Page 141 of Endless Terrors
Finn smiled. Even though we only had seconds left together, I couldn’t help but stare at the rare sight. “Okay, then,” he said. He nodded, almost to himself, and then he repeated, “Okay.”
Tears blinded me. Frantic not to miss a single moment with him, I swiped at my eyes roughly. My voice was ragged as I said, “I’m sorry, Finn. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you.”
Setting the fishing pole down, the werewolf set his elbows on his knees and turned his face toward the horizon. His eyes slid shut, and his lips curved in a soft smile I’d never seen before. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “You gave me purpose again. And they’ve been waiting for me—it’s time I get back to them.”
I couldn’t respond. The look on Finn’s face sent a surge of pain through my chest, and for a few seconds I had to move my face away so he wouldn’t see. I told myself to be brave. Strong. Selfless. All the awful clichés that you only resort to when you have nothing left.
When I finally turned back to Finn, the words I love you crowding in my throat, the boat was empty. He was gone. My grip tightened on the edge. Water lapped in the silence and the shadow of a bird darted over the place where Finn had been sitting. I felt him die. I felt the magic between us fade and fall away. I’d expected it to be some shattering, dramatic agony or explosion, but the spell ended quietly. The part of my soul that Finn had occupied was just … empty. Like the boat still bobbing on the water.
I opened my eyes and absorbed the familiar sensation of being in shock. This couldn’t be happening. This was just another night terror.
“He’s gone, Fortuna.” Laurie’s voice floated across the room. He was standing near the window now, and I wondered how long I’d been sitting there.
“Shut up.” I wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t look away from Finn’s peaceful face. My splayed fingers, which had been shaking in a death grip, curled into a fist on top of my knee. “He’s resting. A healer is coming. He just needs to hold on … hold on a little longer …”
Laurie didn’t answer. I wouldn’t have heard him if he had. My focus was trained on Finn, still hoping, somehow, that he would start healing and open his eyes. My wolf stayed silent. He was always silent, but there was something terrible about his stillness this time.
The realization came slowly, almost like falling asleep. One moment, I was sitting there, desperately waiting for the sound of Zara’s footsteps, staring at Finn’s wounds in wild hope. The next moment a tiny voice inside me whispered, He’s dead. The thought was almost startling, and I looked over at Finn’s face, frowning.
That was when I noticed other details beyond the torn skin and sticky blood. I saw how chalky Finn’s dark skin had gotten. I realized how he’d stopped moving, even the subtle rise and fall I’d felt beneath my palms earlier. Oh, I thought. Then again, more faintly, Oh.
This was real. This was happening.
I lifted my head as though it weighed a thousand pounds. Collith had returned at some point, and he stood beside Laurie. Both of them watched me silently, but their expressions couldn’t have been more different. Tension bracketed Collith’s mouth, and his dark brows were drawn together. Laurie looked … dangerous. His eyes were overly bright and fae. His body was preternaturally still, like a predator’s on high alert.
Surprisingly, Collith was the one to speak first. “What happened?” he asked.
All at once, I saw the scene how they must have. What remained of Finn. The obvious evidence that whatever had killed him wasn’t human. The new set of footprints on the floor, just like the ones Lucifer had left behind in Emma’s hospital room.
When I saw that, hysterical laughter rose up inside me. It got stuck in my throat. I wasn’t entirely sure I even knew how to answer Collith’s question. I’d talked about Oliver to both of them at least once over the past year, but I had no idea how to tell these powerful, tense faeries that my imaginary friend had fucked me, then used me to get out of his prison. They had no idea that he was the thing from my past come to life. That I’d brought to life.
“Breathe, Fortuna,” Laurie commanded suddenly.
I blinked at him, realizing half a beat later that my lungs were on fire. Right. Air was good. Inhaling in a burst, I nodded at Laurie to express my gratitude, then continued to think about Collith’s question. What happened?
I tried to go back and remember every moment leading up to this one, but my mind flinched away from reliving it. As Collith and Laurie kept waiting for an answer, I thought of what Lucifer had whispered in my best friend’s ear.
“Oliver became what he was meant to be,” I said, my voice hollow.
Before either of them could respond, I shifted, which caused my hand to land in the puddle of Finn’s blood. My stomach heaved, and for several seconds, it took all my concentration not to throw up everywhere. I bent over, which brought me closer to the blood, and the world tilted. I shifted again to get away from the smell, eyes squeezed shut. I counted and breathed.
To my relief, the storm inside me abated. Just as I started to sit upright, I felt something hot and wet drip off the edge of my jaw.
“Sorry,” I said, wiping it away. But there was already another tear racing to take its place. I wiped that one away, too, and repeated, “Sorry.”
Why was I apologizing? I frowned again, shaking my head. Focus, Fortuna. Collith had asked me something. I couldn’t seem to scrape any more thoughts together. I was hearing a high-pitched ringing sound now, and I still hadn’t pushed myself up.
Boots appeared in front of me. Then strong arms scooped me up, and my head and shoulder rested against a hard chest. But the blood, I tried to say. Even talking felt like too much right now, though. Collith moved to sit on the couch with me still in his lap, and I didn’t fight him. His white shirt was already covered in red stains.
As the seconds ticked by, the ringing stopped. Silence crowded in, and I couldn’t decide which was worse. My mind had finally started working again, but for a few minutes, it was only capable of reviewing the most basic facts. Oliver was real. Oliver had gotten out of the dreamscape.
And then he’d ripped my best friend open.
There was a sensation on the edge of my subconscious, like a bubble struggling to the surface. It was a memory. No, a voice. You’re the one who lets him out. That’s what Nym had said to me, once.
The Time Walker had been trying to warn me, in his own broken way. When Heilel had escaped, I’d assumed Nym was talking about him. I may have set two very bad things loose in the world, but the devil hadn’t murdered Finn. The devil hadn’t killed my parents. Oliver was the one I’d loved the most.
“I don’t understand,” I said dully. Hearing my own voice felt strange after so much silence. I didn’t lift my head from Collith’s chest as I wondered, more to myself than anyone else, “How did he get out? After all this time?”
