When Charlie drifts to sleep, Max moves closer. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him since we took off minutes earlier. Worry creases the space between his eyes, and his mouth is turned down. I motion for him to take the seat on my other side.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, not wanting to wake Charlie.
Max shakes his head. “It’s Valery.”
I should have known. Max just busted us out of a dire situation James Bond style, and he’s worried about a girl. Still, he’s my dude. And if he needs someone to listen, I want to be there for him, regardless of what else is happening.
“Talk to me.” I lean back against the head rest and give him my full attention.
He looks down at his hands. “We were supposed to get married, right? But I guess Valery got notice that she couldn’t shack up with a collector. Doesn’t matter that I haven’t been an active collector in what feels like forever. No, all they care about is where I got my cuff.”
I put a hand on my friend’s shoulder. “So much for free will and all that. I mean, really. That’s a load of crap.”
“That’s what I said. I mean, look at you and Charlie. Why is that allowed?” Max raises his head. “Thought things were supposed to be different on the other side. I always heard Big Guy didn’t discriminate and was forgiving and stuff.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He shrugs. “What can I do? Val says we need to take some time. That maybe Big Guy will see that I’m not going to return to my old ways, even though that means Lucille will tear me to shreds if his guys find me. But I didn’t know take some time meant we weren’t even going to touch each other. It’s like we’re not even engaged anymore.”
Guilt hits me like a thunderbolt. I’ve been so caught up in Charlie that I’ve neglected a friend who’s needed me. “Hey, I’m here, right? I know I haven’t really been available, but I’m here now.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “Is there anything I can do?”
Max presses his lips together. “Nah, man. It’s cool of you to offer, though.”
I expect Max to appear less burdened after talking about Red, but he doesn’t. In fact, it appears as if he’s still holding something back.
“Max?” I ask. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”
His eyes flick to where Charlie’s sleeping. He bites his lip.
I straighten in my seat. “What? Tell me.”
Max glances once more at her and then leans in. “I was going to tell her as soon as she woke up. Her grandma—err, Grams—she’s not doing well.”
My stomach drops. “She’s always been sick.”
“She’s worse,” Max says. “It’s like she was waiting for Charlie to be gone.”
“How bad is it?”
Max’s gaze falls away, and my insides twist. This can’t be happening. Not with everything else going on. Not when Charlie needs the familiarity of home and those who love her. Plus, I like Grams. For an oldie, she’s freaking awesome. And I don’t want…
“Have you guys taken her somewhere?” I ask. “A hospital or something?”
Max sighs. “She won’t go. And quite frankly, she seems tired of Valery and me stopping by. She thinks we’re a part of Charlie’s volunteer organization—that Hands Helping Hands thing—so she’s been nice. But I think she’s ready for the visitors to stop. Some lady came by and has been staying with her.”
“Irene?” I ask, remembering Charlie telling me about her Grams’s friend.
“Yeah, that’s her name. Irene was running interference this morning, wouldn’t let us see her even once.”
My nails dig into my palms. How am I going to tell Charlie this? I glance at her and try to keep my hands to myself. She needs to sleep. She needs to have this last bit of peace before her world is crushed.
…
Every nerve in my body is firing when we pull up outside Charlie’s house. We shouldn’t be here, I think. Not when the collectors and sirens are ready to strike. What’s more, ever since I learned the true whereabouts of Charlie’s soul, I’ve been obsessed with stealing it back. It’s the only offensive action I can think to take. Though just considering returning to hell makes my bones ache. I remember the stairs leading down into the mouth of hell, and what’s behind them, and I shudder.
I shake my head. Charlie needs this moment with her Grams, and I won’t be the one to tell her she can’t have it. And if I’m being honest, I want to see Grams, too. When I think about how much I want to see her, it scares me. It’s been years since Dad died in my arms, and I don’t know how I’ll handle it if Grams dies, too.
Though neither Max nor I have breathed a word, I sense Charlie knows something’s up. Aspen and Annabelle aren’t at each other’s throats anymore, and with Blue staring blankly out the window, it seems like everything has stopped.
I step out of the silver Tahoe Valery picked us up in, and Charlie gets out after me.
After rolling down the window, Red says, “I’m going to take everyone back to the hotel Max and I are staying at. You guys should pack some of Charlie’s things. We’re sitting ducks if we stay here too long.”
Then Valery looks at Charlie with sad eyes. I have to make a face at her to stop being so damn obvious.
When the Tahoe pulls away, Charlie wraps her arms around her waist. “Everyone knows, I guess.”
“Knows what?” I manage to say.
“That she’s dying.”
My jaw drops open, and Charlie spins to face me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know she’s sick? That I don’t hear the way you guys whisper every time she comes in the room?”
“Angel—”
“Don’t call me that! There are no angels here tonight.”
Her words are a cold slap. But they also make her more real, more reachable. Charlie has always been better than the rest of us, but in this moment, she seems less like a child sent to save the world, and more like a woman losing the only family she has.
Charlie takes my hand, and we head inside. Irene meets us at the door. The woman has to be less than five feet tall, and with her black beehive, she totally reminds me of the chick in that old movie Poltergeist.
Irene points at me but looks at Charlie. “Who’s this?”
“My boyfriend,” Charlie answers, her eyes on the staircase that leads to Grams’s room.
I get the slightest rush hearing Charlie call me her boyfriend. It reminds me that she’ll have someone after her Grams is gone. Since I’m immortal, she’ll always have someone, even when she’s the old woman in the bed.
This last thought is jarring, thinking of Charlie leaving this earth. Will I be able to see her…after? Though it’s something that won’t take place for decades, it already has my mind reeling. An equally disturbing thought is the one where Charlie ages, and I remain forever seventeen. How will it ever work for us?
“She’s upstairs,” Irene says before pulling Charlie into a quick hug. “She’s not well, sweetie. Say nice things to her.”
Say good-bye, is what she means.
Somewhere between stepping out of the Tahoe and entering this house, I built a wall around myself. I will not feel. I will not care.
I will not let this hurt me.
If I can keep telling myself these things, then it won’t be so bad.
Irene excuses herself and shuffles into the kitchen. As Charlie and I ascend the stairs, I concentrate on the sound of Irene rattling dishes. It’s easier to think about what’s behind me than about what’s waiting in Grams’s room.