Page 35 of Inside the Wicked

I’m sad for him. Adam seemed so taken by Henry. I never met him, but he sounded kind and charming.

Adam shrugs, but it does little to brush off his dejection. “He met someone else. It seems pretty serious, or at least it could become so, whereas I come with the caveat of, ‘Please be patient, because I’m still locked in the closet and don’t know if I’ll ever get out.’”

My face falls. “You deserve someone who can be patient for you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He speaks like he’s already given up hope. I can’t bear the thought of him settling for someone just because he doesn’t believe anyone will understand his life and why he’s not ready for people to know about his bisexuality.

“Have you been getting into any more trouble?” he asks. “What was the deal with that asshole in the bathroom at the club who claims to know Rhett’s alive?”

“He’s, uh, Rhett’s friend. His name is Rix,” I say.

While Adam knows Rhett’s credentials as Secret Service were fraudulent, I haven’t gotten around to telling him the whole story yet.

“Be careful, Ana. You’re vulnerable to exploitation when it comes to him,” he says.

“I know that,” I snap. “I’m not naïve. You don’t know what I do.”

“Then tell me, please. I’ve been trying to make up for last year, and I’m being patient as fuck, but you still don’t trust me.”

I sigh deeply. “It’s not that. It’s just ... it’s dangerous shit I’d rather no one else was involved in.”

He gives me a pleading look. “Iwantto be involved. If it were me, you’d want in too.”

I purse my lips at that, remembering how it was with me and Rhett. I wouldn’t have accepted his refusal to keep me out of his affairs once I knew about it.

“Fine. It starts with this,” I say.

A round of applause breaks out as the singer finishes and begins to walk offstage.

“With what?”

“Just watch.”

The host announces me after a short speech and a brief interlude. I take a deep breath, thinking of Rhett, his confidence in me.

Then I walk on with a bright smile and my chin held high.

“It’s a pleasure to perform for you all tonight,” I say. I can make out most of the rows of seats, especially my parents sitting at the front. Even my dad is smiling with a warmth I’ve missed dearly.

I’m doing this for them. And for Rhett.

Wherever he is, I hope he sees this broadcast. Alistair might be making him watch me if only to make him suffer, to make him think I’ve moved on and I’m happily living my life without him.

When my accompanying pianist begins, I lift the violin to my chin, and I play.

For a few minutes I forget the crowd and pretend it’s Christmas Eve again. I’ve chosen to play the same song as that night, and Rhett will know it’s for him. Even though he’s alive, grief still holds a tight fist in my chest, and it won’t release until I see him for myself. Hold him for real. Our future togetherbalances on a fragile thread, and I try to wrap more promise and determination around it as I play this song.

I feel the cold and the snowfall. I feel Rhett’s eyes on me. Then, as I finish, I expect to find him pulling me into him, and instead the hall of strangers and the buzz of applause shatters the dream.

I don’t move, glancing over the crowd, who are pleased and clapping and joyful. I watch them all as their attention is stolen by the screens around featuring the feed of my performance. I look too as the image of me on this stage flickers with an interference. I bow as it changes from me to a black screen.

Then the animation plays—a serpent that weaves its way across, loops around, and crosses over itself, forming the infinity symbol. Xoid.

Then I smile at the addition, at the little bird that flies over and stops at the serpent’s head.

The little birdcansurvive in the pit of serpents.

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