Page 105 of The Devil and His Sparrow

“The coast is clear,” Zagan murmured. In an instant, the haze cleared, and the staticky charge touching my skin faded. “I’ve put a veil over the room for now. If anyone tries to come in, they’ll forget why they wanted in here and leave. You should be fine to spend as much time with her as you want.”

I squeezed his hand, grateful that he was doing this, even if he wouldn’t do the one thing I asked of him. My throat had closed up again, only getting worse as I slowly approached Gemma’s bed. I stared down at her ghostly, frail body, and I nearly broke. I wanted to turn back time to when she was laughing and having fun with me and her friends. I wanted to rip all the medical gadgets off her and plead with the world to let me take her place.

But instead, I carefully sat beside her on the bed then leaned back so that I laid beside her. I rested my head beside hers on the pillow and gently took her hand in mine. My lips trembled when I felt how cold and how frail it had gotten. I feared it might crumble right there in my hold.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. My heart lurched, and her bleary eyes took a few minutes to focus on me beside her. I was grateful I wasn’t a sobbing mess right now. I didn’t want her to see and know what we all worried was coming.

“Hey, you,” I said softly, plastering on as much of a smile as I could. I wasn’t even sure if I succeeded.

She blinked, and her muted hazel eyes were slow to open again. “Iyla.” Her chapped lips barely opened as she uttered my name, and her voice was more of a rasp than the sweet, jovial sound it usually was. “I was … worried I wouldn’t … get to see you.”

She spoke slowly, like just the mere act of forming words sucked all the energy out of her.

I had to swallow multiple times before I managed to croak, “I’m always gonna be here. Always. I’d never not come to you.”

Her exhausted eyes closed again, and it felt like minutes went by before they reopened. Her small fingers wrapped tighter around my hand, but I noticed how weak even that was. I tried to keep the misery off my face, but I knew glimpses of it slipped through the mask I wore.

“Will,” Gemma asked quietly, her eyes finally locking on mine, “dying hurt?”

My eyebrows slammed down, and I shook my head adamantly against the pillow even as a tear slid down my cheek. “You aren’t going to die. You—”

“Please,” Gemma begged. The first sign of strength entered her voice and came out with that one word. “I know … it’s coming. I don’t want to … be reassured. I just want the truth.”

I stared into her eyes—the eyes of an eleven year old who seemed to have aged a lifetime since I last saw her. The eyes of a little girl who had to grow up in pain and sickness. The eyes of a girl who’d never get to see everything life had to offer. The eyes of a gift to this world.

I couldn’t fight my tears anymore. I shifted closer to her and tucked her head under my chin while wrapping my arms around her. I kept my grip loose to protect her weak form, yet still held on with all the love I had in me. I closed my eyes as tears fell from my cheeks and into her hair.

I didn’t want to give her honesty. I wanted to lie and say she’d pull through this, because more than anything, that’s what I wanted. But it wasn’t what she needed from me.

My throat burned with emotion as I finally whispered, “No. No, I don’t—I don’t think it will hurt. I think … it will be like falling asleep.”

Her small frame seemed to relax slightly in my arms, and that only made the fierce ache in my chest twist sharper. What a fucked up world we lived in that she found comfort in the prospect of dying.

“Do you think … the place we go when we die … will be scary?” Gemma asked softly against my chest.

“Not where you’re going,” Zagan suddenly answered.

I looked to where he stood at the foot of the bed. He briefly met my eyes, and when I saw the urgency swirling with the pain in his gaze, I realized he was answering as much for me as he was Gemma. He wanted—needed—us to know that Gemma would be going somewhere good. He was trying to offer some semblance of reassurance to the both of us.

I felt Gemma’s attempt at a smile against my chest and heard the faint trace of it when she said, “Maybe I’ll get … to see Dad there.”

I sucked in a shaky wet breath and had to tilt my head back to force the tears to fall away. “I bet you will. I bet he’s already there, waiting with one of his big, warm hugs.”

“I’ll make sure … to hug him for you, too,” Gemma said, releasing my hand to wrap her arm around me.

My nose scrunched at the fresh onslaught of tears. I wanted to pull Gemma in tight and hug her hard, but I was too afraid of breaking her. So I kept my arms loose around her frame and just pressed my face further into the top of her head, biting my lip to keep from crying out until something metallic filled my mouth. The two of us didn’t move for some time. She clung to me with her weak arms, and I shook with silent tears that fell into her hair.

Gemma eventually pulled her arm away and leaned back so that she could look up at me. Her cracked lips lifted into a faint grin. “I wish I could hear you play piano one last time.”

My mind went back to that day I’d told her I was going to play again. She’d been so excited for me, and I knew that if she could, she would’ve come to every show. She’d always loved listening to me and Dad play, and now … now she’d never get to again.

Zagan cleared his throat, drawing both of our attention. He looked between us and offered a small smile. “I can help with that. Gem, can you close your eyes for me?”

My heart constricted with the nickname he’d given her, and I couldn’t help but think about Gemma and how she’d never find her Zagan, the person who faced the storms with her and came out on the other side a better person because of it.

Gemma’s eyes closed.

Zagan looked at the open space in the corner of her room, and with a wave of his hand, a small vertical piano appeared. He gave me a small nod then looked at Gemma. “You can open them now.”

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