Chapter 39

I felt like the tin man, off to see the wizard. Except I already had a heart. It was in my purse. The saddest thing about the whole situation? I had my heart in a Ziploc bag and that wasn’t the worst part of my day.

I’ll find him. But despite the fact I didn’t currently have a heart, I ached as if I did.

It was early afternoon, so I wasn’t sure the club where Death and I had found the raver would be open yet, but I lucked out. I had to pay the cover this time to get inside—no convenient teleporting for me—but it was open. The club was quieter this early in the day, so it wasn’t hard to find the raver in the thin crowd. Or for her to spot me.

“Oh, I’m clearly going to have to find a new place to party,” she said, shaking her head and making her dreads quiver.

“I’m pretty sure this is the only techno club in the city.”

“So how about we say it’s off limits to you,” she said, her long fingernails making dull thud sounds as she tapped her bright PVC pants. Then she looked at me, really looked at me. “You don’t look so hot, chick. What did you get into now?” She paused. “And why are you alone?”

“I got my heart ripped out.”

“And he left you with his essence in you. Why—” She stopped. “Fuck, you’re being literal.”

“I’m guessing the mender will need it to fix me?” I held up the bag with the aforementioned organ.

The raver glanced at the plastic bag, her eyes rounding. “You are one weird chick. Well, come on, then.”

A reassuring thump knocked in my chest as my flesh stopped rippling. The mender dropped his hand.

“You get into even worse trouble than I’d been warned,” he said as my heart pounded out another beat and fell into a regular rhythm.

“I assure you, this was a first for me.”

“Good to know. I have collectors who’ve been with me for decades and haven’t received as much mending as you have in two days.” He made a motion as if dusting off his hands. “I expect you not to make this a habit.”

That wasn’t going to be a problem. I doubt I’ll be returning.

“Really, and why is that?”

Crap, I forgot he was telepathic. Well, now or never. “The last time I was here you gave me a message for”—I hesitated before referring to Death the way he and the raver did—“him.”

The mender nodded again, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, he’s not in a position to make a choice. I’m going to be forced to return his essence to save him.”

“That is good. I value him as a collector. He has compassion for his souls but aside from recent transgressions, still does his job efficiently. That is not always the case.”

I shook my head. “That’s not where I’m going with this. The options you gave him, I need your word they are negated since he cannot make a choice.”

“Child, he already made his decision. He could have exchanged your life essences the moment he got my message. By not doing so, he made the choice that left him vulnerable to his current predicament.”

I shook my head again, and the look the mender gave me was one an elder might give a young child: sympathetic, but unwavering in resolve.

“No, I refuse to accept that to save his life I condemn his soul. I want another option.”

“He knew the dangers when he made his choice.”

My fists clenched at my sides. The mender’s glance flickered to them, and I forced my fingers straight. “No. I can’t accept that.”

“Which is also a choice.”

He said it so calmly, so assured in his position—I’d never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life. I was pretty sure this guy could give my father a run for his money.

“I can’t make the decision to trap his soul for all eternity.”

“Then you decide to let him die, and when he does, you likely will as well.”

“Are you trying to frighten me?” Even as I asked I knew he was only stating the facts as he saw them. “Fine. You said you value him as a collector. Wouldn’t you rather have him back than dead?”

His eyes softened as his face turned to that of an elder’s again, his features full of sympathy. “Child, in all likelihood, you will not survive the trial ahead of you and he will choose to follow you before I have an opportunity to stop him. It is why they dislike you, you know. It isn’t due to our laws—or because of the secrets he’s revealed to you—that they resent you. No, don’t think to deny it. I know what he has done and said.” He took my hand and patted it gently. “They dislike you because they fear losing him when your time comes, as others who have loved mortals have done before. There used to be four in their little group, you know.”

I guessed by “they” he meant the gray man and the raver. I glanced over my shoulder at the latter, who stood by herself on the other side of the garden, scowling at me.

I shook my head. We were getting sidetracked.

“You said likelihood, which means even if you see the possibilities, you don’t know the definite outcome. I may not die. Or if I do, he may not follow.”

“You seem very calm about the possibility of your own death. That is rare in a mortal.”

What was I supposed to say to that? It wasn’t like I wanted to die. The idea scared the hell out of me. But I’d learned a long time ago that everything dies.

The mender nodded as if I’d said the thought aloud. Then we both stood there in silence for a moment, until he asked, “What is it you want from me? In the event either or both of you survive, I cannot allow you to continue to switch life essences.”

“I understand that. All I’m asking for is your oath that when he’s ready to move on, you free his soul.”

“All you want is my oath?” The way he said it made it clear I’d insulted him.

“I meant no offense.”

He laughed, catching me off guard. “You became very fae rather quickly.”

Because I didn’t apologize?

“There is that. And, yes, eventually you’ll remember I’m telepathic but it won’t help you not to think.” He smiled, any insult either forgiven or forgotten. “But you also see the world differently now, don’t you? As a fae your word is your oath, but a human’s words are as fickle as a breeze without a sworn oath. You have no idea what I am or the value of my words.”

I didn’t deny it because he was right. I wanted a guarantee that I wasn’t making a choice between Death’s life and his soul.

“And if you had to, which would you choose?”

I didn’t have to think about it. I already knew. “I’ll fight to save his life, but in the end I’ll choose to save his soul.”

“Even though you know your own death is inevitable with that path, but you might survive the other? That both of you might survive?”

I’d answered that question already. There was nothing more I could say. I wanted to think I wouldn’t damn Death’s soul to save myself, but nothing I said now would prove that I’d sacrifice myself.

Even if there is a chance we could still be together if I returned his essence?

I wrapped my arms across my chest, hugging myself. It was a deceitful thought, and a selfish one. I was going to lose Death, one way or another. If I convinced the mender to release him from his ultimatum, then once I returned Death’s essence, he would be a soul collector again—our relationship forbidden. And if the mender didn’t agree…then I’d fight the rider, but I wouldn’t condemn Death to eternity as a soul collector.

The mender watched me for several moments before nodding. “You may deny the names of your emotions, but nothing is wrong with that heart I put back in your chest. I will offer my oath on the condition that you promise me a boon. He has broken many of our covenants. Do you feel the weight of debt you will incur if I grant your request that I reverse my decision?”

The possibility of debt opened between us. The enormity of it crushed the air out of my lungs, threatening to smother my newly repaired heart—and the debt hadn’t even solidified yet. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. What could I possibly do for a being as powerful as the mender to pay off such a level of debt?

He took my hand, patting kindly. “Actions have consequences, and you’ve asked to take the cost of his consequences on yourself.”

And by actions, the mender meant Death saving my life. If he’d been willing to pay such a price for me, I could do the same for him.

I nodded, rolling my shoulders back as I accepted the weight of that debt. “I promise a boon in exchange for the freedom of his soul.”

“My oath then. If you both survive, he will be stripped of his ability to switch life essence but only until the time he is ready for his own soul to move on.”

I measured his words. “And if only one of us survives?”

“Then one way or another, it will no longer be an issue, will it?”

No, I guess not.

I was still adjusting to the debt weighing down on me when he lifted a hand and the raver joined us.

“Good luck, child. You’ll need it,” he said. Then the appearance of an elder was gone, and with a younger, much less comforting face, he said, “I’ll see you again.”