Page 93 of Pareidolia

As slow as my heartbeat.

And then they go still.

CHAPTER 37

NOX

No.

No, no, no.

Nononononono.

The word echoes in my head over and over again, taking the place of the heartbeat I should be hearing.

Aspen’s heart isn’t beating. I can see it in his chest, see the black liquid I poured into him trying to wrap around it, to bring it back to me. To bring him back to me.

But all I can hear is that word.

“No,” I growl, but it isn’t enough. The word isn’t enough.

The shadows aren’t enough.

Aspen is dead at my feet, and I can’t just will him back to life with a syllable that plays poor mockery to the missing beat of his heart.

“Aspen…” The thread that spilled between us is dim now—not solid. It’s nothing but a shadow, and I can feel all the pieces of me that I put into his body trying to climb their way out to save themselves from following him to the grave.

No.

My claws find the edge of his wound and tear—I peel his chest open like I’m looking for proof that Aspen is still somewhere inside, hidden behind ribs and a shredded heart… but he isn’t there.

His eyes are lifeless, the color already going flat.

I wrap my fingers around his heart and pull it carefully from his chest… then bring my bloody fingertips to my own and carve myself open where the bullet wounds are trying to heal.

His body is too human—even the shadows inside him aren’t enough to fix what’s broken.

My body is not. I’m nearly whole again.

Aspen needs my body—he needs my strength.

I let the black blood from my wound fill the cavity I left behind as I claw myself again, ripping, tearing away flesh and shadow, cracking bone until I find the place where a heart would be if I had one.

The place that Aspen has always echoed inside me since that first time I tasted him.

I place his shredded heart in the darkness there and bleed myself out into his chest in return, willing my strength to take on his weakness.

His humanity in my center—my shadows to replace his heart.

For a moment there’s nothing but silence and Aspen’s dead eyes. The wet drip drip drip of my blood spattering into his chest and the sound of Noah Daniels breathing quietly in the corner.

There’s nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing…

And then a streak of pain that feels like an arrow shooting straight through my center.