Page 74 of The World Undone

Aside from our inability to help Seamus and Sarah, things were otherwise settling into a steady, almost comfortable routine. But that came with its own grief, its own guilt. How did one find peace, purpose, amidst others’ pain?

We did our best to find a way, in the quieter moments. Now that there was a plan in place, life at The Lodge somehow both sped up and slowed down all at once.

Despite initial wariness, the community took to Ralph quickly. After a few days of scattered sidelong glances and whispers, that is.

Once Mer’s son, Devin, accidentally bumped into him, everyone in the vicinity seemed to collectively hold their breath, expecting all hell to break loose. Literally. But instead, Ralph put his front paws down in that universal puppy sign for play, and took off on a leap, hopping around like an overgrown labrador with some of the older kids. He’d even lay on his back and let them climb over him.

Honestly, the hellhound was fucking loving this place, and I didn’t blame him. There was a warmth here that I grew more fond of with each passing day.

And once he’d dragged out one of the younger kids who’d accidentally slipped into the lake, he won over every last skeptical heart in the place.

Now, I hardly saw him much before dusk, and once everyone realized that he wasn’t going to hurt them, I think a lot of the parents actually felt safer having him around. He’d become like a giant, protective, community babysitter. One we were desperately in need of, with all of the adults stretched so thin.

Even Shadow loved him.

I found the small cat buried in a puddle of his fur most nights, whenever she couldn’t sneak into Darius’s room.

Of course, while everyone’s fear of Ralph had dissipated, Darius’s fear of Shadow remained decidedly unchanged. Not that he’d admit it was fear that he was feeling.

“That damn cat is unclean. Downright unhygienic letting her in this cabin.”

“She’s getting into everything.”

“Mark my words, she’s some secret creature we haven’t heard about. One bent on killing us all. You laugh now, Little Protector, but just you wait…”

Even Bishop seemed lighter, happier, now that there was a clear mission he could pour himself into. I’d even caught a few more of those smiles on his face, though never when Charlie wasn’t in the room to inspire them.

He also seemed to hate Darius less, which seemed to startle the vampire more than please him.

Darius knew how to handle people hating him, but he seemed much less sure what to do with the inevitable affection he inspired in those who took the time to get to know him—whether by choice or necessity.

Bishop’s excitement, his confidence that this would work, was contagious. We all sensed it, humming beneath our skin, alive and eager.

After so many things had been hanging over us for so long, the assurance that we’d be the ones to deal with it all, despite the fact we had very little direction, had begun to feel overwhelming. Now, we had a plan. We had clear, actionable steps we could take.

We had no idea how to save the world in an abstract way, but missions we could do. They had rules, objectives. We could plan, prepare.

But the effects of the planning stages were even more noticeable in Atlas than they were in Bishop. When Atlas wasn’t training with the rest of us, he was with his cousin. I often caught the two of them whispering together into the late hours, huddled up in Charlie’s restaurant, picking at whatever delicious concoction she’d left for them, running through every possibility, every path.

My initial instinct had been to coddle Atlas, thinking he was pushing himself too much. Our training sessions were no walk in the park. Sparring was one thing. But manipulating magic and finding a way to siphon it through to each other? That was next level—both on the mind and the body. There hadn’t been a night in weeks that I hadn’t almost instantly fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillow in whoever’s room I was crashing in that night.

But Wade helped me see the truth.

As tired as Atlas was, he was also unfolding a bit. Coming back to himself. This mission, working with Bishop, it gave him a renewed sense of purpose, a space to filter all that anxiety and fear he’d been harboring close to his chest. This was an outlet, familiar. Like he’d put on a favorite pair of jeans he hadn’t worn in decades, thinking they wouldn’t fit, only to find that they were waiting for him, just as cozy and comfortable as he’d remembered. Maybe even more so, now that they were no longer tarnished by the fear he’d outgrown them.

As much as I resisted at first, I had to admit that Wade was right.

So, we spilled every ounce of ourselves into this mission, letting the excitement and energy fuel us even on nights when our bodies ached down to the bone from countless hours spent teleporting.

Thankfully, Wade, Darius, and I had strengths that allowed us to—ahem—heal quickly through energy exchanges of a more physical kind. Though Eli, Atlas, and Dec each assured me over and over again that they’d never not have energy for that particular activity.

Being together, skin against skin, teasing whispers in the dark of night—they were the moments I cherished most. Soaking up every second I spent with each of them, trying like hell to tattoo every touch, every feeling against my skin, reminding myself over and over again that I was doing this for them—to give them a future.

Until then, I’d let myself be greedy—indulge in every kiss, every lick, every bite that I could until the chance was inevitably robbed from me forever.

As much as I wanted this blissful bubble to last for eternity, the rush of having a plan, the luxury of spending time together with all of them, I knew that it couldn’t.

And the leaps they were making in mastering my powers served as a bittersweet reminder of that.

---