Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(76)

“Are you coming?” Oliver called, glancing back. “I think I see a sarcophagus ahead.”

I scooted after him, giving each of the queens’ guards a wide berth. If they were as dangerous as Milton had declared, then we absolutely did not want to awaken them.

My footsteps faltered . . . and my breath huffed out. “Oh no.”

Oliver wheeled back. “What’s wrong, El?”

“We can’t raise any bulls.” I dug my knuckles into my eyes. “If we do that, we risk awakening the guards. They protect the mummies—that’s what Professor Milton said. So if we touch these bulls, the guards will awaken. We are not pharaohs; we cannot control them.”

For a breath, Oliver remained silent. Then he swore. “Dammit.” Then louder. “Dammit. As useful as your dogs are, I don’t think they’ll be enough to keep us alive.” He stomped toward me, and, yanking up my hand, he marched me back the way we’d come. “Maybe we can find another tomb that isn’t guarded. The bulls were the most sacred animals in Egypt, but Milton’s booklet said he found birds. So there must be some birds . . . somewhere.”

“And if not?” I asked quietly. “You do not think we can win this?”

Oliver didn’t answer me . . . and he didn’t have to. It was apparent in his voice. In his stride. He thought we would lose. That we would all die tonight.

And it had become his problem when it never should have been. He was trapped in a body he did not want, helping a girl he didn’t want to help.

“Oliver,” I murmured.

He slowed, then twisted back to face me. His face shimmered in the glowworm’s light, but his eyes pulsed their steady gold. “Hmmm?”

“Earlier. At the Great Pyramid. What you did was—”

“Is this another thank-you?” he cut in.” Because I told you to hold off on gratitude until you set me free—and now is not the time.”

“But it is the time,” I insisted, my voice rising. “Everything has changed between us. Can’t you see that?”

He simply turned back into his stalk. “You’re wrong. Nothing has changed.”

The glowworms flickered onward, and with a frustrated sigh, I trudged after him. A blinding silver ring of light was visible, and we would reach the ladder soon.

“Wait,” I called, lengthening my steps. I had to say this to Oliver now, in the safety of darkness. If I went outside—if I had to do this in the barren, vulnerable ruins . . .

I couldn’t.

“Oliver, please wait.” I reached his side and grabbed at his elbow. “What you did this morning does change things. What you did to Jie too. I see how much I depend on you. It was never you who pushed my friends away—it was me. And I pushed you away too. Over and over again, but you always stayed true even when I didn’t deserve it. I know that now.” I tried to moisten my mouth. I had to say this. “And I know . . . I know I have no right to keep you.”

The words whispered up from my chest. Over my tongue. Across my lips. I have no right to keep you.

His golden eyes twitched. I inhaled to continue. “I have called on your magic, on your friendship, on your mere presence more times than I can count. Yet this is not your fight. It was never your fight. Elijah made you come to this world, and I . . . I have to send you back before it’s too late. Before you are too much a man and forget everything about your home.” Tentatively, my hand trembling, I traced up his arm, over his shoulder, and to his collar. To the locket I knew rested around his neck.

His face stayed very still as I twined my fingers around the gold heart.

“Tell me how to do it, Oliver, and I will set you free.”

His hand lifted; his fingers gripped around my wrist. “No.” His voice was so quiet, I could barely hear it. But then he took a step closer, and his voice trickled in my ear. “I cannot let you do this. I was wrong about you. You are not Elijah. And I see that now.”

I did not move—though my heart did. Something about those simple words made my pulse stumble and my gut tighten.

And when Oliver’s free hand slipped behind my head, I still did not move. Nor when his fingers tangled in my hair or his forehead lowered to touch mine.

“You asked me how I could speak to your mind, El, and I told you that there were many things demons could do.” He gave a dry, whispering laugh. “The truth was, I didn’t know how I’d done it. I’d never done that with Elijah—and my thoughts had never reached you before either. Not until that moment when . . .”

“When?” I breathed.

“When I realized I . . .” His words died on his tongue, and he shook his head ever so slightly against mine. “It’s our bond. Don’t you see? It’s so strong. So much deeper than what I had with Elijah. So much . . . bigger.”

And you think that’s why we can do this? I asked. Speak to each other mind to mind?

Yes. The word shimmered through my brain, bright and poignant. That is why we can do this, so are you sure you want to give it all up?

“I . . .” My voice cracked. “I want you to be happy. That means letting you go.”

“But if you set me free,” he whispered, “you will lose your hand.”

“I know.”

“And you will no longer be able to use my magic. Or even touch it.”