Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(89)

But he was wrong. His life was worth everything—how could he not have known that?

“Eleanor.” Elijah spoke my name with an inescapable heaviness. “What you will find will only be fragments of Daniel—good, bad, ugly, or clean. . . .” He lifted one shoulder. “There is no way to know what parts of his soul now drift toward the final afterlife, and if you try to fuse those remnants back into his body, you won’t have a complete human. You will have something back . . . but it will not be your Daniel.”

“I do not care,” I croaked, but my knees were beginning to shake. “I would rather have a piece of him than none.” I gasped . . . and gasped again. The air felt too cold. My lungs too small.

“But would Mr. Sheridan want to be summoned back?” Clarence pressed. “Would he wish to return to a shattered life?”

“No.” Elijah’s head shook, but the movement seemed hazy and slow. “Daniel gave his life willingly. If you bring him back, you will be dishonoring that choice.”

My legs stopped working. It was as if they’d forgotten how to exist. How to be.

Elijah’s and Clarence’s faces disappeared, and the dock drew close.

I hit the wooden slats—my knees, my hands, my chest . . . my face. Each piece of me was broken.

I had no reason to keep going. None.

I could not even utter the words, for speaking them—even forming a coherent thought in my brain—would give it power. Would make it real.

And this could not be real.

Not my Daniel.

Not him.

I would not get to say good-bye. I would never touch his face or hold his calloused hands. I would never look into his grassy-green eyes or hear him say “Empress.” I would never howl at him in rage or kiss his lips with need.

Because he is gone, and I cannot bring him back.

The words flickered through my brain, and with them came the truth. It engulfed me. Submerged me. I had no idea which way was up or how to draw in my next breath—not without Daniel to dive in and show me.

Back and forth, we had saved each other. He had rescued me, and I had rescued him . . . but not this time. I could not save him this time.

And he could not save me.

Because he was gone.

It confounded me. How could someone be alive one moment and then simply dead the next? When I had left, he’d been beautiful and vibrant. When I had returned . . . lifeless and cold.

And I knew with sick, disgusting certainty that this was my line. My limit: I could not take away what Daniel had chosen—not when I loved him. Not when his choice had been an honest, pure one.

“You have to go back now,” Clarence said, his voice a gentle whisper.

I stared at the wood. “No.”

“You have to,” Elijah agreed. “It’s time to say good-bye to us . . . and it is time to end this.”

“No.” My head shot up. “Not yet.”

Clarence smiled sadly. “There are people waiting for you, Miss Fitt.”

“Jie,” Elijah reminded. “Joseph, Oliver—”

“Oliver is gone,” I snapped. “I broke our bond, and he left me.”

“Oh, El.” Elijah knelt beside me, his hand cupping my elbow. “Oliver came back.”

I blinked—and then blinked again. But Elijah’s face held no deception, and when I glanced at Clarence, he was motioning behind me.

“Look,” Clarence said. “Your demon has returned, and he has brought you an army.”

I whirled around.

And a cry writhed in my throat. The curtain was only twenty paces away, and though a battle raged beyond the golden glow, Oliver stood at the forefront.

He punched against the curtain, a noiseless scream erupting from his mouth. Again and again he tried to heave his way through the obelisk.

And tucked into his belt was a set of ivory clappers—they were smaller and less ornate than the ones I had carried. But they were clappers all the same, and the army that raged behind him was one of lithe mummies with swords.

Oliver had summoned the queens’ guards.

“Go to him,” Elijah whispered. “Go back and save those who remain.”

I nodded, and with the power of my own arms and my own legs, I rose. I tipped my chin high and drew my shoulders back, and I inhaled.

But when I turned to say good-bye to Elijah and Clarence, they were gone.

And in their places were a jackal.

And an ibis.

I started. Then panic set in. “No. No. If you have lied about Daniel’s soul—if this was all a trick to—”

The jackal and ibis have not lied, they said together.

“But . . .” A sob shivered over my lips. “My brother? Clarence? Were they ever really here?”

No response came, and behind me, the sounds of battle raged.

Retrieve the clappers, the Annunaki said. Return them here.

Teeth clenching back tears, I glanced into the earthly realm. To Oliver’s bloodless face—to his palms beating against the obelisk. Then I flung my eyes back to the gods. “I will do this, but not for you or your goddamned balance. What I do is for me. And what I do is for Daniel—the one you took away from me. The one I can never have back.”

Then I twisted toward the curtain.

And I marched ahead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE