Page 168 of The Cannibal

“Spend-thrifting away,” he laughed.

“So we are ready, then?”

“Only if you are.”

“Let us go.” I tugged at his jacket and moved back toward the rig. “We have a boat to catch.”

The moss-ridden trees moaned as they crossed each other above. The stone pathway wove through a city of statues and pedestals. Small candles dotted the ground before the graves, much like fireflies surfacing from spring foliage.

I dusted the leaves from the ground, placing a bundle of peonies and violets upon the grave.

The travel to Warsaw was long, but worth the trouble. I wouldn’t let her rest by a family who did not care for her.

Phoebe Aston-Lis

1867–1892

Katarzyna Lis

1841–1867

Silas placed a hand on my back as we bowed our heads before the stones.

“She’ll be in good company,” I said softly.

“Do we know if your mother’s body is actually down there?” he asked.

“I’d hope so.” I scraped my shoe against the stone pathway. “I have all the time in the world to find out where, if not here.”

He nodded somberly in response.

“Do you think she forgives me?” I asked him.

“I couldn’t say,” he admitted, “but under the circumstances, I think she would understand.”

“Why do the worst people survive?”

“I will try not to take that as an insult.” He cleared his throat, patting my back.

“Even I can’t help but feel it should have been me.” I stared at the petals that escaped the blooms, rolling over the grass. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Because by nature, something wanted us here, to feel for the things we have done.” He pulled out a cigarette. “Hell isn’t real because we make it for ourselves. Our ends were made with us in mind, but sometimes there are things worse than dying, like letting our sins haunt us for good.”

“How do you live with it?” I looked up at him.

A drop of water landed on my cheek, more dotting the gray pathway.

He lifted his shoulder before it fell, flicking the wheel of his lighter. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure you can bear with me for⁠—”

“An eternity is enough.”

The rain dampened his cigarette, he let it hang on his lip in defeat.

“What if I don’t even want to bear with myself for that long?” I was hesitant to ask the question at all. “What if I don’t want to do this forever?”

He stepped out in front of me. As he hovered, the leather scent of his gloves tickled my nose as he held my face. “Then when you want to go, I will go with you. But I will not let you go alone from this world. Ever.” His eyes flicked between mine, his jaw tense. “I swear my last breath will be your name.”