“Nah, not changed. You’re Mags, but now you’re Mags, Über Necromancer.” He snickered. “You’re standing on your own legs.” He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t need me, Mags.”
She clung to him, afraid that if she let go, he’d vanish into thin air, even though she knew that was silly. He couldn’t go. Not if she didn’t let him. “But I want you here. You’re my best friend.”
“I know.” He chuckled. “And I guess I don’t really have a say in the matter.”
“Of course you do.” She looked up at him in the darkness, now able to see his tired, weary smile. “I wouldn’t keep you here against your will.”
“It’s time to let me go.”
“But—no, please—”
“It’s all right.” He slowly stroked a hand over her hair, watching her as if it would be for the last time. The expression on his face made her tears flow faster. “Hey, don’t cry, Mags. Don’t cry. I’ve been dead for a long, long time.”
She couldn’t help it.
Because she knew he was right.
He was her teddy bear. The thing she clung to in desperation. Something she could rely on when she was afraid of the dark. But she wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, was she? And it was…it was cruel to keep him like this. She didn’t know how long revenants were meant to last, but four-hundred-and-something years had to be pushing it.
It was childish. But she couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“I know.” He picked up the enchanted necklace he wore, fishing it out from underneath the ridiculous tropical shirt he bought in the airport, and pulled it from around his neck. As he took the talisman off, his form…melted away. The living man disappeared, leaving his true self sitting beside her.
A yellowed skull, missing its lower jaw, perched atop a matching spine.
Even through the tears, she had to laugh.
“What?” He looked down at himself and realized what was funny. His Hawaiian shirt was draped over an empty skeleton. It looked even dumber than it had before. “Oh.” He joined her in a laugh.
Lifting a hand, she touched his cheekbone, stroking a thumb over the porous surface. He was battered and worn, the bones cracked and chipped, pieces floating in space where they should go, though they had long since broken away from the whole. But how many bits of himself had he lost over the centuries? How many shards of Leopold de Lorges had been scattered around the globe?
This was what he really was. The illusion was just that—an illusion. The teddy bear was just a teddy bear. Worn, and battered, and missing pieces, the fur long rubbed off to the raw webbing beneath.
She ran a hand over the ridge of his skull and pulled him in to rest his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” she whispered.
“But it’s time,” he replied, his voice hoarse from emotion. “And I’ll always be with you.”
She sniffled, trying to keep the sobs at bay, at least for now. “If you—if you see dad, tell him I love him. And—and go tell that bitch Medici she can fuck a brick, and I don’t mean lengthwise.”
He laughed quietly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She knew how to let him go, but she hesitated. “Harry…I love you. You’re my family. You always have been. And I—I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I love you too, Mags. And I’m sorry. But I’m just so tired.”
It was selfish to keep him here, long after he had been meant to die. It had been selfish to raise him in the first place; she just hadn’t known what she was doing. But now? Now she was keeping him here on purpose, and it was wrong. She sniffled again.
“I already texted that egotistical, pedantic, cunt of a lich to tell him I hate his ugly-ass face and I’ll never forgive him. And that if he ever hurts you again, I’ll come back to rip him apart.”
“I’m sure he took that well.”
“He said he wouldn’t ever miss any part of me for a split second, but that he wished me safe travels and peaceful harbors.” He paused. “God, I hate him. Pretentious fuck.”
She laughed, brokenheartedly, and shut her eyes. “I know.”
They sat in silence for a long time, his bare skull still resting against her head, forehead to forehead.
“I love you, Mags.”
“I love you too, Harry.”
And with that…she let him go.
He crumpled to the sand beside her, the magic holding his bones together releasing their bonds. As the bones fell, she watched as they crumbled to dust. They were too brittle—too abused by centuries of forced animation by magic—to survive. She watched the dust wisp away in the breeze, caught in the tropical air.
And then he was gone.
Her shoulders wracked with sobs as she placed her head in her hands and wept.