I frowned. “But that gives him time to find a hideout or join up with the rest of the crazies.”
“That’s presuming he is crazy. I actually suspect he might be one of the second-tier survivors.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d be of little use to whoever is behind the hive if he were a mindless worker. For whatever reason, it appears the red cloaks are as desperate to get their hands on the cure as the sindicati. Why else would they have turned the head scientist of both labs involved?”
“It’s not that surprising,” I replied. “I mean, surely even the second-tier survivors must fear an eventual descent into madness?”
“It is certainly an ever-present threat.” He glanced at me. “Survivors have told us it’s like a black curtain they constantly have to push back.”
“Have you got any survivors working at PIT?”
He hesitated. “We have people who were attacked. Whether all those who survived are still working, I couldn’t say.”
“If they are, isn’t that a risk, given what you said about the black curtain?”
“No, because all our survivors are tagged and tracked. If they go off the reservation—in any way—they’re killed.”
I blinked. PIT didn’t seem to hold a lot of belief in the sanctity of human life. “How, if they’re off the so-called reservation?”
“It’s done via a form of suicide pill that can be activated remotely. Every survivor has one implanted. They stray, and they’re dead.”
“Nasty.”
“But better than killing survivors outright.”
I guess. I studied the road ahead and realized we were close to my apartment. And that Sam was intent on coming in with me.
I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You should wait in the car while I go search for the notebook.”
“Why? So you can run off with it?”
“Sam, I promise—”
“And we both know how much weight your promises hold, don’t we?”
It took every ounce of strength I had not to bite back, not to give in to all the anger and hurt that surged at his words. “When we split,” I said, voice even, “I sold or burned every single thing that reminded me of you and our time together. Everything. Even the damn ring you gave me.”
“That was my mother’s—”
“And now it’s a lump of metal sitting at the bottom of a rubbish dump somewhere. As I’ve already said, I was a little pissed off.” And really not thinking with all that much clarity. If I had been, I probably wouldn’t have melted the ring, because I knew it had been in his family a long time. “I was determined to start fresh, and I have. I don’t want you in my apartment, Sam.”
“In case it’s escaped your memory, I’ve already been in your apartment.”
“Yes, but I stayed outside. Big difference.”
He snorted. “If there’s any sort of logic in that statement, then I’m not seeing it.”
No, he wouldn’t. But then, he wasn’t the one who’d see him surrounded by my things. Who’d later have to touch the same items he’d touched. Who’d once again see him in the room every time I closed my eyes. I’d freed myself from that sort of anguish when we’d moved. I didn’t want to return to it, even if Sam was doing nothing more than helping me search for the missing notebook.
“You can wait outside the door if you like. There’s only one exit—”
“Bullshit,” he cut in. “You have a patio. And even I know phoenixes can take winged form.”
“Yeah, but it’s the middle of the day and there’s a pervert in the opposite building who constantly has his telescope trained on our building in the hope of catching nakedness. I’m not about to out myself as something more than human to him or anyone else. Not for the sake of a damn notebook.”
“Look, I have no desire to invade your privacy any more than necessary, but I will not—”
“I’ll keep the door open,” I said. “Or you can go in and search. Either way, there is no way known you and I are going to be in that apartment at the same time. I couldn’t take it.”
“The woman I”—he hesitated, looking away briefly before adding—“once loved is stronger than that. Besides, memories aren’t deadly.”
“Unless you have too many of them.”
And I did. Many lifetimes’ worth, in fact. It never got any easier to ignore them. Starting afresh, in a place that held none, was the only way I’d learned to cope with lifetime after lifetime of disappointments and heartache. I liked where we were currently living. I didn’t want to have to move just yet.
“There’s no such thing as too many memories, Em.” His voice was soft, distant. Wistful, even. “Especially when it’s only memories that stand between you and utter darkness.”
I frowned and shifted slightly in the car seat to study him. “And is that what you’re doing, Sam?”
His gaze met mine. There was no darkness in those blue depths, no anger. For the first time since we’d been reunited, there was just him, me, and the echoes of all that we had been and all that we could have been. And I knew in that moment that he felt the loss of our relationship as keenly as I did. That he missed it—missed me—as keenly as I missed him.
But I also knew that it was because of the darkness more than everything else that had happened between us that he would never admit to either.
“Who said I was talking about myself?” He pulled his gaze away from mine and turned the car onto a side street.
Frustration swirled through me, even though I wasn’t entirely surprised he’d backed away from the moment. He hadn’t been overly forthcoming with general information, so it wasn’t surprising he was even less so when it came to whatever was going on with him. Because something very definitely was.
We drove around my building several times before we found a space a block away. Once he’d parked, he held out one hand and said, “Apartment key. Sorry, Red, but that notebook is too damn important for me to trust that you’d hand it over once you’ve found it.”
“Fine,” I muttered. I went through my handbag, found my keys, and slammed them into his waiting hand. “The notebooks were only ever in the living areas. They were never in the bedrooms.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, amusement in his voice. “I had no intention of going through your underwear drawer.”
I didn’t bother replying. It wouldn’t have been of much use anyway—he’d already left the car. I watched him walk across the road. And with every step away from me, that darkness seemed to wrap around him again, as if it were some sort of private storm.
It made me wonder if I still would have fallen for him if we’d met now rather than years ago. Fate could be a bitch at the best of times, but even she wasn’t often this cruel. The men slated to become heartbreakers each rebirth were generally decent enough in and of themselves. It was mostly outside circumstances—and the inability to either accept what I was or the situation with Rory—that caused the problems. Although there had been one or two who were either outright bastards or utter psychos . . . The serial killer had been one of those. Not that we’d realized that until it had been far too late for both me and his other victims.
I crossed my arms and stared out the window. Heartbreak might be our destiny, but it would be a whole lot easier to deal with if only fate would clear out our memory banks at each rebirth. At least it would have allowed hope to burn bright. But after all this time, there was little enough of that left.
And yet, somehow, it survived—even if the flame was growing smaller and smaller.
It wasn’t long before Sam returned. In fact, little more than ten minutes had passed. I frowned and watched him approach, a slender, powerful figure that moved with the grace of a predator. He didn’t appear to be carrying anything and his expression gave little away.