When the sound of his manic laughter turned to choked gurgling and there were no more bullets fired, Dimitri finally let me up. With his weight no longer crushing me, I felt almost off balance. He held out his hand, pulling me to my feet and I scanned him quickly, looking for wounds before turning to take stock of who was still standing, deliberately avoiding Sergei’s bullet ridden body on the floor. Dimitri’s gaze took me in, scanning me in return.
Everyone seemed fine - even Mikhail appeared unscathed, although he looked even paler than before - if that was even possible. But the weight of dread blanketed me. Dimitri felt it too, but said nothing - not in front of his men. He barked orders for cleanup whilst Ravi forced a plan in motion to reclaim their product from the streets that Sergei had been pushing.
Once Dimitri was satisfied that his orders were being followed and that his men were truly okay, he led me outside towards the car, never letting go of my hand once. I squeezed his hand, knowing that things had changed between us - had been changing for a while, and resigned myself to the fact that we needed to sit down and figure this out - there was no point in ignoring it.
Leaning against the car was Arlo, and at first glance, he seemed okay - normal even. But it was far from normal. Arlo stood, bracing himself against the Cadillac, clutching his chest, wheezing in pain. I bolted towards the car, my hands outstretched towards Arlo before Dimitri even registered that there was a problem. The difference was that I had been expecting something like this.
“Arlo!” I gasped, slightly out of breath as I watched his body curl in on itself. “Arlo, what’s going on?” I demanded.
His pain-filled eyes found mine as he shook his head.
“Don’t leave him alone,” he rasped, a millisecond before Dimitri was there, running his hands over Arlo’s chest, looking for a wound.
“Tell me where it hurts,” Dimitri commanded, going into leader-mode.
My heart broke as he fought for that sliver of hope, but I knew there wasn’t hope to be found - and so did Arlo. I met Arlo’s gaze and nodded my understanding. He would not make it. This was the cost - an eye for an eye. It didn’t matter that it was Sergei that had attacked, we had killed him, we had crossed the boundary, and so this was the price.
Arlo started sliding down the car as his body started convulsing, his eyes shuttering with each movement. Dimitri held him up, screaming for Ravi to call a fucking ambulance. I stood back, knowing that I couldn’t help - knowing that it was pointless, but not wanting to take away his act of trying. This final moment between grandfather and grandson. A new era indeed.
“No!” Dimitri screamed into the night air, “You don’t fucking die on me! You don’t get to tap out - isn’t that what you said?” he demanded, shaking Arlo’s seizing body.
“You don’t get to die!” He growled angrily, and then suddenly, Dimitri was laying Arlo on the ground, his hand hovering above the old man’s heart and I watched, motionless, as he attempted to do CPR. The last of Arlo’s breath wheezed out of his body as he twitched once, twice, his body spasming as he took his last breath..
“No!” Dimitri’s strangled sob carried through the air as he clutched Arlo’s body to his, cradling him as if he were a child. I didn’t like Arlo, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he had stepped up, acting as Dimitri’s sole guardian after his parents had passed away. I didn’t have to understand the upbringing Arlo bestowed upon Dimitri, I didn’t even have to like it, but I did have to stand here and allow Dimitri a minute to absorb his own damn agony.
In answer to Dimitri’s anguish, I heard Lauren’s tinkling laughter and shivered. This was far from over.
Dimitri followed every single death practice of the old country that Arlo loved so much. And so, we laid out Arlo’s body in the house for three days, positioning his body towards the altar that we had erected for him. I did clearance ceremonies to help his crossing over. But mostly, Dimitri and I found comfort in each other - the need to be reminded that we had survived was somehow too pressing, with the result being we were entangled with each other constantly because I would offer him whatever small comfort I could. I rode him when he was too overcome with emotion, and when anger darkened his ability to think, I allowed him to pummel that anger into me, thrust after delicious thrust. Grief was a strange thing - there was no apt timeline or precise way to mourn. It gripped you in its clutches, and if you were lucky, it would release you - even if only offering a short reprieve.
Arlo’s death had struck me differently somehow, and it was not lost on me that I promised a man upon his death bed that I would remain with his grandson. Because that was what I had promised him, right?
There was Magick in those final promises - an asking and an answering of sorts. A promise - one that could not so easily be broken, at least not without repercussions. I didn’t like Arlo in life - in fact, I had taken such a dislike to him that I hadn't bothered to get to know him. We all had regrets I supposed, but I couldn’t bring myself to truly regret that decision - perhaps for Dimitri’s sake, yes, but certainly not for my own.
But in truth, I had already decided to stay with Dimitri before everything happened at the warehouse, so it seemed like a moot point, really.
Dimitri and I had been dancing around whatever this was between us, but I knew that he was reluctant to let me go, just as much as I was for my time to come to an end here. I didn’t know how we were going to navigate that, but I knew that I was willing to try.
The sheets were cool against my body as I lay in bed, basking in the morning sunshine that filtered through my room. Dimitri pushed the door open with his shoulder as he carried a tray filled with coffee and beignets.
We sat in quiet, comfortable silence, drinking our coffee, until Dimitri finally broke the silence, clearing his throat, he asked, “So, everyone in your Club is named after the major arcana?”
“Um…” I mumbled unintelligently, unsure of where he was going with this, “yeah, I guess.”
It was the first time he had asked me about anything to do with my Magick since his grandfather had been taken from him - in fact, I still wasn’t sure he understood the mechanics of how it happened. But then, who really understood the mechanics of death anyway.
“So, what’s your card or Club name then?”
I grinned at him, the ache in my chest easing slightly at his want to know - this was a conversation that I was surprisingly comfortable having, “The Empress,” I answered, sitting up slightly higher, my hair unbound.
Flashing his dimples, he smiled at me, “That’s higher than a Queen.”
I shook my head quizzically, but before I could follow that train of thought, Dimitri pushed a beignet in my mouth.
We had a lot to figure out. I still owed Solomon my debt, Lauren was still set out to destroy the Club, Dimitri needed to restructure his organisation, and I needed to deal with my parents. But for now, I had a few more days before the real world crept in on us, and I had a feeling that Dimitri had a lot more educating to do.