THIRTY-FIVE

The Living and the Dead

“We’re leaving?” Oliver asked with palpable relief after Mimi had outlined the plan. She had stormed into his room looking murderous, and he had been worried for his safety for a moment. Thankfully, all she’d done was kick the pillows that had fallen on the floor, and after that she’d simply sunk into the couch next to him, a deflated little red balloon with all the fight seeped out of her.

“I bribed one of the demons with a vial of my blood. God knows what he wants it for.” Mimi shuddered. “He said if we want to get out of here, all we need is to catch some train that will take us straight to Limbo.”

“What about Kingsley?” he asked.

“What about Kingsley?” There was that murderous look again.

Oliver turned off the television. The show he’d been watching—about an alien who was part of the family and played by a puppet—was just about the height of inanity, and he was glad to find a reason to stop watching. He approached Mimi gingerly. “He’s not coming back with us?”

“No,” Mimi said, and she kicked the coffee table. “Ouch!”

she yelped, holding her foot. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.”

Mimi went back to her room. She wanted to be alone. Her heart was broken, shattered to pieces, but she felt nothing.

Just numb. She had been hanging on to this love—this hope—that she would find happiness one day. That she would have a happy ending. But instead there was nothing for her here. It was clear that there never was. She had read it all wrong. Kingsley had never loved her. He didn’t feel the same way about her anymore, and possibly never had.

Her journey was over, and she had failed. She would return to the Coven, where hopefully she would be able to piece her life back together, and piece the vampires back together as well. She didn’t know what to do next. Look for her brother?

Find revenge? She felt too exhausted to think of revenge at the moment. She needed a good long cry, but she did not want to give Kingsley the satisfaction of hearing her sob. She hoped she’d hurt him when she’d hit him. His cheek had turned a deep scarlet, but the shocked look on his face was even better.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

“Go away,” Mimi growled. “Oliver, I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

The door opened anyway. “It’s not Oliver. It’s me.” Kingsley hovered at the doorway, looking tired and nervous. His left cheek, Mimi noticed, was slightly pink.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I came to apologize,” he said, slouching against the wall.

“It was rude of me to belittle your efforts. I didn’t mean to make fun.”

“Whatever.”

Kingsley looked at her kindly. “I’m truly sorry to disappoint you. I’m… quite flattered that you cared so much to come all this way.”

“So you didn’t miss me… not at all?” she said, daring to ask one of the questions she had wanted to ask since they were reunited. Had she misunderstood everything? The way he’d looked at her before he disappeared—and the fact that he had asked her to break her bond and steal away with him—was it all a dream? All that time she had grieved for him, mourned for him, dreamed of him, schemed for a way to get him back…

and it was all for nothing? He’d never felt the same for her?

How could she have been so stupid?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, patting her on the back as if she were a child.

Good god, if he’d meant to console her, he was going about it exactly the wrong way. He was making her feel like a silly schoolgirl who’d had a crush on her teacher. “Right.”

Mimi nodded. She just wanted him out of her room and out of her life. She never wanted to see him again. If there was one thing she hated more than Kingsley’s indifference, it was his pity. “I think you should go now.”

But Kingsley stubbornly refused to leave. “Listen, come take a ride with me. I want to show you something. It might explain better than I can.”

Mimi heaved a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“I promise I’ll stop bothering you if you do.”

“Fine.”

He drove them out of the city, beyond the borders of the seventh, to the endless swaths of nothing that surrounded Tartarus. The dark incalculable void where nothing grew and nothing lived, and there was only the dead and those that kept the dead. They drove into the vacant barren land, to the black irradiated earth, the devastated valleys where the Black Fire had raged from the beginning of time. In middle of the infinite darkness he stopped the car and got out, motioning for Mimi to follow him.

He knelt by the side of the road and asked her to do the same. She crouched down next to him.

“See that?” he asked, pointing to a small red flower that was sprouting from the ashy black desert. “Remember what it was like before? Nothing could grow here. But it’s different now. It’s changing. The underworld is changing, and I’m part of the reason why.”

It was just a weed, but Mimi did not want to take away Kingsley’s fierce pride in its existence.

“It’s going to take a long time, and maybe it will never be as beautiful as earth, but who knows.” He touched the petal of the flower with the tip of his finger. “There’s nothing for me up there, you know,” he said quietly. “It’s peaceful down here.

I belong here.”

She could read between the lines: this was the reason he would never return with her back to earth. To return to his former existence would only bring him pain. In mid-world, Kingsley martin was a pariah, neither angel or demon but a Silver Blood, a vampire who was shunned and distrusted by his own people.

Maybe he’d loved her once, or maybe he hadn’t, but it was all irrelevant now. Whatever love he had was gone. Perhaps it had never been real. Only his pride in this small growing flower—that was real.

Mimi finally saw what she had been denying from the moment she’d laid eyes on him again. Kingsley looked different because he was different. Down here, he was whole, he was himself. He was not plagued by the screams of the thousands in his soul. While he was Croatan, he was also free.

Now she understood why Helda had said, If you can get him to leave with you, you can have him.

Kingsley would never leave the underworld. He had everything here: adventures, new experiences; as the Angel Araquiel he would bring life back to this dead land. She did not want to take that away from him. If she loved him the way she said she did, she wanted him whole. maybe this was what love meant after all: sacrifice and selflessness. It did not mean hearts and flowers and a happy ending, but the knowledge that another’s well-being is more important than one’s own. It was so awful to grow up and realize you couldn’t have everything you wanted, Mimi thought.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she said finally, as they made their way back to the car.

“No one’s happy here, you know that. But I am content, and maybe that’s enough for me.”

They drove back to Tartarus in silence. Mimi was afraid of saying something she would regret, and Kingsley was lost in thought. When they arrived back at the palace, the trolls seemed to sense their mood and kept out of their way. There was nary a servant in sight, when usually they were constantly hovering, offering cakes or champagne or hookers and hot tubs.

Kingsley walked Mimi to her room. “So I understand this is good-bye, then?”

“Yeah, well.”

He lingered at the doorway. “It was good of you to come.

It was nice seeing you again, Force. Come see me again sometime if you’re ever in the neighborhood.”

Smart aleck. He knew they would never see each other again. She had come to Hell chasing a dream, and now it was time to wake up. Her Coven needed her; she had wasted enough time. Mimi knew this was good-bye, but she did not know how to say it—did not know if she had it in her not to break down if it went on too long. So she just gave him a little shrug and began to turn away. Then she remembered. “Oh, I might as well return this.” She reached into her pocket and brought out a small rabbit’s foot key chain. She had found it among his possessions and had held on to it, remembering the way he used to twirl it around; the way he would toss it in the air and catch it.

“I lost this in New York,” he said. It had been special to him: it had brought him luck again and again, he’d told her once. He’d held a certain perverse affection for the ugly thing.

“I know. I found it.”

“You kept this? All this time?”

“It reminded me of you.” She shrugged. She’d kept it thinking it might be a sign that she would see him again.

He was still looking at it with wonderment, and all Mimi wanted to do was disappear into her room as quickly as possible. This whole ordeal had been agonizing.

“Wait,” he said hoarsely, and reached for her hand.

She laced her fingers through his and gave it a good shake to let him know there were no hard feelings. They were friends. That’s all she ever seemed to have. Friends. She had enough of those.

His hand was still gripping hers. She tried to pull away, but he just tightened his hold on her, and it was then that she felt the first flower of hope bloom in her heart. But she did not want to go down that road again. That road led to nowhere.

And still Kingsley did not let go.

It was as if they were rooted to that spot, frozen in time.

Finally, Mimi dared to look up.

When she did, she saw that there were tears running down his beautiful face. And when their eyes met, it was as if his whole spirit crumbled; as if seeing the worn rabbit’s foot had reminded him of something—their time together in New York, perhaps—or maybe it had finally convinced him that she had come down to Hell for him after all. But whatever it was, the arrogant façade broke, and he surrendered to the love that he had been feeling all this time; the love that he had been hiding behind an arrogant, indifferent veneer.

But instead of feeling triumphant that Kingsley had told her the truth at last, and was showing her the true nature of his heart now that they were saying good-bye forever—instead of feeling justified and victorious, Mimi just felt tenderness for him, and protective.

“Of course I missed you,” he whispered. “How could I forget…”

“Kingsley,” she said, but he had already pulled her toward him, and this time she did not push him away.