Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(78)

“He is gone,” I said into the damp fabric. “He is gone for good.” I risked a peek at Joseph.

But all he did was nod. Other than that, he showed no reaction.

And I was grateful. So very grateful. I lowered my arm, and as if Joseph were a priest to absolve my sins, I confessed. “I don’t know why I did it, Joseph. I suppose I hated feeling like I was no one without him.” I lifted my left hand helplessly. “But I am no one. His magic was everything that kept me alive.”

“You do yourself an injustice,” Joseph said softly, pressing the spyglass to his eye and scanning the horizon. “You saved all of Philadelphia without him. You battled spirits, you battled corpses, and you battled Marcus—all before you’d ever met Oliver.” He lowered the spyglass. “I realize the loss hurts, but it will fade with time, Eleanor.”

“But not soon enough. And there is such a vast emptiness where our bond used to be.” I clutched at my belly. “It is like someone scooped out my insides. Like he scooped them out and took them away.”

I sank forward and cradled my head. It was as if part of me had not let him go. As if this swelling in my chest was a desperate hope that he would return.

Joseph rested a hand on my shoulder—a brotherly gesture that was so unlike him . . . but that comforted me all the same. “Jie told me something,” he said softly. “She said when Oliver healed her, their minds met. She thinks it was by accident—that he was so upset by how close you went to the edge, he lost control of his feelings. They poured into Jie—and do you know what she felt?”

I shook my head.

“She felt lost and alone. Confused and angry. She felt a love so powerful, it branded her heart and reminded her why it was worth being alive.”

“But I felt that too,” I murmured. “He showed me his soul too.”

“Ah, but I do not think he did, Eleanor. You felt what your demon wanted you to feel. Jie felt what he could not hide.”

Joseph’s hand withdrew, and I nodded—though I did not truly understand.

Remember this, El: not everyone who you invite in will wish to be there. And no matter what you might want, I will one day have to leave.

My eyelids flicked shut. Perhaps I could understand. He had warned me, time and time again.

“Marcus,” I croaked, “could be here tomorrow. We are made weaker without Oliver’s magic.” I wet my lips and peeled my eyelids back. “We might not win this.”

“Ah, but you forget something.” Joseph leaned onto his knees. “Marcus wants only me. He will come to us because—as you rightfully saw—he wants revenge for what I did to him all those years ago. And so, should it seem that we are losing, then there is an obvious solution to change the tide.”

A chill snaked through me. “No.” I angled my body toward him. “No, Joseph. I will not let you consider that. It is not an option.”

His eyebrows lifted, and the resignation in his eyes was inescapable. “I will do anything for Daniel and Jie, remember? I will kill for them . . . and I will die for them. And so, should our plans fail, it will be your job to make Daniel and Jie go.”

“Go?”

“They will never leave me behind.” His eyes narrowed. “Marcus comes here for me, Eleanor, and I will give him what he wants if it will save the rest of you.”

“So you’re going to hand yourself to him?”

“No. I go into this battle to win. But I cannot . . .” He grimaced and rubbed at his bandages. “The truth is, I cannot face Marcus if I worry about the rest of you. This is a fight between him and me that goes back many years—and it is a fight I pulled you into. Marcus should never have been your problem. Or Daniel’s or Jie’s. Yet look at what he has done to all of you. Look at what he did to your family.”

“Stop talking like this. As much as I may want to blame you—as easy as it would be for my conscience, I cannot lay this at your feet, Joseph. Not for a single moment do I see Marcus as your fault. My brother caused just as much damage as he. We are all here today because of the choices we made, good and bad. Nothing we say or think or feel can change that. So when Marcus arrives, we must finally finish what we set out to do.”

The muscles in Joseph’s jaw worked, as if he was trying to swallow back what he was about to say. But then it rushed out. “Except, I am not sure I can finish it, Eleanor.”

I grabbed at his arm. “Of course you can. You are the strongest one here.”

“Yet Marcus is much stronger than I. My electricity cannot hold up against his immense power.”

My fingers tightened on Joseph’s sleeve. “But you have us behind you.”

“And that is what frightens me most—can you not see?” He exhaled, a pitiful, shaking sound. “I know you think me rigid, Eleanor. I know my avoidance of black magic confounds and frustrates you. But every man has his limit—a line he will not cross. And every man must choose what that limit is.”

“And your line is self-power,” I whispered, releasing him. “I understand that, but it does not mean we will lose against Marcus.”

“But it is very likely, especially with Oliver gone. And that is why I am begging you to make sure Daniel and Jie leave if the battle should fall to me. Promise me this, Eleanor.” He leveled me with a sad gaze. Yet the look on his face was the Joseph I had come to know. The unwavering poise that made him a leader. “Promise me that you will see them to safety.”