longer my girl.
I crouch down to help her pick up her things. She pushes my hands away.
'I can manage,' she says.
'You don't need to leave, I'll – you can stay here.'
'You'll leave me in your parents' house? Where everything will just remind me of you?' She bends down, grabs the clothes and shoves them back into her bag.
'We can work this out. I can do better. No more lies.'
Lissa scowls, her lips move as though to frame some sarcastic response and then she seems to think better of it. 'I need time to think.'
'But I -'
'And you have a Death Moot to run. Don't let me get in the way of that.'
Why didn't I tell her about Suzanne? What stopped me from mentioning it? I have no excuse, or I have far too many.
'Lissa, I was set up. I'm sure of it. She wanted you to walk in.' Even to my ears that sounds far too desperate.
'So I could see you kissing her?'
'Yes! This won't happen again… Christ, it didn't happen the first time.'
'Really?' Lissa throws up her hands. 'Yeah, I've seen how it didn't happen. Don't you see? I've watched all this play out before.' Lissa picks up her bag. 'I can't be this person. Not with you. Mum and Dad, they had their problems, and I swore I would never be like that. And I won't.'
'But -' I reach out towards her. She steps away from me, throws her bag over her shoulder. 'I'll come back for the rest later.'
'Where are you going?'
'Somewhere. Anywhere but here. And don't send any of your bloody Avians after me.' She walks back down the hall, and I follow her to the front door.
'This could have been so good,' she says.
'It still -' Lissa shuts the door in my face. I flinch backwards, then grab the handle, fling the door open. Lissa is hunched down on the stairs, sobbing.
'I thought you were going away.'
She clambers to her feet. 'Oh, fuck you.'
'Stay with me, I can protect you.'
Lissa's eyes flare. 'You can't even protect yourself! The prick blew up our car, Steven. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be waiting for a fucking taxi right now! He killed Travis and Jacob, he nearly killed Oscar.'
'But he'll track you down.'
'I'm not a Pomp now. You know that's going to make it harder. I've pulled out of the game. If he comes after me, and if you do, too, you better be prepared for the consequences.'
'You can't -'
'Don't tell me what I can and can't do. You stay away until I'm ready. To forgive you, or not to forgive you. You lied to me. And you lied to me about her.'
'I wanted to spare your feelings.'
'No, you didn't want it to be difficult. And that worked out so well. Love isn't easy, Steven. It's hard.'
I want to ask her why she's leaving, then. Why she's taking the easy option. But I'm the one who has wounded her. I have no right.
She slams her bag onto her shoulder again, and swings around towards the road. 'Don't come near me.'
I stand there, my mouth hanging open. I deserve it. I'm a fool. I can no more touch her now than when she was a ghost.
A taxi pulls into the street. Lissa looks back at me as it stops beside her. Her eyes are hard. Then she jumps into the cab. I watch it go.
There'll be time to make it right. But not now. Now she's safer away from me. I have to believe that. The day after tomorrow, the Death Moot begins.
A sparrow looks at me. I nod at it. And send the little Avian Pomp after the taxi.
31
I'm still in shock on the morning of the Moot. A day of prep has done little to dull the pain. Lissa's taken up residence in a hotel. The blinds are shut, and my Avians have no view of what is going on beyond them. Only her heartbeat reassures me that she is alive.
It took me three years to get over Robyn. I'm not going to lose Lissa.
Tim was more sympathetic than I thought I deserved. Maybe he's terrified I'm going to lose it. By 8:00 am he has rewritten my opening address, and left me to link my speech with some animations I've sourced from Cerbo. I've never used PowerPoint before, but have found some amazing transitions. I'm feeling almost professional.
It must be the calm before the storm. Rillman's been quiet, there have been no attacks, which worries me. What is he planning? Not a single RM has called me. Perhaps they are steeling themselves for the two days ahead, perhaps they are too busy hiding from Rillman. I'd have at least expected Suzanne to ring to gloat, or to apologise.
Only Solstice gets in contact. Reckons he might have something on Rillman, but he wants to follow it up first. I talk to him about Lissa. He offers me some security, two guards. I think about it. Suzanne said she had someone watching Lissa. But do I trust her? Not really. Not after what she pulled in my kitchen. I give him Lissa's address. The Death Moot is going to keep me busy for the next forty-eight hours, and my Avians certainly aren't going to be able to get inside the hotel she's staying in.
Then I check on Oscar. He's doing OK, but Brooker doesn't expect him to be out of bed for another week. I talk to Oscar about Lissa, and he listens, but offers no comment. I tell him I think I'm ready to look after myself, and he smiles. 'Yeah, I think you are, too.'
I receive one call from the Caterers, everything is prepared, that the bridge is waiting.
I walk over to Tim's office, knock on the door.
He opens it, and smiles at me nervously. 'Ready?'
'Yeah.'
He comes over to me, straightens my tie. 'You are now. How'd you go with that PowerPoint presentation. Hope you didn't put in too many fancy transitions.'
'Of course not.'
I grasp his hand and we shift onto the Kurilpa Bridge.
And here it is. Everything has been set up for this moment. This Moot. The bridge is just wide enough for our marquees. It certainly wouldn't be in the mortal realm, not if you needed to accommodate all the pedestrian traffic as well. The marquees are worth the rather large amount of money we paid for them. As is the lighting, and the aircon, which is keeping the space to a comfortable twenty-five degrees.
The Orcus sits around the table, each in their throne. Li An smiles at me. Kiri nods. Anna Kranski gives me a little salute. Devesh Singh is mumbling into his coffee. Charlie Top, now Middle and South Africa's RM, is tweeting like mad on his phone. Suzanne is sitting at the other end of the long table, a coffee by her side.
Here we talk as equals. And we're all looking a bit ridiculous. I've bought them all Akubras to wear – it seems the thing at these international conferences. I want to laugh but the Hungry Death bubbles beneath my skin, whispering to its eleven selves, calling them, and they call back. Its presence has never manifested itself so strongly before. I find it quite terrifying, and a relief that it's not just focussed in one person.
How could you handle all that hunger and not go insane?
En masse there is a density and a gravity about the RMs that is impressive. I can't quite believe that I share it. Neill's absence is a void that can't be ignored, though no one is talking about it. That will come later, I
