The smoke begins to lighten. It’s turning to grey where it spills from Sunday now. And as I keep watching, it turns white, and I know that where the smoke turns white, that is where the Horseman ends and Sunday begins. I just have to get the timing right.
I move my gaze to the tip of the crystal. Black smoke is still being sucked in and grey smoke is wrapped around the tip now. I watch the smoke carefully. It does two full rotations of the crystal’s tip in two looping circles and then it goes inside of it. I keep watching until the grey lightens and the smoke dancing around the crystal is white.
I stare at the tip of the crystal and the second the last of the grey is sucked up, I jerk the crystal away from Sunday’s neck. The spear fights me, but I yank it hard and it finally slips away from him. The pink light extinguishes and I hear the spear clatter to the ground as it falls from my hands.
The white smoke floats on the air for a moment, seemingly lost, and then it begins to pour back into Sunday through the slit in his throat. I fall to my knees and take Sunday’s hand in mine. Jinx and I look at each other over Sunday’s body. His eyes look wild, panic-stricken, and I know mine hold the exact same trapped expression.
The last wisp of white smoke drops back into Sunday’s throat. Instantly, the wound begins to bleed again, and I know I screwed up. I might have saved Sunday’s soul, but I can’t save his life. Rye and Mel, our healers, are both drugged up and unconscious. And Nexus could never get here quickly enough to fix this.
“You did your best, Sailor,” Jinx says quietly, as though he read my mind.
He doesn’t need to be able to read my mind to know what’s going through it. It’s written all over my face. I killed Sunday.
“My best wasn’t good enough,” I say back in a voice so broken I don’t recognize it as my own.
Jinx doesn’t reply. What can he say at this point that would make me feel better? Precisely what he has said. Nothing.
The trail of blood from Sunday slows down and stops. He bled out right here on the ground in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to save him. In the end, Paradox or not, I was powerless to help Sunday.
“I’m so sorry, Sunday,” I whisper.
I reach out to stroke his face. His cheek is still warm. I expected it to be cold somehow. The warmth tricks me into believing he’s still alive, but I know it’s a lie, just something I’m telling myself to make myself feel better.
I close my eyes as tears begin to run down my cheeks.
“Sailor? Look,” Jinx exclaims.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see. But Jinx sounds happy rather than sad, excited rather than agitated. I force myself to open my eyes. I can’t bring myself to look at Sunday, so I look at Jinx instead. His eyes slip away from Sunday and fix themselves on me.
“Sails, you have to see this,” he says, nodding towards Sunday.
I shake my head and Jinx reaches up and touches my cheek. He gently pushes my face towards Sunday and I don’t resist him. I killed his best friend. If he wants me to look at him, I at least owe him that much.
I feel my heart slam in my chest when I finally dare to look at Sunday. The wound in his throat is slowly but surely knitting itself together before my eyes.
“He’s going to be okay, Sails. You saved him,” Jinx says.
He’s half laughing and half crying, and when he reaches over Sunday and grabs my face in his hands and kisses my forehead, I don’t stop him. It’s not Jinx being Jinx. It’s a thank you that he can’t put into words.
The wound is slow to heal, but it’s not like we’re in any hurry now. The Horseman is gone and we have as long as it takes for Sunday to recover. Finally, the last piece of skin knits together. There is no mark left on his skin; it’s not even red. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed his throat had been slit just moments ago.
For a moment, nothing happens. Sunday is laid out flat, his eyes still closed, but then I see it. A tiny flicker of movement in Sunday’s chest that slowly grows into deep, even breaths.
“Sailor?” Jinx says. “Are we sure the Horseman is gone?”
I nod firmly.
“Certain. I felt him leave,” I say, showing him my tattoo, where only two crows remain on the dead branch.
Jinx doesn’t press me for proof or for more information, he just nods his head, accepting my answer. I reach out and brush my fingers lightly over Sunday’s face.
“Sunday? Can you hear me?” I say quietly.
His eyes open and he blinks a few times. Relief floods me. I did it. I saved him.
“Thank you, Sailor. I knew you could do it,” Sunday says with a warm smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: FAMILY TIES
Jinx, Sunday, and I sit on the couch in the game room waiting for the drugs to wear off the others. We sat up all night, talking and celebrating. I can hear movement upstairs now and I know the others are starting to stir. We have a lot to tell them.
Jinx gets up.
“I’ll go get the coffee on,” he says. “I figure we’re all going to need it.”
By the time the coffee is ready, Aziza and Ya-Ya are downstairs. Mel follows not far behind them, and finally, Rye appears. He bursts into the room in a panic and stops short when he sees us all sitting there, looking at him.
“What the hell? I woke up and
