“Watch over Rahil for me,” Mercer told her. He would have begged if it came to that.
She nodded in a way that he tried to read as calm and contained instead of drowning in the depths of shock. There was nothing he could do about that now though, he told himself. And the way his body seemed willing to accept it, he figured he, too, was probably still in shock.
It was terrible work.
Mercer could barely remember the moment he’d moved toward William, just the weight of the man’s body going limp under his grasp, and that weight lingered, growing with each scoop of the shovel, digging himself farther and farther into the grave. And he thought maybe that was the way it was supposed to be.
If he had participated in William’s death, and that didn’t sicken him, it would imply something far worse than this.
Under the shade of the house’s gothic roof peak, Natalie rolled William’s body into the pit, sprawling him there, limp and unseeing, blood thick along the torn creases of his neck bite, and Mercer hurled up what little bile was left in his stomach. Then, he returned to work.
By the time he took his place back at Rahil’s side, he hurt in more ways than one, but he was alive, and Lydia was alive, and Rahil was alive, and so they would all remain. That, he decided, was enough. Enough, to let go.
38
RAHIL
Mercer was there when Rahil awoke, just as he’d promised.
He had dirt on his hands and blood under his fingernails and a plastic bag of ice on his head, but he was there, cradling Rahil’s feet in his lap and breathing in low, slow inhales. The mere sight of him made Rahil feel bathed in warmth, safe and loved and content despite the lingering ache in his bones. Somehow, regardless of all the sleep he’d managed to catch in the last day, he still didn’t feel properlyrested. Such was his curse, it seemed. At least the wounds in his palms weren’t screaming in agony anymore.
“Migraine?” Rahil asked, groggily.
“Just a headache,” Mercer replied, lifting the edge of the ice-baggy to squint at Rahil. Then he smiled. “You?”
He grinned right back. “Sore and tired, but good.” Then his brain snapped on enough to come to his senses. “Is William—Lydia—my roommates—”
“Avery and Jim took her out for ice cream with my card.” He looked like he wasn’t sure whether that was a mistake or not. A financial one, probably, but only insofar as the amount of ice cream the three of them were likely to buy with their momentarily unlimited funds. “I don’t know about William, but I thought your backyard could use a little finishing, starting with that flowerbed—it seemed in need of some fertilizer so I threw that down beneath a couple rose bushes—dug it deeper first to fit it all.”
Fertilizer, huh… well, Rahilhadbeen meaning to start composting.
“I used some of those broken slabs against the side wall to make a kind of patio at the end of your pathway and I might throw the deck chairs from my garage on it,” Mercer continued. “I was thinking about a pond, too? I never got around to doing anything interesting with my yard because of the shed, so this could be nice.”
Whether Mercer was sidestepping William’s burial out loud for misplaced security reasons or for the sake of his own conscience, Rahil decided not to push. He’d participated in the ending of another human’s life—bravely, and for good reason—but Rahil loved himbecausehe was the kind of person who’d regret that. It made him think, sadly, of Matt’s death. Maybe Rahil would meet the vamp who’d done it someday, and then he would tell them that the tragedy they’d committed was painful and horrible, and that he hadn’t held it against them for one single moment and he never would.
Death could be senseless, and unnecessary, and still the only possible outcome.
And maybe… maybe sometimes that meant it was no one’s fault.
Slowly, Rahil pulled his legs out of Mercer’s lap, curling them in front of his chest as he shifted to lean against the thick bulk of Mercer’s shoulder. He gingerly slipped his fingers through Merc’s dirty ones, trying not to stretch the wound in his palm lest it resume bleeding. “I think we still have something to talk about… from before all this.”
Mercer squeezed his hand so tenderly he seemed worried he might break more than just the scab. “The unholy gold… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me?”
“You gave it to the scientist.” He tried not to let it sound like an accusation. It wasn’t meant to be one.
“I nearly didn’t, but I had to choose Lydia.”
“I understand. I hate it, but what’s done is done.” Rahil gave a weary sigh. “You’re hardly the only one of us who needs a little forgiveness, though. I was thinking more on the lines of Leah.”
Mercer’s eyes closed. “You were trying to tell me about her, and I was the one who stopped you.”
“I’d wanted to so many times already that night,” Rahil answered. “I just… I had tried to wait for a moment that wouldn’t break your heart, so when you gave me the option to bail for a little longer, I took it.”
“You could have denied it altogether, even after Lydia pulled out your fangs—I was ready to believe anything that would have made this simple.” Mercer’s voice was thick, but somehow stable despite the emotion, like he’d thought this through a thousand times already, and his decision was long since made. “But you didn’t. And I respect that.”
Rahil tried to crack a little grin through the ache in his chest. “Babe, you really shouldn’t respect me for doing the bare minimum. But I’ll take it.”
“Rahil.” Mercer chuckled. “That’s the least of the reasons I respect you.” He leaned the side of his head against Rahil’s, and softer, he added, “I wonder if Leah went to you because she could sense something from you. That you were like her: brilliant, persistent, nurturing, stupidly brave—willing to take that risk in the first place. That like her, you’d be important to me.”
