Epilogue 3.16

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---Comma---


     Rex is about to say something stupid. I know that because his mouth is open. And I am so not in the mood for stupid. So I quicken may pace, hoping he'll take the hint.

     I breathe in the stale, tepid air. The stars have all burned out in the sky above us; the only light comes from a village situated in the valley below the hillside. Each blade of grass remains frozen in time until our tired feet stomp over it. The wind doesn't blow. I can feel its chill as I walk through patches of it, suspended in the dead air.

     "We're better off without that lot," Rex finally spits out.

     I ball my hands into fists. How could he possibly think that? I take a deep breath—he doesn't know. He may have seen my past, but he's still a demon. He doesn't feel. Not like we do.

     As I turn around to face him, I know that he doesn't know what it's like to feel unworthy of your very existence. To feel like the only reason the universe has kept you around this long is because it enjoys tormenting you. And to feel like you deserve all of it.

     He doesn't know that in the time I spent with Em, Gail, Crawford, and all the others, I'd gotten my hopes up. I was an idiot to think that maybe the universe had finally forgiven me for what I'd done. For all of those innocent lives snuffed out by Selina and me on our unholy crusade against humanity.

     "I'm going to find my way back to them," I say, speaking quickly to hide the tremors in my voice. I don't bother raising my voice, either, even though sound doesn't carry as well in dead worlds. Unless that sound happens to be a glowdark's screech.

     Rex tilts his head to the side, eying me with his caustic grin.

     "What?"

     "Not using your lump, are you love? Do you have any idea how big the multiverse is? I reckon it'll be at least a hundred years before we run into anyone else what knows the way to Ganeden."

     We've already had this argument. Demons are stubborn that way. "All I have to do is retrace my steps."

     "You can never get there the same way twice. A bit naff, but them's the rules."

     I scoff. "Yeah? Well, I don't play by the rules."

     Rex shakes his head. I continue along the hillside. "Birds," he mutters.

     "You got a problem?"

     "No, I mean birds. Fancy that."

     I look up. In the darkness, I can make out a swarm of glistening black shapes drifting our way. You don't see a lot of birds in dead worlds—the End tends to eradicate all a place's native wildlife. But you do see a lot of glowdarks.

     The realization hits us both at the same time. And all too late. Two more swarms of glowdarks begin their descent from the desolate heavens. Our only option is to make a dash for the village; the glowdarks won't be able to get to us under the cover of manmade structures.

     As we run downhill, picking up speed, the glowdarks torpedo towards us one by one, kicking up torrents of hardened earth when they crash into the ground. Normally, the best option under fire would be to avoid running in a straight line. But with glowdarks, all logic goes out the window. All they understand is raw speed.

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