Page 13 of Little Mate

Squeezing her shoulder, I turn and face the same door as her. “We can’t tell him any of this. Not yet.”

“Agreed.”

“And no hiding anything from the other. We face them all together.”

“I’ll never purposely keep something from you again.”

“Purposely?” I ask, flicking my eyes in her direction. She’s already looking at me. “Mind explaining that one?”

“Sister, I can’t hide what I don’t see.” Her statement is simple, but I get it. All magic is susceptible to corruption—all except mine. The god of death doesn’t allow interference nor deceit. He’s not a merciful being, and neither are those closest to him.

Death has many faces.

The taker. The collector. The keeper.

You steal from one, and hell will rain down on your head.

“By blood and pact,” I say, extending a hand out for her to hold. Our fingers intertwine, grip tight, and I feel her emotions—experience the wariness in her soul. “We are one.”

“We are one.”

“Welcome, children. You must be exhausted,” Uncle Roberto greets us at the door of his home in the city a few hours later. After getting off the train, we stopped to eat at a small café serving those exiting the station. It wasn’t much, a few croissants with coffee and milk, but it held us over while walking toward the center of Naples where he stands with his long robe overshadowing his thin frame. His resemblance to our father is minimal; all they share is the same height, hair color, and the one mole just below his left eye. He’s also a non-practitioner. No magic, but a great teacher. “Please, come in.”

The guards look over at me and I nod, giving them the okay to resume our preparations; one will stand guard at the front while the other two grab our horses after a small break. They need the respite just as much, and the road ahead is uncertain.

We have to leave today, there’s too much to do to delay this any longer.

Our uncle watches the exchange silently, but I see the questions in his eyes. Not that we plan to give him answers, and instead, Isa and I pass him after a quick kiss to the cheek. Leo, however, is another story. His attention is already on the delicious scent of food coming from deeper in the large home.

“Where is she?”

“Silla’s in the kitchen, kid.” His chuckle is loud. A bit forced. There’s also tension around his eyes—a slight rigidness in his posture. “She’s been cooking all day…said we’d have visitors today.”

“Guess she was right.”

If he senses any reproach in my tone, our uncle hides it, keeping his attention on Leo. “Go on…” his head tilts in the direction of the kitchen “…go surprise her.”

Leo, though, looks back at us and waits until we nod. The kid’s smart. Knows more than people think. “I’ll be back.”

“Go stuff your face, but if she made bombolone, back off.”

Rubbing his hands like a villain, he begins walking backward toward our aunt and food. “I make no promises. Sweets before salty.”

“Try me.” Taking a threatening step toward him, the kid turns and runs. His footsteps can be heard, the slapping of the soles loud against the terrazzo flooring. We were quiet for a few minutes, my sister pacing behind me. She might just be angrier than me but hides it better.

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes snap to his, but before I can answer, Isa’s hand moves in my line of sight, and I look over. My sister isn’t looking at me, though. Her sole attention is on him. “Are you?”

“More than you will ever understand, Isabella. He was my brother.”

“Then why did you give his children your back when we needed you the most?” As she talks, I’m taking in the glossy texture of her eyes, and it has nothing to do with tears. She’s here with us, yet she’s watching—experiencing what the universe wants her to. That’s how her visions work; at any time or place, when they come you have no control. Can’t pick or choose. No time to prepare. “And don’t tell me you didn’t have the chance to reach out. Each of our guards came through here—on the to and from of their journey—and while you gave them housing, not once did you send back word.”

“You’re hurt, and I accept that, but—”

“You missed his ceremony,” I interrupt, gripping my sister’s arm to halt her steps forward. “Not that we were able to give him much of one, not with having to run and hide for days on end until reaching the nearest port and taking a ship out of the country. All we could do is pray to Thanatos and ask him to make his journey easy. Not that your brother listens; he still lingers, you know. Waiting. Unable to rest, even after my mother joined him. Her body’s resting beside his, but neither was given the rightful burial they deserve from those who love them.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Isa’s laugh is tinged with sadness. “They’ve always been needy and unable to rest without our family being complete.”

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