Page 134 of She Haunts Me Still
Mallory rips herself free from the circle, crashing to theswitchgrass below. The other women keep moving, becoming a streak of white around her. She barely notices.
Because blood is dripping from Ezra’s eyes now. His nose, his ears. His whole perfect, beautiful face, covered in the darkest red. Across the fire, Saskia somehow looks even paler, eyes milky white and soulless. Her body remains rigid, like it’s practicing to become a corpse.
Mallory cries out their names and fleetingly wonders if she’s made a horrible mistake. If she’s about to lose them both. If she offered her heart to the creature right now, would there even be anything left?
The angel cackles in her skull, as though he can sense her growing capitulation.Do you know what it’s like to live with regret, pretty thing?
Then, as if pulled by marionette strings, Ezra’s entire body rises, spine arching.
Mallory’s scream turns to a wail. Watching Ezra die like this is worse than Lily’s garish voice, worse than dozens of hungry ravens pecking at her flesh. She wants to run to him, wants to hold him against her, keep him still and quiet until he’s asleep in her arms. And just as she’s about to dissolve into terrified sobs, her gaze sharpens at the weathered book resting at Penelope’s feet.
The Book of Angels. The one Ezra told them to burn to put an end to everything.
To also end his suffering now.
Mallory is distantly aware of the women moving behind her, hands grasping to rethread her into their circle, but instead, she crawls toward the book. The angel laughs and laughs, drawing out every second of Ezra’s torture with ravenous delight. Penelope continues chanting, eyes closed, justas Mallory grabs hold of the cracked leather. She thinks of Lily hovering in her mind, hissing the same instructions.Burn it, burn it, burn it.
Not her heart. Not the demon. Maybe she meant the book all this time.
Mallory tightens her fingers, staring into the fire’s beckoning embers.Ezra, I’m sorry.I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—
With a cry, Mallory hurls the book into the flames.
A terrible sound fills her ears, like metal on metal. A death rattle. Eternal damnation. Wind rushes around and around her, stirring her hair, kicking up leaves—just as Ezra’s neck jolts with a sickening snap.
And then there’s nothing but stillness as he falls.
Motionless. Silent.
Gone.
The women stop spinning. The shrieking in Mallory’s ears plummets to silence.
A few feet away, Ezra lies prone on the ground. Every limb is bent in violent angles, a reddish-black bloodstain spreading and spreading. Grief-stricken tears stream down Mallory’s face, an overwhelmingly dark emptiness taking hold. She crawls toward him—
“No.” Penelope swoops in, hauling Mallory to her feet as several other women bend around Ezra’s lifeless body. “You shouldn’t touch him.”
“Please,” Mallory begs. The island swims before her. “I have to say goodbye.”
At that, Penelope unfurls her grip and Mallory stumbles forward, sinking to her knees at his side.
“Ezra,” she says, touching his bloodied face. She feels theheat of everyone’s stares as she strokes his hair and brushes a kiss to his forehead. “It’s quiet now.”
Before she stands, Mallory slides a hand into her coat. She runs her fingers over her neck and chest, retracing all the places Ezra once made her light up and burn for him.
But the skin is smooth now. Cold. The bite marks have vanished.
As if he never touched her at all.
“Ezra.” She searches for the right words, a promise,something. “I won’t forget.”
As the women tend to Ezra’s cold body, a flash of white slices into Mallory’s vision. Saskia, sitting up, awake.
Her hair is matted and wet, face and neck covered in scratches, but she’s alive, she’salive. Penelope helps Saskia to her feet and Mallory runs toward them, kicking up dirt and sand.
“Sas? Sas!”
The color has returned to Saskia’s face, the opal sheen gone from her eyes. She looks weak and tired, the cuts on her skin deep. But she looks rightatMallory, not through her this time, and in the next breath, throws herself straight into Mallory’s arms.
