I blew air out between my lips.
She held up a warning finger again and I shut my mouth.
“But some of the things you’ve done, Shame. Some of your choices.”
“Were awesome?” I prompted.
She rolled her eyes. “For a while there, I didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass. If you’d used magic with Terric—don’t give me that look—if you’d just relaxed about it and used magic together without being so damn determined that it would cause the world to explode, everything could have been so much better. You would have been better. He would have been—”
“—inhuman. Dead inside. All Life magic, no humanity, insane,” I said.
“You don’t know that,” she said gently. “I watched you. I watched him with you. You made each other better, not worse. Just neither of you was willing to have a little faith that you were meant to use magic together. That maybe it would be the one good thing you had together that worked.”
“Water under the bridge, darlin’.”
She took another drink. “You too easily see the world as full of sorrow, and you too quickly assume that sorrow is all you deserve. Also, you are as stubborn as a mule in mud.”
“Whoa. Someone can’t hold her martini,” I said.
“I think your dad and Victor are right.”
“About what?”
“You don’t belong here yet.”
I swallowed the last of the whiskey. “I might not be staying long anyway. They think they can send me down to the green grasses.”
“Even so, you do belong here.” She reached over, pressed her fingers against mine.
I smiled. “You deserved so much better than what you got, love.”
“Well, this isn’t so bad.” She patted my hand and finished off her drink.
“Sure, death is fine,” I said. “But life is nothing but suffering.”
“Not all of it,” a voice said. A woman’s voice.
I looked across the room. At my dad, who held open the door for a woman who had just walked into the bar. Dessa Leeds. The woman I’d loved.
I stood. Suddenly she was the only person I could see.
“Dessa?” I breathed.
She raised one eyebrow. “Hey there, charmer. Didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”
Beautiful in life, but here in death she was vibrant, more alive than ever. Red hair long and silk-soft around her shoulders, she was wearing a very simple pale green dress, short enough to show thigh, and sort of flowing as she walked toward me.
Her skin was moon-pale, her face a porcelain perfect heart, and those blue eyes. . . .
I stopped breathing at the sight of her, and realized that yes, you not only breathed in heaven; your heart could pound so hard it was difficult to hear your own thoughts.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re here.”
She lifted one hand and very gently drew her fingers down the side of my cheek. I closed my eyes at her touch, savoring that connection, wanting it to never end. Wanting her to never disappear.
“Shame,” she said.
I opened my eyes.
“I’m so glad to see you before you leave.”
I frowned. “Maybe . . . maybe I can stay awhile.”
“No,” she said. “You have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because only half of you is here.” She placed her hand over my heart, and beneath the warmth of her palm was a cool hollowness, a blackness that only Terric could fill.
“Your father told me there’s still work for you to do. Hero things.”
“My father has a big mouth and overestimates my abilities.”
She smiled. “There’s someone counting on you back there.”
“I know,” I said. “Terric.”
“Yes. But you made a promise to look after someone.”
“Allie and Zay?”
“Their child, Shame. You promised to be there to look after her.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Her? They’re having a girl? Zayvion’s going to have a daughter? Lord, he’ll go mental over that. How do you know all this? You weren’t there when I promised to look after my goddaughter.”
“Just call it a heaven thing. Okay,” she said, “maybe I was spying on you a little.” She stepped closer to me. I could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body against mine. “Go be a hero, Shame.”
She kissed me and it was heaven.
I lost myself to her. Lost myself and never wanted to find myself again.
She pulled back, finally, tipped her forehead against mine. “Don’t hurry back. But don’t be gone forever, okay?”
She looked up at me and I discovered that even in heaven, a heart can break.
“Dessa . . .”
Two hands landed on my shoulder. Firm. Familiar. “It’s time, son,” Dad said on one side of me.
Dessa stepped back. “See you, Shame. You know . . . that spying thing of mine . . .”
“Da,” I said, glancing up over one shoulder, then the other. “Victor. Just a few minutes?” I might not be a love-’em-and-leave-’em guy anymore, but if the kiss had been that good, I had a list of other things I wanted to try out.
“Son,” my dad said as he and Victor pushed me toward the window that now had a couple of spells painted on it. Transference and Crossing. Magic in heaven. Who would have guessed? “We might be too late as it is.”
“Wait,” Eleanor said. She ran toward me. “You’re not going without me.”
“No,” I said. “Hell no. Stay. You’ve earned that.”
“You’re going. I’m going,” she said. “Will this hurt?”
“Can’t say this is going to feel good, exactly,” Da said.
“Through the window?” I said, bracing for the impact and fall and impact.
“We’ll give you everything we have, Shame,” Victor said. “Godspeed to you, son.”
Victor and Da jerked me off my feet at the same moment, and then they both said one word. A word that shattered all sound, shattered all light, shattered the heavens. Or at least my heaven.
Magic.
“Good-bye, Shamus,” I heard Dad whisper. “Make me proud.”
And then I was flying through the air, into the window.
I threw my hands out to try to protect my face. Glass exploded, sliced through me, shredded my clothes, my skin, my bone.
I yelled. And fell forever.
Chapter 13
TERRIC
Eli came by often to make sure I was drugged so heavily I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. And even though that meant I couldn’t think clearly, I was glad for it. Glad for the respite.
I didn’t know why I was drugged. Without magic, shackled to this cage, I wasn’t exactly the biggest threat on the planet.
A sound like a stone cracking steel rang out so loud I came awake gulping air.
“This,” Krogher said, only inches away.
He’d never been this close to me. There had always been bars between us.
Eli stood by the small table, a Beckstrom disk in his hand, one of the ones he said didn’t work, or sometimes worked as a magnifying glass, or something he’d said a long time ago. It had something to do with Davy and the drone and lies and control.
The disk was smoking, the metal a useless burnt lump.
Krogher was still talking. To me, I realized, much to my surprise. I stared at his lips, trying to focus on the words.
“. . . final day for you, Mr. Conley,” he said. “We want to thank you for your service to the United States government and its allies. I can assure you there will be a job waiting for you, a modest home, and a small amount in savings as a token of our appreciation.”
I blinked hard. He was still there. So was Eli, standing to my side.
Not a hallucination, then.
“. . . understand me?” Krogher asked. “I thought you said he’d be clear by now.”