Chapter 34
Herald’s hair had grown out. He looked a little disheveled, his stubble left untrimmed, his eyes deep and darker. It could have been just the separation, and I’ll forever feel like a bastard saying this, but it made him look more attractive to me than ever.
The kiss took way longer than I expected, and I had no complaints, really. It was both hello and goodbye, both a greeting and the exploration of something that we’d both believed would be nothing more than a distant memory after my second death. It couldn’t have lasted minutes, but it felt that way, and it was the awkward, strange laughter burbling from each of our throats that finally caused us to break apart. It was the kind of laughter that came from joy, and from relief. I thought I’d never see you again, it said. I hate you, I love you.
“It’s been six months,” Herald said.
“Six months,” I breathed, rubbing my hands through my hair. I looked around Herald’s apartment, always such a poignant reflection of who he was as a person. It smelled the same, the faint citrus scent of clean that permeated the place from a little oil diffuser lurking in one of the corners. But it was just a bit messier, everything just a bit more rumpled, in more disarray. There were actually dishes in the sink, for once. My heart pinched.
“I thought you’d be gone longer,” Herald said, sitting back, adjusting his glasses, his pupils dilating, as if he was trying to get a good look at me. And he didn’t have to voice his surprise. I knew what he was thinking: that I looked exactly the same as the night he saw me.
“The Apotheosis,” I said, my mind racing for the right details to help explain what happened. “It’s what you saw. The five swords split me into pieces. There are shadows of me left in the Dark Room, and they’re taking up the slack for now. That was supposed to be my burden, to keep guard over the seals against the Eldest and keep them from ever coming back. Hecate said so. But the shades – it’s like they’re helping.”
Herald chewed on his lip, his eyes darting across the carpet as he mulled it over. “Then she knew all along that you weren’t going to be gone forever. She knew that the shadows were going to commute your sentence. She knew.”
I shook my head, ruffling my hair. “I always assume that she doesn’t care about humanity and the little things that matter to us. But she’s always a step ahead, somehow. I wonder what else she hasn’t told me.”
Herald stepped into the summoning circle, sitting beside me, taking my hand. “Listen. She’s never steered you wrong before. She’s a total weirdo, borderline crazy, but believe it or not – and I can’t believe I’m saying this myself – she has a track record for always wanting what’s best for you.”
“Like a mom.”
“Yeah. Little bit.”
“That’s a lot to unpack.”
He chuckled. “Understatement of the century.”
I waved around the apartment. “So is this. I guess you did kind of miss me, then.”
Herald frowned, and maybe he flinched a little, and I instantly felt like an asshole. “That’s a low blow and you know it.”
“Sorry,” I said, meaning it as I bowed my head. “Really sorry.”
He sighed. “I tried for months, you know. I set things up, offered all of your favorite food, ended up eating it when you didn’t appear. I have tons of leftovers to go through every week.” He formed his hand into a fist and pounded lightly on his chest. “And probably an impending heart attack, too. Your diet was terrible.”
I shrugged. “I was a hedonist. Huh. Still am, I guess.” The smell of the burger and fries became so overpowering then, and I tore through the wrapper, shoving my face into the Happy Cow burger, moaning gratefully at my long overdue taste of charred beef and melted cheese. So that hadn’t changed about me, at least. “So you rotated through all of my favorite snacks, huh? That’s a long list. I hope this keeps working and you get to feed me fast food every night.”
Herald pulled his knees up to his chest, scratching at his collarbone as he half-smiled distantly. “Yeah. Every night.”
I swallowed my mouthful of burger, stared at him for a quick second, then looked around the room. “Every night,” I echoed. “That’s how long you’ve been trying?”
The tears came suddenly. Herald had never been so openly emotional in our entire time together, but now the floodgates were open. He rubbed one hand against his eyes, nudging his glasses away with the other, sniffling.
“I really missed you, you fucking idiot. I really thought I’d never see you again.”
I dropped my cheeseburger right then and there – something you’d never to get me to do under any circumstance – and pulled Herald into my arms. He shuddered there for some moments, and I held him tight for as long as he needed me to. Every night, he said. Every night. I bit my lip. I thought it’d been hard going for me in the Dark Room, sinking into its mire of solitude and shadow, but I’d never considered that he’d have suffered this badly. I wondered how the others had dealt with my second death, if I’d caused them as much pain. I wondered about my father.
“Listen,” I said, squeezing him tight. “I don’t know how long this connection will hold, how long I can stay away from the Dark Room. It’s like – well, it’s fully my domicile now, and I have to go back eventually.” It was my womb, the source of my power, and, I thought with some bitterness, my home. “I’m okay with you crying all night, but we should make the most of the time we have.”
He wiped at his face again, nodding. “Y-you’re right. I’m not sure when it’ll kick in again, anyway. I can’t believe this night worked. I don’t know what I did any differently.”
I shrugged. “I guess I’ve been a demigod long enough to qualify for a communion or something. It’s like I’ve marinated. Or spent enough time in the oven.”
Herald shook his head, laughing bitterly. “What the hell kind of a long distance relationship is this, anyway? Most people can still video chat. I have to summon my boyfriend with a frigging blood ritual.”
I chuckled myself. How the fuck had we gotten here? But that was when the idea came to me. I knew that I’d been stripped of basically every biological need, yet my hunger was easily triggered minutes into reentering reality. I had to know.
“We really should make our time count,” I breathed, my throat dry.