Nigellus half-rose, then paused. The demon looked pale. Washed out. Almost translucent under the van’s sickly yellow dome light.
“Once they’re gone, I’ll begin transporting the parts of Myrial that will be remaining here on the American continent,” he said.
Alarm fluttered through me, and my gaze narrowed.
“We’ll begin transporting them, you mean,” Edward shot back. “The last thing you need right now is a salt bag splitting open while you’re dragging it around.” He eyed the demon with a frown. “Speaking of which, are you strong enough for this yet?”
“Of course I am, Edward. Don’t be ridiculous.” The words sounded infinitely tired.
I straightened, dragged abruptly back to the here-and-now whether I was ready to face it or not. “Hang on a second. Why should we trust you to hide... parts of Myrial?” I asked, aiming for belligerence and barely achieving petulance. “What’s to keep you from deciding in a decade or ten that it’s in your best interest to switch loyalties and retrieve her so she can be revived?”
Behind me, Rans kept a wary eye on the confrontation, but didn’t add anything to it. Nigellus pinned me with those ageless eyes, and I fought not to quail beneath the power contained in that gaze, even while he was weakened.
“Firstly,” he said in a cold tone, “I believe that my ability to keep a secret has been amply proven this night. After all, I’ve been keeping secrets since before humanity started walking upright. Secondly, given the position in which your Fae ally has just placed himself, you’d do better to be concerned about his shifting loyalties. However, since I have no knowledge of the places he intends to hide the remains, and he has no knowledge of the places I intend to use, your concerns have little basis in reality.”
“Just go, Nigellus,” Rans said tiredly.
The demon’s piercing gaze moved to him. “I will return to Mr. Leonides’ residence afterward. And we will talk.”
Rans made a weary gesture with one hand. “Yes. No doubt we will.”
Edward shot both of us unhappy looks, but he clambered out of the van on creaking joints, joining the demon. With the last of the bags unloaded, the van doors slammed shut a couple of minutes later. Rans and I were alone, with only that ominous sheet-wrapped bundle for company. I lowered myself to sit sideways in the driver’s seat across from him with my elbows on my knees, my face resting in my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Zorah,” Rans said softly.
I poked at my feelings, realizing with relief that numbness was finally beginning to set in properly—because I seriously needed a bit of numbness right now. Scrubbing at my eyes, I sat upright to look at the man I loved—alive and miraculously unharmed.
Miraculously.
Ha.
“This doesn’t feel like winning,” I said hoarsely.
“No,” he agreed.
“What are we supposed to do now?” I asked, feeling empty inside.
Rans’ eyes slid back to the corpse lying on the floor of the van. I didn’t follow his gaze.
“Will you let me take care of this for you?” he asked.
I looked at him blankly. “Take care of—?”
He gave me such a look of compassion that I had to turn away, gazing through the windshield without registering the empty building beyond.
“I could take your father’s body to one of the hospitals,” he explained gently. “Ensure his death is treated as natural, so you can claim his remains for a funeral.”
I blinked several times. If I said no, I’d have to think more about what to do instead. A brief, nightmarish vision flashed through my mind of sneaking around St. Louis with my Dad’s corpse, trying to bury him in secret.
“Okay,” I said, my voice emerging faint and raspy.
He nodded. “As soon as Guthrie gets back, I’ll drop you both at the penthouse and take the van. You can wait for me at his place.”
Part of me wanted to argue—I wasn’t sure I could bear to let Rans out of my sight yet. A larger, more selfish part was desperate to get away from the makeshift shroud with the scent of human blood clinging to it. That blood felt like a silent accusation.
I’d been too slow.
Not good enough—just like always.
I couldn’t save him.
My throat tightened. “Okay,” I said again, my traitorous voice breaking on the word.
Rans leaned across the gap between the seats and grasped my hands in his. I leaned forward as well, until our foreheads rested together. We stayed that way until a flash of magic outside heralded Guthrie and Albigard’s return from their gruesome errand.
* * *
Later, the six of us gathered in Guthrie’s extravagant apartment. The sun was up. Normally after a night like the one I’d been through, I would have been sleeping like the undead. Right now, though, the draining effect of daylight on a new vampire just sort of blended in with the general sense of horribleness hanging over me like an aura.
Guthrie was in the same boat I was, but I got the impression his continued wakefulness had more to do with post-battle jitters than mine did. As soon I could feel anything that wasn’t heaviness, I’d make a point of being happy for him, or at least relieved. He was, to all appearances, free of Myrial’s shadow for the time being. She hadn’t reaped his soul to gain power on the cusp of her defeat, and now she was—according to Nigellus—in a form of stasis until enough of her salt-encased, hacked up body parts managed to find their way back to each other to make her existence viable.
I didn’t know where Nigellus had stashed the pieces he’d taken, but Albigard had hidden several of them in abandoned salt mines around the world. Each of them had taken half of her skull and brain, further complicating Myrial’s predicament. There was no way of knowing exactly how long the ploy
