“What good has a bodyguard done me?” I asked. “If someone wants me dead, I’d rather they kill me than go through anyone else trying. ”
Desmond picked up my purse, which he’d thoughtfully collected from the stoop of my apartment and brought along when they followed the ambulance, and met me at the door. “I’ll come with you. ”
“Fine,” I agreed, and was grateful he’d insisted, even if I couldn’t manage to express it. “And you. ?
? I pointed a finger at Lucas. “You will kill those fucking wolves or so help me God I will find a way the rain a fire of hell and pain on your life so epic it will make you wish your father’s father’s father had never been born. Do you understand me?”
He nodded.
For once in the wolf king’s life, he didn’t try to get the last word.
Chapter Fifty
Beheading a demon was easier than breaking Nolan Tate’s heart.
I’d been with Brigit when she died, and even now, a half day later, I wasn’t sure which event had been harder on me. Watching her die had destroyed me. Telling Nolan she was gone might as well have killed me.
He’d cried. There had been screaming, followed by more crying. Then he’d thrown the television on the floor, punched a hole in the drywall and left the apartment. Desmond and I had spent the night, trading bouts of fitful sleep on the couch, waiting for him to come back. He never did.
Every time I drifted off I hoped I’d see Brigit again. I imagined she might be waiting for me in my dreams, trying to deliver an important message. I wanted her to tell me the doctors had screwed up and she was fine but they couldn’t tell because she’d had no pulse to begin with.
After a few minutes of black, dreamless sleep, I would wake up feeling worse than I had before.
Around noon we stopped trying to sleep and gave up waiting for Nolan to come home.
I spent the afternoon with Desmond, retracing the steps we’d taken the day before in happier times. I wore a dress taken from Brigit’s closet, and every so often I’d smell her specific laundry detergent and fresh memories of her would bubble to the surface. I might have been better off leaving my blood-stained outfit on rather than wearing a dress steeped in sadness. The dress was also a good two inches shorter than I was comfortable with, making me feel self-concious and uncomfortable.
Neither Desmond nor I said much, choosing to walk in silence. The daytime sounds of New York were abundant. In Central Park, tourists chattered and snapped pictures, pigeons cooed, and sparrows chittered while picking at people’s leftover food.
We stopped next to Bethesda Fountain, sitting on the edge and watching rented rowboats sail past under the untrained strokes of teenaged boys and middle-aged couples.
“What are you going to do?” he asked finally.
“I have an idea. ”
“You usually do. ”
“It hinges on the Rain siblings. ”
“Then it probably isn’t a good idea,” he said.
“They never are. ”
Two rowboats collided, their front ends knocking against each other. A group of young women in one giggled and apologized to the couple in the other. Youth was a funny thing, so open to forgiveness. We watched the boats part ways and drift in opposite directions across the pond.
“Are you going to tell me your terrible plan?”
“That depends. ”
“On?”
“Will you try to talk me out of it?”
Desmond took my hand but didn’t look at me. “No. I’m done trying to talk you into or out of anything. I might not agree, but you won’t change your mind because of me. ”
I squeezed his hand and chose not to placate him with a lie.
“I’m going to take Kellen back. And I’m going to make Holden help me do it. ” He didn’t reply for such a long time I thought he might not have heard me. When I glanced at him, his expression told me he hadn’t had any trouble catching what I’d said. “Desmond?”