Page 78 of Cuckoo (Kindred)

“Should’ve thought of that,” Art said, rising to his feet and sliding his hands into his pockets. “You let us all down. You were supposed to be his normal.”

“You think I wanted this?” she demanded, shoving away from the door. Moisture stung the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t want to leave him. I love him.”

He grew stony, and an icy breeze swept around her calves. “Not enough,” Art said. “I sacrificed my life for you to have each other, and this is how you repay that?”

“You’re mad at me?” she asked, edging over to him. “I did everything I could, everything I could for him.”

“I told you to be normal. I told you to give up all the macho bullshit.”

“We had to find out, had to know what Kahlil knew about Future’s Hope—”

“You think that matters?” Art asked. No longer cool or accepting, this man was angry and his scowl hurt her heart… if she still had one. “You think one incident twenty years ago was enough to lose your life for? He’s all alone, Zara. You left him alone!”

“No!” she said, slamming her hands onto the back of the couch. “I supported him! The Kindred is his life! He needed me!”

“He still does!” Art said, rounding the couch. “You think he’ll survive alone? He lost his parents! He lost me! You’re all he has left!”

She knew that, and the skidding tears wouldn’t slow. Falling against Art, he took her into his arms and soothed her by stroking her hair. “It’s ok,” he said, soft again, more like the Art she needed. “I told you he needed you. I told you to be with him. That you weren’t like her.”

“Cuckoo,” she said, pushing away. “Is she here?”

If the Atlas warehouse had claimed Mischa’s life, Zara could face her murderer. “I haven’t checked the newest residents,” he smiled, touching her cheek bone, stroking her as Brodie would.

Getting the chance to talk to Art again made this transition easier. “Are you happy?” she asked. “Is this a good place? You get to be with your sister, your brother-in-law. You know the truth. You know every truth.”

His smile grew warm. “I do.” He nodded and turned her to lift her onto the back of the couch where she’d once sat. “I know he will make it if you are with him. I know he needs you. I know I left him in your care.”

Trembling, she sucked her lips around her teeth to chew on the lower one for a second. “What if I’m not enough? What if I can’t get him through?”

His confidence didn’t waver. “You can get him through anything,” Art said. “But you can’t do it from here. You need to go back to him. You need to make him see that his priority one is you.”

Heavy sorrow made her crave her love. “He’s lost everything. I thought I would lose him, too, when he grieved you. I worried that Grant’s death would push him over the edge, that I might lose him for good.”

Art cupped her chin and tipped her head up to look her in the eye. “You’re doing just fine. That door needs to stay open. Without you, he’s lost.”

Her head began to spin, and she closed her eyes to try to regain her focus. Her ears were pounding. “Tell Grant I’m sorry.”

Art frowned. “Grant?”

Zara opened her mouth to ask questions, but a heavy black cloak fell over her consciousness again, and her mind was erased.

TWENTY-THREE

It was warm. Whatever was over her body was clamping her down tight, and she didn’t appreciate being restricted. Picking up one leg, she attempted to kick but found herself sluggish and slow.

“Art,” she croaked, trying to seek the answers the celestial ambassador had. “Art…”

“She’s awake.”

The words were filled with anticipation and hope, and as she forced her eyes open, she was met with a flurry of movement, though it took her a few seconds to realize the formless shapes encroaching on her were bodies and none of them were Art.

After a few more blinks, she saw Thad nearest, Brodie behind him, and Tuck at his back. “Where’s Art?” she asked, and the men shared a frown. “He was just here.”

Thad tipped his head toward Brodie to explain in an aside. “Hallucinations are common in near-death experiences. People often see dead relatives, bright lights, sometimes it’s a familiar place. Typically, patients mention a feeling of euphoria or despair.”

Hallucinations. Was Art just a delusion created by her dying mind? Standing at the end of the bed, Zave drew her eye, his brow was furrowed in what had to be concern.

That made her attempt a smile. “Xavier,” she whispered. “Were you worried about me?” She got a kick out of that because he rarely looked at her and spoke to her even less.

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