Page 26 of Secrets in a Sandstorm

Teddy

My eyes burn, but there are no tears left.

If I were braver, I would have mademyfeelings known. I am the coward who doesn’t deserve even a tenth of what Teddy was offering. He was full of life and laughter, and I can’t remember what it’s like to feel anything but loss.

I read the letter again and again until I have memorized each word, then I place it in my pocket. If the storm stops this second, I won’t be able to get up and walk out.

Perhaps I am meant to die in this cave.

Again.

My waking dream of a violent death at a soldier’s hand now offers some comfort. The war won’t end, but I don’t need to fight anymore, and Teddy doesn’t need to be alone.

I consider writing to my parents but see no point. Thereis no one else I wish to write to. In the dark, I contemplate my options. I do not want my parents to be devastated or for them to be praying for my soul.

Instead, I draw inspiration from my waking dream. One cut in the right place.

With my mind made up, I sit up to locate the vodka and the satchel—so it appears that I protected it until the end. The golden cat and armband glint in the light. While I am hesitant to touch them again, I place the cat in the satchel, and I slide the armband onto Teddy’s wrist. For a moment, I am the priest again, wanting to dress his lover in stolen gold before worshipping at his feet.

Now I am believing my own imaginings.

I’ve lost my mind, but I no longer care about such trivial matters.

I whisper in Teddy’s ear. “You can wear it in Cairo and nothing else.”

It would have been easy to love him if I had let myself try. And if I had, maybe we wouldn’t be in this cave. Replaying a twisted version of what happened last time. As tempted as I am to lie next to him, to hold him close, I cannot bear the thought of being found like that.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I inch away to lean against the wall. My leg rests near him, and from where I sit, it appears as though he is only sleeping and will wake at any moment.

I pull the pain shots out of the med kit and drink the vodka like it’s water. After that, the weight of dread lifts, and I float, holding onto the thread of hope that there will be a next time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PRESENT DAY

MAX

Iland on my ass, golden cat is in my hand. I drop it like Bast bit me and stare at her smiling cat-face as the echoes of two different deaths play through my mind. The scent of the blood and the taste of the liquor fill me.

What the fuck?

But I haven’t been bitten by a scorpion because Cyril had the same experience when he touched the gold cat. We both were the priest who, in desperation to be with his lover as he died, ate his nose.

I cough as my stomach heaves.

Fuck. Talk about obsessed. But I’d rather that devotion than the darkness of Cyril’s depression. The bleakness. I press my hand to my chest where my heart is aching, caving in. I am familiar with that loss, though for me, it was my brother.

For a couple of seconds, I can’t breathe.

I’m only here because of him, and yet, I am meant to be here. With Harrison. He is Ay. He is Teddy.

Beneath my palm, my heart races. I am very much alive and with no stab wounds. A shudder runs through me; thememory of the bite of metal is far too real, as if it were my own. I half expect to see blood spilling over my clothes and pooling in the sand, but there’s nothing there. I’m fine. I’m me. In my clothes, not someone else’s uniform.

“You okay?” Harrison asks around the torch in his mouth, still reaching for the satchel as though no time has passed.

I scrub my hand over my face and sigh with relief. Whatever it was, it’s over.

“Yeah…” I think I am. Was I in the past with Cyril and Djau? Dying with them?

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