Dust

LIV

Stepping into the Bureau's training arena, I feel my throat clench a little.

I don't know, maybe it's the fact that the last time I was here, it was beginning of the steep fall downhill, or maybe it's the fact that the reason I'm here is to arm myself to battle an army of who knows what number. Maybe it's just the fact that I know the reason it's come to this: me.

Damien's voice at my shoulder makes me jump a little. "You gonna stand there and stare at the weapons or take 'em?"

I glance sideways at him, pulling my hair back up after Leopold undid it. I secure it with a hair band and begin a slow waltz to the wall of weapons beside the window, swallowing. That spot there on the floor, underneath said window, was where I was teaching Oliver, where Gael came just to be silly. My heart thuds a little. It's funny how joy blinds you; why hadn't I seen it coming? Everything? "I don't know if I can do this," I admit, my voice quiet. I close my eyes, dropping my head, fingering the locket around my neck again. If I had a quarter for every time I've done that since I left Revlin, I'd be rich, and it's not a habit I can just stop doing. Touching the locket lends me visions of Shi's golden eyes, of his smile, of his courage that rubbed off on me. Shi was a flame, ardent and beautiful, extinguished far too soon.

Dame's arms slip around me, and I put my hands over his own, resting on my torso. His breath stirs the messy hairs near my ear. "You have to do this," he says. "This is for your survival. This is for Maris. This is for Shiloh."

I almost correct him. Shi, I want to say, he liked to be called Shi. But I don't. "What if something goes wrong?" I turn abruptly, facing him. "What if tonight is the night death finally catches up to me, Damien? It's like..." I turn away again, reaching up to grab a pistol. "I feel like I was supposed to die that night, along with my father, and maybe death has been trying to get me all this time...so what if this is its night? What if tonight is game over for me; I lose, death wins?"

He doesn't say anything for a second, and I can feel him scrutinizing me. Then: "Life isn't a game."

"It is," I say, glimpsing over my shoulder. "It's just a bunch of levels, Dame, with a bunch of opponents all along the way, and booby traps. You screw something up, you die. At least, for those of us who are mortal. You just get a free ride, don't you?"

Dame's eyes widen, his expression stricken. My own falls; God, I'm such an idiot. "It's anything but free," he says, before I can say anything else, and that's all he does say about the subject. He's moved on before I can even attempt to apologize for being so blunt. "Gemma, trust me on this one. I've watched you grow since you had just barely lived a decade. You're strong, stronger than me, than anyone. This isn't the end."

My grin is rueful. "And if it is?"

"It isn't—"

"And if it is?" I urge, then reach up to wipe away a tear I hadn't noticed had fallen. The sun's setting behind the skyscrapers of the inner city, pink and purple and orange flowing through the windows, painting the darkness of the arena. The end. "Promise me. You go on, Damien, if this is it. Don't dwell on me, on anything. If it helps, don't even speak to my family again. Try to find out about your past, your family—"

"You idiot," Damien says, but he's laughing, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

I blink at him, not sure what's humorous about my demands. "I'm sorry?"

His voice is edgy, but gruff. "The more people you lose, the easier it gets each time, right? No, Gemma. Forgetting you is not an option. One day I'll have to live with that, but I swear, that day is not this one. You listen to me, my love," Damien says, stepping towards me and closing me in an embrace so tight I feel like a lemon being made into lemonade.