Page 52 of The Fake Divination Offense
He climbs out into the night.
I wait a beat, then step out onto the street, but I hold over the roof of my car as he walks up to his building. I don’t know if Tem pulled in while we were…occupied, but Alexo walks quickly for the steps.
Before he ducks inside, he looks back at me. It’s too far for me to see his face, too far for him to do more than make out my silhouette. But we both hold for one, two, three seconds.
Then he’s through the door and gone.
I jog up the road until I can see his apartment’s window, and I wait until that curtain flutters with the door opening and shutting. Even when the fabric settles and I know he’s safely in his home, probably moving around in his room, getting ready for bed, I linger, watching.
Because it’s all I can do right now.
All I’llletmyself do right now.
Chapter Seven
They took Seb from me again.
I did something wrong. Something—I dropped a sword in sparring? Yeah, that’s it. I dropped a sword, and they kept Seb overnightfor extra drills, but he always comes back from those bruised to all hell.
They’ve been training us to depend on each other. An ouroboros partnership—we’re supposed to complete each other, be so wholly in sync that we’re one unit, one being. Not all their methods work, but my gods, this one has; I can’t function when Seb’s not around, and they know that. When I fuck up, theytake him from me, and he’s not here,he’s not here.
Help me, Urzoth. Please, please make me strong. I need to protect Seb. I need to be strong for him, so please, give me your strength. Or—or just stop this. You could, couldn’t you? You’re strong enough. You can save Seb. Help him, help me, please—
Someone else is gone this time, too.
Who else did they take?
It’s only Seb. But I have the distinct feeling that someone else is missing.
Seb’s gone.
He’s not here—
—because this is a dream. I’m asleep, in my bed in Vegas.
No, no, Philadelphia. I’m back in Philadelphia, and I’m asleep.
Sowake up.
My phone’s in my hand before I’m even all the way awake, and I’m delirious with sleep and residual panic so I’m only half conscious of the call ringing until he answers.
“If you’re calling for bail money because you got arrested stalking your little cheerleader, know I’m gonna takesoooooomany pictures of you in the holding cell.”
My eyes pop open. “Seb?”
The hindbrain part of me relaxes, muscles releasing so forcefully I press the heel of my palm to my forehead and sink deeper into my bed.
He’s okay. He’s okay.
Fuck, breathe.
“Yeah?” His voice hangs in the silence. “O? You all right?”
“I called you.” Gods, I’m catching up like molasses this morning.
“Uh, yeah. I assume youdon’tneed bail money if you’re this chill? What happened?”
It’s—Friday. The day after the game. I pull my phone down to check the time, thinking Seb’s gotta be at work—
