Page 112 of Worse Than Wicked
That’s the part that stops me. That’s stopped me from going after them already. I had to be here to honor his wishes, even though he’s not. I’m all that’s left of him. So I carried on with what he wants. Flowers. Wailers.
Stopping short of vengeance isn’t in my nature, though.
“She’s right,” Mabel says gently. “I think… I think we went too far. I got carried away. Maybe we all did. But we have to stop. If we don’t stop now, it will never end.”
I said almost those exact words to Duke about her. Now she sees it, when it’s too late. When it doesn’t matter.
None of it matters. Nothing will bring him back, change the outcome. Nothing short of reversing time could undo what we’ve done, what we’ve lost. It can never be found, even if I find her. And what makes me think I could, after I couldn’t for the past year, when it mattered? If I’d found her before, this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t find her. I’m not a god, nomatter what I want to believe, who I kill, to convince myself. A god could bring him back.
“Just like sending him home to be buried with the family,” Royal grumbles. “I wouldn’t want to be buried with the bastard for all of eternity, but Duke loved Dad despite everything. He’d want to be laid to rest next to him.”
I don’t know how they figure out the things he would want. He’s not here to want them, so it seems meaningless to me. But I know he loved Dad, so I have to trust them. I know he loved Olive too, though I will never understand why. And I know that he always wanted kids, and she’s the closest he will ever come to having one. That’s what makes me believe them. They understand the reason behind these things, have some insight into human nature that I don’t. And since I can’t refute it, I have to trust their judgment on this, because Duke was the human side to us. All that’s left now is the demon.
After the crowd disperses, and people have moved inside to eat and share stories, to laugh and cry and take solace in each other in some ritual form of community that only lasts until they leave this place, if the pattern I’ve observed at other funerals stays consistent, a few people linger.
I pause before making my way over to where Colt and Lo stand near an oversized floral arrangement, their heads bent toward each other, conversing.
Colt looks up first, his eyes hooded and cold, even while they’re still red from crying. In them, I see exactly the same impenetrable aloofness that Mabel carries, the one that drew me to her from the start, before she entangled me in her web. Back then, I thought I’d crack her open and lay it bare, solve all her mysteries. Now, I know I never will. There is something in them that’s beyond the reach of humanity, or perhaps only beyond the reach of reason. That’s all I have to work with now.
I can’t imagine going forward with that handicap for the rest of my life. I’ve always had Duke there to help me, to dumb things down for me so that I could understand. Because when it comes to emotion, to all the subtle, intangible facets of normal people, I was the one who stumbled blindly. I’m only beginning to comprehend all that we’ve lost. Not just our human side, but the part thatunderstandshumanity.
“What do you want?” Colt asks.
“It’s okay,” Gloria says, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m ready.”
I look back and forth between them, searching for meaning, for context clues. If I could memorize every word, gesture, and facial expression and bring them home to my twin like I used to, he would tell me what they’re saying without words. He would tell me if that look on Gloria’s face is pity, or sympathy, or trepidation. But I can’t do that now. I am flying blind. I will fly blind for the rest of my life.
“I’ll get Mabel,” Colt says. “She should be here.”
“Okay,” Gloria says. “She’s over there with your dad and that vampire guy.”
Colt chuckles, but when his gaze moves across me, it’s as remote as ever. He walks over to get his sister, who’s standing with her father, her uncle, and a tall stranger with black hair and pale skin. Whatever made Mabel the way she is, it made her brother the same. There’s something in them that none of the other Darlings have, something that cannot be destroyed even when they’re crushed to dust beneath our thumbs. Preston reacted with anger, could be tempted to revenge. Devlin ran to protect what was his. Colt and Mabel stayed.
They endured every torture with grim, steadfast perseverance, even a quiet kind of dignity. We broke their bodies and their minds, but they never surrendered. They both show all the signs of human weakness and emotion when it comesto suffering, both their own and that of others, but they never bowed and scraped, never groveled. Maybe that is what drew my brother to Colt—the mystery, the similarity to the girl we loved, the ever-unattainable prey that finally drives the hunter mad.
Gloria clears her throat. “So,” she says. “I guess the last time we saw each other, I was threatening to kill you if you ever came back.”
“Do you regret not doing it then?”
“No,” she says. “I don’t think I’m cut out for jail. I enjoy my freedom too much.”
“Not even if it would have saved him?” I ask, glancing at the casket, now closed over half my life.
“When you put it that way…” she says. “I won’t lie and say everyone here isn’t thinking the same thing. We’d all happily make the trade if we could.”
“You’re as heartless as Mabel.”
She smiles. “Just as you made me.”
“It’s impressive, really,” I muse. “You were perfectly formed.”
“By your hand.”
“And his.”
She nods, her gaze straying to the casket too. “And his.”
“I know it doesn’t change anything. You’ve made up your mind like everyone else. But this one time, for what it’s worth, I’m thinking the same as everyone else.”
