“You can’t, and even if you did, it is physically and emotionally draining. He’d be of no use in the fight.”
The Valkyrie’s expression turns panicked. She reaches for his hand and touches the silver ring. “But we need him…it has to be all six of us to make this work. That’s what Morgan told me. That’s why she gave me these rings!”
“I’m sorry,” Christensen says. “But Miya is of no use to you, not now.”
She ignores him, bending over the warrior and kissing him on the lips. The whole room waits to see if her touch can pull him from his sleep, like some kind of fairytale, but the Samurai doesn’t move. He’s lost deep in his mind, so far that even the touch of his mate can’t draw him out.
Tears prick at her eyes when she looks up and Armin moves to comfort her. He looks at the mirror and asks, “What do we do now? We can’t leave him unprotected.”
“He’s one of the gods' chosen. They’ll get him to safety.”
“Then what about the rest of us? If we’re one short, how do we win this thing?”
The Professor’s eyebrows raise. “Have you ever heard, ‘When God closes a door, he opens a window?’”
“From the Bible, Romans, 8:23,” Rupert says.
Christensen nods. “There’s always a window.”
His reflection shimmers and Hildi gasps, drawing our attention to her. Miya, who was in her arms one moment, fades the same way the professor had, vanishing into thin air.
She crumbles against Armin, and he holds her tight, while Rupert’s expression is grim. When I turn, I see that Elizabeth is watching me quietly, as though I’m the interesting part of this scene.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Nothing,” she replies, her mouth twisted knowingly, “just searching for the window.”
23
Hildi
If I’d questioned the intensity of the bond, the legitimacy, that ends the minute Miya’s body is taken from this realm.
It felt like I’ve been cleaved in two, part of my body—my soul—torn off. The damage instantly feels irreparable. Like a lost limb, or worse, an organ.
A warm hand settles on my shoulder, the weight heavy, but it feels muffled and far away.
“Hil,” Armin says, his voice grave. “It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay. The Guardians, they’ll…”
I pull away and exhale. “I just need a minute, okay. Give me a fucking minute.”
He lifts his hands in surrender. Elizabeth and Luke hang on the edges of the room, obviously unsure of how to proceed with my nervous breakdown.
“How about we rest for the night, then regroup in the morning,” Rupert suggests. “Luke, I’d like to discuss strategy about what’s coming next.”
The Nephilim nods and the two of them move to a small table in the corner.
“I can make some food,” Elizabeth offers helpfully. There’s a small kitchen against one wall. Canned goods line the shelves. Christensen said it was a safehouse. It’s clearly stocked for people to be here for a while. Armin watches me closely and it feels like the walls of the room are closing in, once again, making it hard to breathe. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll go—”
“Alone,” I say to Armin, who was ready to follow me. My heartbeats erratically but I feign control. “I need a minute to process, Armin. It’s nothing personal. Just…give me some space.”
He nods, unhappy about it, but he stands back. I cross the small room and enter the bedroom and close the door behind me. There’s a lock and I secure it. In the other room I hear Luke and Rupert speaking quietly and then pots and pans in the small kitchen. A shadow moves under the door, and I have no doubt it’s Armin, lingering just outside, waiting to come in the instant I need him.
But I don’t need him.
If I have to do this without Miya, then I may need to do this without Armin and Rupert, too. Luke made it clear that every stop for one of the Legion wears me down. That it’s intended to not just exhaust me—but break me. Binding myself to the others was foolish—it was like chaining myself to a sinking ship.