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Somehow, I manage to extract myself from Pax’s kiss. I sit back on my knees and stare at him, at his beautiful, Living eyes. Pax grips the side of my face, his thumb grazing my cheek, and the look he gives me is pure adoration.
“That’s two debts you now owe her for your life, Roman.” Edward, of course, must break the moment.
I’m too giddy with joy to care. Besides, we all owe Edward our own debt right now.
And Pax. And Ambrose. Every one of my ghosts has saved my skin tonight.
“Pax is okay?” Ambrose asks. He leans over Edward, his hand passing through Edward’s shoulder. Edward, oddly, doesn’t seem to mind.
“I am not okay! I am lying down when I should be stabbing. We have a monster to vanquish.” Pax gropes around for his sword, but Ambrose uses the tip of his cane to hit it out of reach.
“Aren’t you hurt?” Blood still leaks slowly from the wound in his chest. The edges of it glow with the faintest traces of red mist, but that fades away before my eyes.
“It’s merely a flesh wound.” Pax grunts as he sits up. “Where’s the monster? He has a hot date with the pointy end of my sword…”
Pax’s words dissolve into a wince as he clutches his stomach. I try to push him back down, but have you ever tried to make a Roman warrior do something he doesn’t want to do? Instead, I slip my arm around Pax as he staggers to his feet. He leans heavily on me – so heavily in fact, that I topple over and bang my elbow on the marble step of Edward’s mausoleum. Tears of pain spring in my eyes, but I’ll take any kind of pain if it means Pax is still alive.
Pax braces himself on one of Edward’s garish cherubs and hoists himself to his impressive height. His face is beet red with the effort. “Fetch my sword,” he demands. “I am naked without my sword.”
“You wandered around the house in that flimsy tunic of yours for hundreds of years,” Edward drawls. “We’ve seen it all. You’re not naked, and you won’t be slaying any monsters in your condition.”
My prince leans against another cherub, frowning as the glass shard in his backside rubs against the angel’s lute. He looks even paler than usual. He did just crawlinsideJack the Ripper.
I can’t even imagine what that does to a ghost, let alone sensitive, poetic Edward.
I tuck the Ripper’s knife and Bryne’s cross into my pocket. I don’t know if the Ripper is gone forever or not, but those two objects are clearly magical and might come in handy.
Pax is upright now, and his wound seems to have mostly closed over. I blink, trying to reassure myself that he is still here, and real, and alive. Then I move to Edward.
My prince jerks his head away as I reach for him, his lips drawing thin. I press my hand against his cheek, feeling the hum of his ghostly presence against my palm. Edward relents, his long lashes tangling together as his eyelids flutter.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“You should not ask me this. I’m not the one with the hole punched through my chest.”
“Not all scars are on the outside, Edward. What you must’ve seen in that monster’s memories…” Fresh tears sting my eyes as Edward shudders beneath my touch. “Are you okay?”
“Please, Brianna,” he whispers, drawing his lips across my hand. “I am fine. Save your pity for someone who deserves it.”
“You deserve so much more than my pity. You saved Pax,” I whisper. “You saved all of us.”
“I did, didn’t I?” A faint smile tugs on the corner of his lips, but it is tinged with sadness. His eyes flutter open, and those dark orbs study me with that burning intensity of his that always makes me feel naked andseen.
Edward has alwaysseenme. He’s always been able to sweep aside the lies I tell myself and find the truth, even when I don’t want to face it. After all, we’re both runners. We both ran away and hid instead of facing our problems.
But how often have I done the same to him? It’s too easy to forget that beneath all that pomp and arrogance is a heart that sees beauty in all the darkest places. Edward’s in a dark place now, and he has been for a long time.
I don’t know how to pull him out. But I have to try.
I cup both hands on his cheeks. His ghostly skin tingles beneath my touch. His collar falls open, revealing the a tiny, round bruise on his neck that’s been there ever since he died, and he has no idea how he got it. His silver cord spirals between us, filling the air with his burnt sugar and opium scent. I meet his gaze and dare him to see me, to see that I won’t lie to him the way I sometimes lie to myself. “I swear to you, that as soon as we are certain that we sent Jack the Ripper back to…wherever in hell he came from, we will find a way to bring you back to life. That’s my promise to you.”
“Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”
“I mean it. I have a name for what I am. I have the magic that brought Pax backtwice. All we have to do is find your unfinished business and—”
“I am beyond even your magic, Brianna.” Edward’s eyes flicker with despair. “Do you not think I have already turned my considerable intellect to figuring out what infernal task tethers me to this purgatory? I was a spoiled prince who had everything I ever wanted in my life, and I squandered it all. I wanted for nothing. I have no unfinished business. That is my punishment, and it is a torture that I deserve.”
Tears leak down my cheeks. “Is that how you feel? Is being my friend a torture to you?”
