He doesn’t hold me for long, which I appreciate—it helps reassure me that it’s really him standing before me. His understanding of my hatred for affection only confirms it. This is Ty.Myfriend that I got killed.
I allow the sting of that knowledge to hurt my heart—just for a second. Once it reaches me, I take a deep breath, and completely push it away, just as I have with every other piece of my trauma. I move on, and tell myself that I’m okay.
I am… okay.
“Why are you here?” I gesture my head in a circle, indicatingthisroom, not in the Beyond. He has to know I’m aware he’s dead.
The smile on his face widens. “Heard you were coming. Figured I’d come greet you.”
When I look at Alaric, there’s an intensity in his gaze, one directed solely at me. He doesn’t spare Tyson a glance. All of his focus is on me, and that unsettles me.
Shifting uncomfortably, I hum out, “Okay…” I suppose waiting in line won’t besobad. Maybe Ty can help pass the time for me. I want to know what happened just before his death. How it happened, and who it was so that I could do one last act of kindness for a man that deserved better in ourfriendship.
Just as I’m reaching for the ticket to begin our wait, he places a hand on top of mine to stop me. “No need, you are next in line.”
This feeling, it isn’t foreign to me. It’s one I’ve been slapped with on so many occasions, I’ve lost count.Betrayal.
“Come on.”
He doesn’t reach for me, just waits. I hate myself for glancing back at Alaric, seeking confirmation that he’s coming with me. That self-loathing digs deeper when he nods… and I feel a strange sense of relief.
That liberation is cracked quickly, as Tyson raises his hand and presses it against the Fallen’s chest. They are of equal height, nearly, but Ty is far broader. However, even here, he is merely Mundane. I can’t imagine that even between the worlds, our kind would be seen as equals.
“Not you, you’ll wait here for her.” It’s commanding, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
“He will come with me,” I demand.
I need to center myself, think ahead of everything. There is no way that Tyson is Belial—I know that, I’d have sensed it, seen it,feltit. The explanation is beyond that door, the clean one that is completely out of place from the rest of this room.
“When have you ever been the commander between us, Tyson?” My tone isn’t degrading, but it’s not soft and playful.
“Since I died, now come.” He reaches for my elbow and I shrug back. “Xera, it’s alright, really he will be fine out here.”
I don’t give a fuck about the Fallen’s physical, mental, or any other state. There’s a reason I need him in there.
“It’s fine,” Alaric says while nodding, his hand coming to press against the middle of my back. “I’ll be right here.” A warm sensation spills down to the base of my spine, straight to the tip of my tail. It sparks like fireworks, and I’m familiar with the sensation.
It happened the time I came back to him kissing me.
I knew that stupid fuck lied about needing to do that to heal me. But my Amoro doesn’t pull away, which makes me feel secure—whatever he just did, it’s here to help me.
Tyson turns and leads me to the door, the brass handle creaking like the rest of the room does. The creaks and groans of this place feel ancient and rickety. Honestly, it sounds like we are on an aged wooden ship without the swaying.
I steal one last glance behind me, hearing the grumbles of the dead and curses at me all while Alaric crosses his arms and narrows his gaze.
Don’t fucking betray me, you asshole.
Only once I’ve stepped through and the door shuts behind me with no aid from Tyson or myself, I look around the room. The dark wood, from the large office table to the bookshelves, smell as though they were just cut from the trees they grew from moments before I walked in. There is a subtle hint of whiskey, and a lingering lemon tang in the air.
The walls are lined with books, none with titles on the spines, and any empty spaces are filled with random trinkets. From a ship with sand below it in an old wine bottle, to a glass fairy that looks out of place.
At the furthest point of the room is a dark wooden table, a few pieces of paper scattered, and a matching leather chair that is turned away from us. It’s tall, which makes it difficult to see if anyone is sitting in it.
I’m prepared to pace to it, fuck the nerves, and spin this bastard around to give me answers, when Tyson says, “You know…” I look up over my shoulder, his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring in the same direction I had been. “I had hoped when I died, we wouldn’t see each other again.”
My heart stutters.
His gaze falls to me as he slightly frowns. “Our friendship was real. Please don’t see what I did as a betrayal.”
