I’d only come because it was what Shane would have wanted, but looking at the emotional wreckage perched on the bed in front of us, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. As much death as I’d already seen, I’d at least never been responsible for it.
Directly responsible for it, anyway, I silently amended, thinking of the men Her Majesty had shredded north of Los Angeles.
“Did you two come to taunt me or to punish me?” Ishmae’s voice was barely more than a breath.
“Neither.” Silt traded a brief, troubled look with me, before continuing. “We heard that you were thinking of leaving—”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? I know how much being a Cape means to you.”
“I can’t stay here.” For just a moment, fire flickered deep in Ishmae’s eyes. “And I’m not a Cape. Not now. Not ever.”
“You can’t let one accident…”
“Accident?!? I murdered Shane! A boy who was never anything but nice, who was our nation’s best hope as a Healer, and I turned him to ash. What kind of a hero does that?”
“Someone who’s still figuring this shit out, like the rest of us,” I told her.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Right. Because fuck knows, being a Crow is a walk in the park.”
Ishmae lifted bloodshot eyes to meet mine. “You were there, weren’t you?”
It didn’t take a genius to know what she was talking about. “Yeah. Kayleigh, Unicorn and I.”
“Then I almost killed you and Vibe too. You should be happy that I’m leaving.”
“Maybe I should be. Or maybe I should’ve kept Shane from trying to heal you until more help arrived. I could’ve done it, easily enough.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because he was an adult. Unicorn knew the risks, he knew what was at stake, and he thought you were worth the effort.”
Large tears were cascading down the Pyro’s dark cheeks. “He was wrong.”
“I guess time will tell.” I shrugged. “But the thing is… if you run away now, if you take all your power and bury it, what will he have died for?”
“Nothing,” she said in a small voice. “He died for nothing at all.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way—” tried Silt.
“But it is. I appreciate all this, but I think you both should go now.”
“That’s it, then?”
“Go away. Please.”
I don’t know if it was the emotion in her plea that got us moving or if it was the way the tears streaming down her face had started to sizzle like butter on a hot pan. Either way, Sofia and I had retreated all the way to the door when Ishmae called my name. I turned back.
“Is it true that you see ghosts?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“If you ever see Shane’s ghost, could you… could you please tell him I’m sorry?”
My eyes drifted to a point above and behind her. “He knows, Ishmae. He knows, and he forgives you. Now, you just need to forgive yourself.”
I waited for a reply, but she curled up on the bed, burying her head in a pillow and tangled mess of sheets.
•—•—•
Silt and I were silent until we left the building. Then the Earthshaker turned to me. “That was ballsy. I’m just sorry it didn’t work.”
“What was ballsy?”
She shook her head and sighed. “I still don’t know you all that well, but I’m pretty sure I can tell when you’re lying. You didn’t actually see Shane’s ghost, did you?”
I thought back to that moment in Phoenix’s room, when the dead Healer had first appeared behind Ishmae. I thought of the snarl that twisted his pale, freckled face, the diamond hardness of his eyes and the way he’d stomped and raged in a circle around the seated Pyro, like an unseen storm trying to vent its fury upon unsuspecting passers-by.
“No,” I agreed. “I didn’t see him at all.”
•—•—•
The next day, Ishmae was gone.
CHAPTER 42
A week without classes at the Academy should have been the next best thing to an all-day orgy, but the circumstances behind our mini-vacation made it feel almost like a punishment. The crying petered out after a day or two, but a dark cloud followed every first-year as we trudged back and forth to the cafeteria, or as individual students slipped out to meet with the counselor.
Which counselor they were meeting with was, of course, a question very much on my mind.
In that monotonous, seemingly endless week, two moments stood out.
First was round two with Caleb Mikkazi, aka Supersonic, aka Sergeant Sucker Punch. In a normal week, between the communal bathroom and the fact that we all had the exact same class schedule, a quick confrontation would have been all but inevitable.
On this particular week, we successfully avoided each other for almost a full day. But on Tuesday, I entered the common room from the boys’ hall at the very same time that Supersonic was coming in from outside. I’m not sure which of us changed direction first, but a few steps later, we met just behind the main couch.
“Crow.” Caleb couldn’t help but glance at the still-healing bruise on my jaw and cheek, but he managed to keep his habitual smirk hidden.
“Fuck off.”
“I’d be happy to, but I’ve been…” he paused, his scowl adding emphasis to the next word, “instructed to apologize for knocking you on your bony ass.”
“Something you only managed because Paladin was holding me down,” I shot back. “Before that, I seem to remember you eating dirt from a single knee.”
Caleb’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, bright spots of color appearing in his cheeks. “Paladin or no Paladin, if you ever threaten me again, you’ll see exactly what this Jitterbug can do.”
“And if you accuse me of killing my friend again, I promise I won’t stop with just a threat.”
“Oh for
