章 14: Chapter 14: You're Not One Of Us

My retreat wasn't to be just yet. Nero stood staring at me, my brother's kindness penetrating my aura at last. I jerked to a halt with barely a step of progress made. Had he not seen what I'd seen? Did he know the mist now seemed able to emerge and act, that I was glad of such a thing? But no, not from his expression. So, what I'd just lived, the door that felt so real, was all in my mind.

I was going mad, apparently.

Nero came to me, one hand taking mine, face showing concern a moment before his normally stoic calm returned. He led me in silence to one of the sofas and sat me down beside him, hand still holding mine. His seemed reluctant, as if he would pull free at any moment, but he held on anyway, his emotions swirling between compassion and disappointment.

"Are you all right?" His deep voice helped calm me, the familiar cadence Dad's timbre in many ways, and that of the brother who had always seemed to care despite himself.

I nodded, my free hand shaking while it rose to push back hair from my face, my curls falling loose over one shoulder. Impossible hair. The fingers in his felt warm and I hoped he wouldn't let me go, though I wouldn't fight him if he decided to release me.

Nero sighed, looked down at the carpet, shoulders rounded forward, lips tight. His aura pulsed with empathy of his own and with need. "Eve." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, audibly before looking at me with those eyes, our father's eyes. "It's never been easy for you." His voice warbled slightly and I remembered the brother who had loved me when I was small, who carried me on his hip and smiled at me, who showed me Undertown and was my friend before the tasks began and my failures hurt him, too. "I'm sorry for that. You must know..."

I nodded again, unable to speak, wishing I could change things, make him understand how much I felt his agony. I knew now, had never known until this moment, he blamed himself in a way for my lacking. How hadn't I seen-felt-that this brother who cared for me drew away not out of judgment of me but out of his own regret he wasn't able to help me?

If he'd been trying to break my heart he wouldn't have succeeded better.

Nero's fingers twitched around mine. "I don't know what to do."

"Same here." I was able to speak, a miracle.

When he met my eyes, his were full of pain. "I know," he said. "That's the hardest part, really. I understand how hard you try. And it's so difficult to see you fail." He shivered a little, his knee bumping mine, this intimate moment giving me more solace than he would ever know. "I used to think if you could just do things differently, if you would just pay attention or focus better. But it's not about that, Eve. You're not one of us. Are you?"

I couldn't help the tears that tracked down my cheeks, tickling my skin as they fell. "I guess not."

Nero nodded, sighed, his aura softening. Like accepting I wasn't an angel of Death made him feel better. "Then we figure out who you are," he said. And squeezed my hand.

I hugged him on impulse, sobbing softly against his shoulder while my brother awkwardly patted my back a moment. When he finally embraced me, relenting in the face of my grief, I cried harder, feeling the last bits of his resistance to the girl he adored when I was small fade away and vanish.

I pulled back and wiped at my cheeks, laughing and crying in a soft sound of apology. "Thank you for that," I said, voice cracking.

Nero's aura had altered completely, his hurt gone. He'd relieved himself of blame, just like that. To have such an ability...

My brother stood, helped me to my feet and smiled at me, though grim and still the steadfast angel of Death I'd come to know as a teenager. "I'll talk to Dad again," he said. "Your mother will have to listen."

He didn't say more, turned and headed for Death's doorway, his tall, lean body full of confidence. I watched Nero go, hugging myself instead, imagining my brother's arms around me, supporting me again. And allowing hope this wasn't some passing moment of promise that I'd manage to crush with more failure.

I couldn't go back to Life, not yet. I needed time, space to process. Not just the conversation with Nero. His departure and loss of aura pressure returned the memory of the mist door and my struggle with reality. My feet moved before I could think and, in moments, I found myself once again in the hospital. The place I'd so recently denied myself. Outside a door I knew already. Memory tingling, I felt in my pocket, realizing I still possessed the gift from Tulip. Despite the Mom created costume change, I learned early in the six month switch off I at least got to keep personal items when these alterations in clothing happened to me. Thumb drive safely tucked away, my fingers traced over the bracelet my friend and her parents gave me and I thought of my centaur family. But they understood too much, had too much knowledge. I couldn't bear their empathy just now.

Needing a friend who knew nothing of who I was and not caring he was mortal, I pulled myself together and peeked into Adam's open door.

I had second thoughts as soon as I looked inside and found Adam sleeping. Time was so flexible when Life and Death were concerned. I hesitated, my fingers exploring the edges of the thumb drive while I talked myself out of the terrible idea I had to just barge in and make a friend of a mortal.

Why not, though? I'd screwed up the rest of my life, no matter Nero's sudden understanding. Why not this part, too?

Adam didn't give me a choice, in the end. His head turned on his pillow while I hovered and fretted over my own indecision. His instant smile and wakeful state told me he'd been lying there, likely in his own head as much as I was in mine. His closest hand lifted and gestured for me to come in.

It was nice to sink into the chair next to him, to smile at him as he half turned over, not trying to sit up. I would have loved to squeeze his fingers in support but there was no way I was touching him. Too risky as delightful as that contact might have been. A thrilling moment of mortal warmth after a terrible, hurtful day.

"Hi, Eve," he said. "Where's my apple?"

I choked a laugh, shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. "I forgot."

"Too busy to remember little old me, huh?" He winked, finally did struggle to sit up. I held still, wishing I could help him, staring at his knees instead as they rose under the sheet. It took him an awkward thirty seconds or so to position himself, but when he spoke again, he sounded happy. "Thanks for the help." I looked up, to apologize, no idea how I was going to explain to him I couldn't touch him when I realized he was teasing me. "Honestly," he said. "Thanks. Everyone else treats me like I can't do anything for myself. I appreciate you holding off on the irritating dive for assistance."

I shrugged, grinned weakly. "You're welcome."

He tilted his head, cheeks slightly more sunken than I remembered. It was just yesterday we met, wasn't it? "You look different."

The dress. I ran my hands over my skirt and made an unhappy face. "My mother has certain ideas about what her daughters should look like." I flushed, embarrassed suddenly. The revealing bodice wasn't exactly hospital wear. But Adam didn't seem concerned.

"I like it." He ran a shaking hand over his short hair before clearing his throat. This time I did rush to help, pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher by his bed. I was careful to extend the small, plastic table toward him, rolling it on its wobbly wheels with the cup bouncing on its surface until he could reach it. Adam saluted me with it and sipped a little before setting it aside. "How's your grandfather?"

I stared in blank confusion before remembering the conversation we'd had the day before. "Alive," I said, not meaning to sound so mournful.

Adam chuckled. "You have the worst habit of making good things sound awful."

"Sorry." I sank back, clutching the thin material of my dress in both hands, knowing I had to look as hurt as I felt. "It's just been another long day."

"So, tell me." He adjusted himself a little so he was partially turned toward me then waited, expectant. When I didn't say anything-what could I say?-he gestured for me to hurry up. "Eve," he said, "go ahead. Unload. I won't judge and it's not like I'm going to tell anybody." He motioned around himself. "Unless you have a magic pill to get me out of this place. In which case, I'll owe you so much your secrets will always be safe with me."

I almost didn't, was so close to holding my tongue, changing the subject. But I needed to talk to him and, from the hunger in his emotions, the desire for distraction palpable in his aura, I knew he needed it, too.

I dumped as much as I could manage without actually telling him who I was. About Mom, about Dad, our broken family and being co-parented and having two homes. The fact my siblings on both sides hated me and that I was being pushed into being someone I wasn't because my parents had been too stubborn to admit I didn't fit their mold.

It was frustrating at times to keep things so vague but the further into the story I dove, the more Adam nodded and commiserated.

"I hear you," he groaned at one point. "The only reason Mom and Dad are even talking right now is because I'm sick. And my little brother Danny blames me for them not paying any attention to him. Poor kid."

It felt so good to share. "Do you see him much?"

Adam shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. "I asked them to keep him away. Just in case."

In case he died.

That hit me hard, the truth of what he faced. Here I was dumping all over him when he had troubles of his own. Mortals had so little to look forward to. Having their lives cut short by illness had to be devastating.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm whining over nothing and you're..."

Adam looked away. "Eve? It helps. Honest." When he turned to look at me again, his eyes glistened with moisture. Then he smirked at me and jabbed a finger in my direction. "Tell me something," he said. "Why do you let them bully you like that?"

I gaped, stuttered, stopped. "I don't have a choice." He didn't understand. Too mortal.

But Adam wasn't about to let it go. "Time to stand up for yourself, don't you think?" He arched an eyebrow at me. "Especially to your mother. And that nasty ass sister of yours." I giggled guiltily at the description of Daphne. "Saying no doesn't mean you don't love them. It just means you have a life and they'd damned well better get to a place they accept you're going to live it." He nodded once, official and decisive. "Take it from me, kid," he said. "Life's too short not to take charge."

If only he knew how ironic that statement was.

Rather than try to explain further, knowing it would get me nowhere, I smiled back and reached into my pocket. "A friend of mine designs games." He didn't say anything about the obvious change of subject, shaking his head before looking curious. "She was wondering if you'd be willing to test one. I told her you liked to play." I blushed then, realizing he now knew I was talking about him with Tulip. Then wondered why I cared.

He took the jump drive from me with a grin. "I'd love to," he said. I didn't stop him when he reached for his laptop and opened the lid, plugging in the drive and booting up the game.

Tulip was brilliant, no question, and her games beyond me. Adam's curiosity turned to delight and then excessive enthusiasm as he fell into the stunning visuals and in depth storyline. I left him shortly thereafter, knowing Tulip would be delighted by his grunting acknowledgment of my departure, so caught up in the gameplay he barely knew I was gone.

At least someone would get some good news out of today. I was two steps from the utility closet and the Crosspath when the inevitable hit.

Eve.

Mom. Any joy I'd gathered around me like a shield vanished at the sound of her voice. I didn't wait for her to order me home, volunteering my own return. I'm on my way.

***

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