They kissed each other, a kiss almost terrible in its desperation. Nadia closed her eyes tightly and tried to believe this kiss wasn’t their last.
EPILOGUE
TWO DAYS LATER, ON THANKSGIVING, VERLAINE FELT halfway normal again.
Only halfway. Her heart still ached every time she thought about Asa. The more she thought about what Nadia had done, the more she believed it was both the bravest and stupidest thing she’d ever heard of. Uncle Gary was still in the hospital, just for observation, so as cute as it was to see him and Uncle Dave being sweet to each other, her house was still empty most of the time. (Well, except for Smuckers, but even the snuggliest cat in the whole world couldn’t make up for everything.)
More than that, Captive’s Sound was clearly not exactly what it had been. Although the quarantine was due to be lifted tomorrow, people were still penned in. Most Thanksgiving dinners in town this year would come out of cans: yuck. But the bigger worry was how suspicious people were. How they whispered among one another.
Everyone in town had seen just how strange things could get. How much longer could they deny the truth? How much longer would Elizabeth—and Nadia—remain hidden?
In midmorning, Verlaine put on her leopard-print coat and wrapped her white silk scarf around her head. Red lipstick, cat-eye sunglasses: perfect. She’d be overly chic for a Thanksgiving meal at the hospital cafeteria, but hey, at least that way it would feel like an occasion.
The land yacht was running on fumes, and Verlaine wasn’t due to get her gasoline ration until tomorrow, when the stupid rationing would be over anyway, but rules were rules. It was about a half-hour walk to the hospital; she could manage.
But the day was the coldest they’d had yet, the first one that really felt like winter. The low clouds overhead were ominously gray, and sure enough, just as Verlaine closed her front door, she saw a snowflake land on her sleeve, bright against the leopard print.
“Oh, sure. Send the first snow just when I have a long walk outside.” She scowled up at the sky—but really, she loved snow. The only question was whether she needed to trade in her beloved red Converse for snow boots. Not today, she figured, and she got started on her way.
As she walked along, she watched the soft fall of snow begin turning the town from its usual dingy, dilapidated state to the beautiful New England village it ought to have been. It was as though the snow erased the scars Elizabeth’s magic had left behind and made the world new.
If only it were that easy, she thought.
The flakes wheeling slowly down were big and fat, large enough that when one landed on her sunglasses, she had to stop and wipe the lenses with the end of her scarf. Verlaine glanced up as she moved to put them back on—and saw Asa standing in front of her.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Quickly she stashed her sunglasses in her coat pocket. “You’re alive?”
“As alive as I ever was.” His cynical smile was a shadow of its former self, but she was glad to see it nonetheless. “Which is to say, not all that much. But I’m back. Will that do?”
Verlaine took a couple of steps toward him, then stopped short. “What happened to you?”
Asa shrugged. His sleek, black jacket should have been too thin for the cold, but his unearthly warmth must have protected him. The snowflakes seemed to melt as soon as they touched him. “The One Beneath doubted my loyalty. So he showed me the price of disobedience.”
She bit her lower lip. “The price?”
“Pain beyond imagining,” he said, so simply that it made her shudder. “For days on end. The agony is meant to blot out any memories of the mortal world, or any bonds we might have created there. It’s supposed to make us forget.”
“But you didn’t forget.” Verlaine stepped toward him. “You didn’t, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
Asa stepped closer to her. The snow beneath his feet melted instantly, leaving clear patches everywhere he’d stepped, and he seemed to be wreathed with wisps of fog. “No. I didn’t forget.”
Snowflakes caught on Verlaine’s eyelashes and kissed her cheeks with cold. She felt as though she could hardly breathe. “I’m sorry you had to suffer for me.”
“I’m not. Feeling all the pain was worth it, if it means I get to feel—everything else.”
Yet again she swayed toward him, but stopped herself. “Are you free? Can you ever be free?”
He shook his head. “The battle’s on now. The time draws near. As they command, I must obey. If they ask me to kill you, I’ll have to do it.” His voice choked off; it was the first moment that Verlaine realized he was as overwhelmed as she. “After that they wouldn’t have to send me to hell. Every single second would be hell to me.”
“. . . As touching as that is, in that scenario, I’m actually more worried about me.”
Asa laughed in what seemed to be genuine delight. “That’s the greatest thing about you. No matter how the world tries to beat you down, you always stay focused on what matters most.” The wind tugged at the edges of his black scarf; the way it rippled reminded her of his shadow being torn apart. “Forget me, Verlaine. It’s the only way. And if I ever have to come for you, kill me with my blessing. I can’t think of a better way to die.”
“So, that’s it.” Verlaine’s astonishment had been electrified into anger, and into something else she could hardly define, but it quickened her pulse, burned along her skin, shrank the entire world down to her and Asa in the middle of the swirling whiteness. “That’s all we get. The little time we’ve had is all we’ll ever have.”
EPILOGUE
TWO DAYS LATER, ON THANKSGIVING, VERLAINE FELT halfway normal again.
Only halfway. Her heart still ached every time she thought about Asa. The more she thought about what Nadia had done, the more she believed it was both the bravest and stupidest thing she’d ever heard of. Uncle Gary was still in the hospital, just for observation, so as cute as it was to see him and Uncle Dave being sweet to each other, her house was still empty most of the time. (Well, except for Smuckers, but even the snuggliest cat in the whole world couldn’t make up for everything.)
More than that, Captive’s Sound was clearly not exactly what it had been. Although the quarantine was due to be lifted tomorrow, people were still penned in. Most Thanksgiving dinners in town this year would come out of cans: yuck. But the bigger worry was how suspicious people were. How they whispered among one another.
Everyone in town had seen just how strange things could get. How much longer could they deny the truth? How much longer would Elizabeth—and Nadia—remain hidden?
In midmorning, Verlaine put on her leopard-print coat and wrapped her white silk scarf around her head. Red lipstick, cat-eye sunglasses: perfect. She’d be overly chic for a Thanksgiving meal at the hospital cafeteria, but hey, at least that way it would feel like an occasion.
The land yacht was running on fumes, and Verlaine wasn’t due to get her gasoline ration until tomorrow, when the stupid rationing would be over anyway, but rules were rules. It was about a half-hour walk to the hospital; she could manage.
But the day was the coldest they’d had yet, the first one that really felt like winter. The low clouds overhead were ominously gray, and sure enough, just as Verlaine closed her front door, she saw a snowflake land on her sleeve, bright against the leopard print.
“Oh, sure. Send the first snow just when I have a long walk outside.” She scowled up at the sky—but really, she loved snow. The only question was whether she needed to trade in her beloved red Converse for snow boots. Not today, she figured, and she got started on her way.
As she walked along, she watched the soft fall of snow begin turning the town from its usual dingy, dilapidated state to the beautiful New England village it ought to have been. It was as though the snow erased the scars Elizabeth’s magic had left behind and made the world new.
If only it were that easy, she thought.
The flakes wheeling slowly down were big and fat, large enough that when one landed on her sunglasses, she had to stop and wipe the lenses with the end of her scarf. Verlaine glanced up as she moved to put them back on—and saw Asa standing in front of her.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Quickly she stashed her sunglasses in her coat pocket. “You’re alive?”
“As alive as I ever was.” His cynical smile was a shadow of its former self, but she was glad to see it nonetheless. “Which is to say, not all that much. But I’m back. Will that do?”
Verlaine took a couple of steps toward him, then stopped short. “What happened to you?”
Asa shrugged. His sleek, black jacket should have been too thin for the cold, but his unearthly warmth must have protected him. The snowflakes seemed to melt as soon as they touched him. “The One Beneath doubted my loyalty. So he showed me the price of disobedience.”
She bit her lower lip. “The price?”
“Pain beyond imagining,” he said, so simply that it made her shudder. “For days on end. The agony is meant to blot out any memories of the mortal world, or any bonds we might have created there. It’s supposed to make us forget.”
“But you didn’t forget.” Verlaine stepped toward him. “You didn’t, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
Asa stepped closer to her. The snow beneath his feet melted instantly, leaving clear patches everywhere he’d stepped, and he seemed to be wreathed with wisps of fog. “No. I didn’t forget.”
Snowflakes caught on Verlaine’s eyelashes and kissed her cheeks with cold. She felt as though she could hardly breathe. “I’m sorry you had to suffer for me.”
“I’m not. Feeling all the pain was worth it, if it means I get to feel—everything else.”
Yet again she swayed toward him, but stopped herself. “Are you free? Can you ever be free?”
He shook his head. “The battle’s on now. The time draws near. As they command, I must obey. If they ask me to kill you, I’ll have to do it.” His voice choked off; it was the first moment that Verlaine realized he was as overwhelmed as she. “After that they wouldn’t have to send me to hell. Every single second would be hell to me.”
“. . . As touching as that is, in that scenario, I’m actually more worried about me.”
Asa laughed in what seemed to be genuine delight. “That’s the greatest thing about you. No matter how the world tries to beat you down, you always stay focused on what matters most.” The wind tugged at the edges of his black scarf; the way it rippled reminded her of his shadow being torn apart. “Forget me, Verlaine. It’s the only way. And if I ever have to come for you, kill me with my blessing. I can’t think of a better way to die.”
“So, that’s it.” Verlaine’s astonishment had been electrified into anger, and into something else she could hardly define, but it quickened her pulse, burned along her skin, shrank the entire world down to her and Asa in the middle of the swirling whiteness. “That’s all we get. The little time we’ve had is all we’ll ever have.”
