Page 73 of Mortal Things

“Étienne!” I say again.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his heartbeat stops. He falls out of my hands and collapses to the ground, and at the same time, I feel the warmth in my veins of a soul being claimed, of a life ending.

He is dead.

FROM THE STREET outside Laine’s apartment, you’d see the light turn on in her bedroom, then her silhouette as she goes to open the door. Maybe the girl’s just picking up a package, because no one seems to be standing out there—that you can see, anyway.

But Laine finds a messenger waiting for her, sent by a god, and she knows immediately that something has happened to Rose.

She’s still a little groggy. She’d just come back that morning after an all-night job for Raven, claiming a soul out in Trenton, and she’d promptly gone to bed. In fact, her earbuds are still looped around her neck from when she’d fallen asleep, music still softly playing. She reaches up now to untangle them from her blue pendant necklace. Once, the pendant had been a gift from Rose. Now it is her Artifact, warning her of danger before it approaches.

Before the doorbell, she had been dreaming about Rose. The dream is always a variation of the same scene—Laine has found Rose again and is apologizing to her for what she’d done. Always, it is set somewhere different. They are on a ferry in London. They are standing before Tower Bridge. They are in a god’s estate. They are back at Rose’s old school.

It doesn’t matter where they are. Every time, Laine takes her hands and talks in a rush, trying to explain herself.

I’m so sorry. I wish I could have told you. I had no choice.

Rose pulls her hands back, walks away. And Laine wakes in a cold sweat.

Maybe it’s because Étienne had come to see her.

She always looks forward to his visits because he’s the only lifeline she has to Rose. He came to see her right after Rose’s first confirmation test, which brought him and Rose to New York. It’d taken every fiber of willpower in Laine’s soul to not run and find Rose at the Met, to get a glimpse of her friend and see for herself how she was doing. Did she look like how Laine remembered? Was her hair longer, shorter? Did she still have that same coat?

Instead, after Rose had left for London, Étienne had come to Queens to see Laine. She’d sat there in her baggy pajamas and nursed a hot tea while he told her that Rose had failed her first test, that he was trying his best to keep her from becoming Raven’s Regent.

Laine had scowled. Why did he choose her? she asked.

Étienne had stayed silent for a long moment before putting down his own mug and fixing a sober stare on her.

Telling you would put you in too much danger, he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. What kind of danger?

But he just shook his head. Listen to me. There might come a day soon where I won’t be able to give you these updates. If that happens, you need to go find her. It means she’ll need your help. All right?

She swallowed. He was telling her to break her vow to Raven as a Harbinger, that she was to step permanently out of Rose’s life.

But—she started to say, but he shook his head.

You once made me promise to protect her, he said firmly. I’m asking you to do the same.

When? she asked. How will I know?

You’ll know.

Even then, Laine could hear the difference in his voice when he talked about her.

She took a deep breath and decided against questioning him when it was clear he couldn’t give her anything more. Her hands trembled in her lap.

Be careful, Étienne, she said instead. I heard about Terran’s death.

Étienne had given her that lopsided smile. I’ll be fine, he said. But in his eyes, she saw a flicker of fear—not for himself, but for Rose. For her, too. Maybe for all of them. She found herself fearing for him in return. Something bad was happening, a growing storm blackening the horizon, but she couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

Thank you, she said to him before he left. He turned to look at her. For protecting her.

He just gave her a nod. I would’ve done it anyway. Then he left.

Laine had hoped Étienne was the one knocking on her door again this late at night, maybe with another update on Rose. Instead, she finds herself staring at a messenger—a tall, elegant woman wrapped in a thick green scarf, her third eye blinking in the center of her forehead.