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“What if he can’t call your wolves?”
“He will. No Cana has failed. Some take longer, but they all hear the Fenrir and the Fenrir hear them. They will come. All he has to do is ask.” Isaiah sounded so sure Nox wanted to believe him.
“What if the Anubis has made it so he can’t?”
Isaiah’s smile wavered. “No.”
“Did the Cana who was with the first Anubis ever call wolves again?”
Isaiah dropped his gaze. “He never had the chance.” He swallowed several times. “I—we were too late to save him.”
“Then it’s possible.”
Isaiah tensed his jaw when he looked at Nox. His eyes were the same, but the wolf burned in their depths. “I know Cana. They aren’t like normal people. Not even us. They are resilient beyond resilient. And strong enough to connect to endless Fenrir, not limited like us to the one who chooses us.”
“But what if it has?”
“Are you trying to ask me if we’ll abandon him?” His voice shattered with pain.
The wind shifted, sweeping away flakes of white dusting Isaiah’s knit cap.
Nox shook his head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Even if by some impossible chance. And I mean impossible, Nash. If Luca can’t call our wolves, which in my heart I know he will, we would never abandon him. Even if we could live with ourselves, our wolves would never forgive us.”
“You’re serious.”
“It’s how I know he will call them. They are keenly aware of his presence. They listen for him. They watch him. They wait for him. They’re waiting for him to hear their voices and to hear him respond. They know, Nash. They know and that means it will happen.”
Nox’s sigh frosted at the edge of his lips. “Will he get sick? I know you said he wouldn’t.” He folded his arms on the table. “I’m assuming that’s if he calls your wolves. If he can’t, will his cancer come back?”
“We will care for him, and we will love him at least as much as you do.” Isaiah reached across the table and clasped Nox’s wrist. “I just hope when he calls them, you’re here to witness it.”
“Why?”
“Because it will be the most beautiful thing you will ever see.”
Nox cocked his mouth to the side. “I hate to break it to you, Isaiah. That’s impossible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because nothing in this world is more beautiful than Luca.”
* * *
Sunlight broke past limestone pillars casting shadows across the stone floor where a mosaic of colorful pictures clashed.
Two-dimensional figures, spiraling into a void of what might have been stars. But the paint had worn too thin to make out details.
Luca walked, and with each step, the building fell into focus. Open archways looking out onto broken courtyards melted together until filled with flowers. Large pots colored in startling blue stood guard at the top of the steps. Plants with wide leaves and blistering orange blooms spilled from the tops.
Stale air turned sweet.
The emptiness filled with songbirds, distant music, and laughter.
People, children, animals. Their voices rose and fell from the distance.
Their joy called to Luca, and he longed to run into the streets, where there’d be merchants selling beautiful silks, spices, and gold jewelry.
