The pain and anger retracts just enough for me to unclench my jaw and open my mouth. “Let’s be done with it,” I say, not quite knowing what I mean even as I voice the words.
“If … if that’s what you want,” Bolan whispers back.
I can feel his grief. He has it tamped down, practically smothered, but it threads through his words.
I open my hand over the water’s edge. Armin’s ashes coat my fingers, but I’ve managed to protect the tiny mound in my palm. Bolan keeps his hand under mine, but I can feel the tremble that runs through him now.
“I have to tell you something,” he croaks quietly.
“I already know.”
He stiffens as if steeling himself against a physical blow, then shakes his head. “Not … that. This is … you need to know this to … keep moving forward. I think. I … know …”
“Then tell me, Bolan,” I say, surprised I’m capable of snapping at him while I’m holding a handful of my beloved brother’s ashes.
“I know …” he whispers, close enough that I feel his breath stir my hair and fan across my ear. “I know why.”
I freeze, literally numb but completely understanding what he means.Why. As in, thewhythat’s led to me holding a handful of my brother’s ashes in thenow.
Bolan continues, “I know … how.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if I might block out his words even though they’re already echoing through my mind, embedding into my brain.
“Tell me,” I rasp, forcing myself to open my eyes, to keep breathing, my chest so tight and breath so shallow that I can barely articulate the words.
He swallows harshly, then hesitates.
“Bolan!”
He takes a shuddering breath. “It’s just, you … I can’t lose you more than I’ve already —”
“Tell me, Bolan.”
“There’s this new drug …” he whispers.
I close my eyes again, and I’m light-headed suddenly. Actually swaying on my feet. Bolan tugs me a little closer so I don’t fall over. It’s an instinctual protective reaction, I think, because his tone is remote, almost empty.
Bolan’s voice is never devoid of emotion. Never.
“There’s always a new drug,” I murmur back, waiting for his next words to embed even more shards of pain into my heart. “But the awry aren’t affected by …”
Bolan nods, then swallows again. I still have my eyes shut, still primed to weather whatever he has to tell me. So I feel the movement, the sides of our faces almost pressed together, rather than see it.
I wait in thebeforebecause I have no choice. I have to survive whatever revelation Bolan needs to tell me.
I’ve already fallen apart.
I cannot completely disintegrate.
Pampered princess or not, I don’t have that particular luxury.
So I hold myself in the moment. I anchor myself, my feet in the mud, the marble urn pressed against my chest … and within Bolan’s arms.
“This one, this drug, is different.” Bolan’s tone and tenor firm, as if he needs to get the words out, to be done with the secret he’s been carrying. “There’s been a few variants of it because most dealers have been cutting it with something else. Another suppressant. The original drug was medical grade. Rumor has it that there was some sort of big heist rather than a leak or a single disgruntled chemist. It was developed to …”
“Take down an awry,” I say, opening my eyes to a view of the pond, already knowing the direction of Bolan’s tale. “To contain awry.”
“Well …” He clears his throat. “Powerful essence-wielders at least.”
