Page 163 of Devoured

Even when I hated him, there was a comfort in knowing he was under the same roof. In knowing I would see him at breakfast. In holding my breath before opening the door to his room—my room, our room—and checking for him. In finding his burgundy gaze and that insufferably handsome smirk.

Sin has always been here.

He has always been right here to protect me, to rile me, to watch over me. And he didn’t always do the right thing. He made horrible mistakes. He chose the wrong path more often than not. But I miss him.

I miss him so much regardless of what he did. I miss him for who he was, and I couldn’t watch him burn.

Which is why I hold a sheer black wrap tight around my shoulders and continue across the moist grass. Ash sticks to the bottom of my bare feet. My mourning dress catches on the edge of what remains of the scattered wooden pyres. My hair tangles in the light spring breeze, frail from how much I had to wash it this evening. Frail because it took ten rounds of shampoo to get all the blood out. I sniffle. I clear my eyes.

I almost wish he would appear. Wish I could fall asleep and see him in my dreams just as before, or hallucinate him. My chest aches. That piece of him inside me—that part of his soul that belongs to me—has cleaved irreparably in two, and I hate that I can’t feel his pulse race alongside mine. I hate that I can’t feel him anymore.

I am empty without Sin too.

Still, I keep walking until—

“Calix,” I breathe.

He leans against the turret, his hair damp and dripping water onto a formal black suit as the night’s shadows cloak him in darkness. He looks up, his head tilting as he straightens. “What are you doing out here?”

I didn’t see him after the battle. I don’t know where he went once the faeries were gathering our dead and the werewolves were building their pyres. I’m almost surprised he speaks to me at all.

No matter how much I grieve Sin, Calix must grieve more.

Wrapping a hand around a wooden post, I slow to a stop before I can reach him. “Do you want me to leave? I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding, Vanessa.”

A truth.

“I just—if you want to be alone… after everything…”

He captures my wrist before I can run. He pulls me toward the awning. “Stay.” He drops my arm and slides away, giving us both space to breathe. “I was only surprised to see you.”

“I could say the same about you.” I force a grin that I don’t feel. “Y-your hair is wet. What if you get sick?”

He exhales a short, dry laugh. Because really, how could either of us care about catching a cold right now? “I had to shower. The blood—”

“Yeah,” I whisper, instinctively running a hand through my brittle waves. Though I’ve bathed almost a dozen times, it still clings to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be clean. “I know.”

He nods, loosing a cool breath. “Right.”

“Right.”

He leans back again. This time to stare up at the stars. There aren’t many in the night sky—maybe three or four—but they twinkle as bright as any full moon. Evie was correct; the magic is returning. The North American Court is healing.

I just wish I could say the same for me.

I don’t know where I go after this. I don’t know what’s left for me in this world.

I had to protect my father, I had to send him away, and Sin is dead, and now I’m just… here.

Calix swears softly. Maybe he’s thinking the same because he says, “Do you ever wonder if there’s a parallel universe out there? One where you’re living the life you’re meant to live and everyone you love is still alive?”

I cross my arms as the wind picks up and pricks goose bumps along my arms. “Literally every single day.”

“It feels cruel to survive this.” He runs a hand down his face with a soft curse. “I don’t know why I survived this.”

“I don’t think there’s any real reason.” I turn to fully face him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. “I know this court believes in destiny and fate, but it’s really just random, isn’t it? There are so many different outcomes and variables for all of us. There are so many different ways destiny could play out at any given time. If I forced Celeste to go to the movies the night she was bitten, maybe we’d be at her house right now. Or maybe she would’ve been hit by a car afterward, and she would have died anyway. Who knows? The reality is, somehow a werewolf found her and bit her, and now I’m here. There were a dozen other ways that night could’ve gone, but none of them happened because of the choices we made and, most important, the choices Luca made when he bit her.