Page 71 of Sorrow & Strangers

I study his face, and I can see the smallest glimmer of relief. “Thank you, Rafe, for giving us time.”

“You needed it.” Rafe yawns. Being awake for so long while he’s still healing is obviously taking its toll on him. “Was Uncle Lu here?”

I tense and frown, not liking the nickname and how his voice softened a little. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Rafe yawns again. “So tired . . .” His eyes drift closed. “He’s not . . . that bad. It’s just an act . . .” He slumps forward, falling asleep against my shoulder.

Not that bad? He’s the devil, for fuck’s sake. He tried to take Rafe.

Gently, I ease him back onto the bed and press a kiss to his head. He starts to snore softly, and it reminds me so much of Connor, how he looked when he was asleep. Rafe makes the same small noises that Connor used to. I close my eyes, taking a moment to allow the memories to both cut and soothe.

Taking a deep breath, I pull myself from the past and redo his runes before going downstairs to see Alice. She’s still in the kitchen and is poking a very pink slab of meat with a fork.

“Hmm,” she says as she ponders it like it’s one of the greatest mysteries of the universe.

“What’s up?”

She glances at me and then back at the meat, poking it again. “I don’t know how to make it nicer.” She purses her lips. “It’s weird to just give him raw steak.”

“He’s gone back to sleep anyway,” I say, leaning against the counter.

Warmth floods my heart. My violent, chaotic best friend may be the best of us. After Connor died, Alice learned how to cook, trying to entice me to eat. Now, she’s obviously looked up demon diets and is attempting to source food that will be palatable to Rafe as he transitions.

“How is he?” she asks, putting the fork down and wiping her hands on a towel.

“He’s still hurting, but he’s going to be fine.”

“And you? Are you going to be fine?”

I look at her, letting her see my resolve. “We all are. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alice pulls me into a hug. “We are going to make sure of it,” she says, once again easing the burden.

My arms tighten around her, holding her close. “I don’t care who I need to destroy to ensure it,” I say, my voice hard.

Alice pulls back, obviously hearing the edge in my tone. “None of that self-sacrificing shit, you hear me?”

I sigh. “My head is spinning from the last twenty-four hours.”

“What else is going on?” she asks.

“Other than the berserker I’m fucking, my dead fiancé, a Fallen angel, and a stalker?” Alice gives me a soft smile, her eyes filled with understanding. “It’s just been a tough couple of days. Tough few months, actually.”

Alice exhales, her shoulders lowering beneath her own burdens. “It has.” I look away, and she squeezes me. “Hey. I know I’m not good at this⁠—”

“You are perfect. You’ve been perfect,” I interrupt.

“So are you,” she says and steps back.

I shake my head. “I’ve been a mess. Still am a mess.”

“And?” Alice asks, sounding vaguely affronted. “What’s wrong with being a mess? Normal is an illusion we all pretend is attainable. What’s normal to us is chaos to the fly,” she says, sounding wiser than she ever has.

“Is that a . . . proverb?” I ask, slightly taken aback.

She shrugs. “But if you ask me, I’d rather be a spider. A venomous one. Gigantic. Man-eating. Like the ones they have in Aztlan.” Alice hisses and brings her hands to her mouth, hooking her fingers to make it look like her fangs are elongated.

I can’t help but laugh. My best friend in the world runs deeper than she likes to let on, and she always knows exactly what I need to hear.