is ridiculous.”
“I think you’ve been dead so long that you’ve forgotten what being alive means.”
Maxie cocked her head. “You’re probably right. It’ll happen to you, too.”
Forget being alive? Never. Forgetting life would mean forgetting so many wonderful things; it would mean forgetting Lucas. And that could never happen. “You say you can help me. I suggest you prove it.”
“Fine.” Maxie gestured toward the little cardboard drawers where I’d kept my things. “Get your coral bracelet.”
“What is it with you and the jewelry?”
“Pick up your bracelet and you’ll see.”
How did she expect me to pick anything up? It wasn’t like I had real hands any longer, only the illusion. Thinking I would show Maxie how stupid her suggestion was, I scooped my fingers into the open drawer—and felt the silver and coral, wonderfully solid. I brought the bracelet up and stared at the hazy reflection in the glass window of the microwave: a shimmering blue light in which a bracelet dangled, apparently suspended in midair. I was too amazed to say a word.
