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Yet that nagging feeling of wrongness returned, only this time I could see things a bit more clearly. Of course I wasn’t dead, that was the whole point of the bracelet, wasn’t it? And if I was dead, I wouldn’t be basking in the sunlight with my sister. I’d be walking the night road with Hecate, and she’d probably be pissed off I hadn’t stayed alive long enough to fulfill her favor.

Now that I was really thinking about it, I’d been an idiot to think this was some perfect afterlife, welcoming me in with open arms.

For one thing, that would mean Sunny was dead as well, and that was not how I wanted to reunite with my twin. I’d prefer to never see her again than to be the reason she died young and pretty.

“I’m dreaming.”

Sunny nodded, stroking my hair, her thumb rubbing circles on my knuckles. When we were younger, before they separated us and took us to our respective temples, we would vanish for hours, hiding from our parents for no other reason than that we could. We’d hide together in closets or under the deck at the back of our house. We’d emerge covered in mud or dust, and somehow the blame would always fall on me.

I was the dark sister. I was the black sheep.

Sunny was the embodiment of flawlessness.

I couldn’t be mad at her about it either, because I worshipped the ground she walked on. Even at a young age, when I was angry about my future and told them I wouldn’t go to the temple and I’d run away, Sunny was the voice of reason. She was the only thing that kept me sane.

So it was funny, now, to see her when I was evidently going crazy.

“You’re not real.” A single tear streaked down to my ear, and I tried to look away from her, not wanting to see her if she wasn’t actually with me. If this was a cruel byproduct of Mormo’s blade, it was worse than the pain. The hurt I’d feel when she vanished would eclipse anything the knife had left behind.

“I’m real enough.”

I fought back more tears, blinking fiercely. “I wish you were here, Sun. You’d know what to do.”

She was the smart one, the levelheaded one. If Sun

ny had been tasked with bringing Leo to the temple, he’d already be there, and things wouldn’t be such a mess. I was the fuckup, and now I was proving it yet again.

“Since when were you such a quitter, Tallulah Belle? You have a job to do.”

“I got stabbed.”

“You think Seth cares?”

A little bubble of laughter escaped my throat. “No.”

“You think Seth will accept any excuse?”

I shook my head, closing my eyes. A dull ache was building in my chest, my lungs burning with each new breath. “It’s not an excuse.”

“Wake up and finish what you started.” She gave my hands one more squeeze, so tight the small bones of my hand seemed to grind together, and I grimaced. “Wake up.”

“Wake up.” Her voice changed, deepening, becoming more commanding, more masculine. “Tallulah, come on, this isn’t my apartment. I can’t explain a dead body to the owners.”

Leo’s hand was pressed hard against my ribs, blood oozing up between his fingers, coating his skin with a film of deep crimson liquid.

“Ow,” I groaned.

“Hey, there you are.” He touched my face, giving my cheek a firm slap when I started to close my eyes again. “Nope, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Where’s Mormo?” I twisted, trying to look behind me to where I’d last seen the god. The hall was empty, and the front door of the apartment was wide open. To my relief, I noted the Keres had stopped their incessant whispering. All that was left was the sound of my own labored breathing and the muffled din of the French Quarter outside.

“Gone. Like poof gone. Do you ever get used to that?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to get you to a hospital.” He pressed down on my ribs harder, and I scowled. Was he intentionally trying to make this more painful, because if so, he was doing a bang-up job.

“Okay.”


Tags: Sierra Dean Fantasy