Page 102 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

He belonged to the council now.

34

The back of the van held little light, probably because there were no windows. Even the glass in the rear doors was tinted and allowed barely any light inside, and a partition behind the cab hid the driver from view.

Sitting on a bench that ran the length of the van, Bastian tried to track their movement, figure out which route they were taking out of Vernazza. It was a good distraction from the image of Whitby that kept flashing in his mind.

Whitby chained and scared.

Whitby not wanting him to leave.

He’d heard her yelling as he was bundled into the van, which meant the council had been true to their word. Whitby was free. Safe, he hoped.

Bastian smiled. That was all that mattered.

He heard Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now,” and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Presumably the council were taking him somewhere quiet to finish him off. He knew that the pain of the silver around his wrists would pale into nothingcompared to the slow, agonizing death the Obliterati had in store for him.

Bastian buried his nose in his shoulder. There was still a trace of De Luca’s scent in the fabric. The smell of sandalwood, with a hint of clean perspiration. Bastian closed his eyes, pretending De Luca’s arms were around him, hugging him tight.

The more he thought about the inspector, though, the more he ached, knowing he’d never see him again.

No De Luca and no Whitby. That was a death in itself.

“Always a pity, losing one of our own,” a male voice drawled.

“Such a pity,” added a female voice.

Bastian startled. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone in the back of the van. The silver must be affecting him more than he thought. He turned his head, seeing three figures floating in the gloom. Three sets of eyes sparked intermittently as they caught snatches of light.

The Obliterati were in the van with him.

“We understand of course,” Ling said, picking her long, blood-red nails.

“It’s so difficult to control the fever—” Jared added.

“—when it takes hold,” Emmeline concluded, her brow wrinkled in a show of sympathy.

Their presence felt choking. Even though he didn’t breathe, Bastian’s airway narrowed and his lungs shuddered, as if an invisible toxin had entered them.

“For what it’s worth,” Emmeline added.

“Your suffering shall not go unwitnessed,” Ling said. “We shall—”

“Be with you until the end,” Jared concluded, his stone-pale hands clasped before him.

“Have you ever had a single unique thought amongyourselves?” Bastian muttered, growing tired of their uncanny way of speaking.

Ling tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “On the contrary, we are completely individual.”

“We just prefer—” Jared added.

“To present a united front,” Emmeline said.

Bastian shivered, his mind consumed by the jagged slice of silver around his wrists. He had lost any sense of time. It felt like an eternity since the fight in the apartment kitchen but perhaps that was just because the cuffs biting his wrists were such agony. Time always stretched and contracted when you were in pain.

“You must know I am innocent,” he said.

Jared gave a light shrug. “It matters little.”