Page 21 of Last Rites

Kit’s face contorted, and a shudder of something like disgust shook his body. “That’s the most absurd thing. You can’t know that.”

“I know my half-brother,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.

Kit kept hold of the door and leaned so we could talk around Rosie, who was uncomfortably caught in the middle. Emotions played across his face, muddling together into something ugly and frightened.

“And if you’re wrong, then I have to watch it.” He used his free hand to point at his chest for emphasis. “I have to live with it. It was bad enough watching when I was a child, when the victims were strangers to me. If I have to bear witness again, and it’s you…”

He blinked, long lashes closing over those dark eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was distant.

“I won’t survive it. You ask too much.”

He swayed on his feet with what must have been exhaustion. Between our long night at home and the morning’s gruesome display, we were deprived of both rest and peace.

I would have gone to him, then, but with Rosie still blocking the way, I could hold nothing but his gaze. “It’s a decision we should make together,” I said quietly.

Another blink, then his eyes cut away, toward the outside and the brightness and somewhere other than here. “Not today,” he murmured. “Maybe when I can’t so easily imagine you twitching in a pool of your own blood.”

My stomach twisted, and so did Rosie’s face before she cleared her throat.

“I’m going home.” She threw her arms around my neck for a brief hug. “I’ll see you in the market, Penny.”

She didn’t offer the same farewell to Kit, doubtless remembering how he’d shrugged her off earlier. She did look back, though, and squinted her concern.

I wasn’t sure Kit noticed before he closed the door.

After throwing the lock, Kit spun toward the kitchen. I stayed by the rack, no longer mired but not prepared to follow. Not prepared to face him. Not prepared to discuss this any further until I had more to offer than scarce reassurances and possibly misplaced faith in my half-brother.

He’d always said I was a fool.

It took courage to move. And concern for Kit. He’d stopped at the kitchen sink, bent forward with his arms braced on the countertop while he gazed out the back window.

I’d meant to clear the ground out there. Plant a garden. As it was, all that remained were the dead dregs of winter and a smattering of spring green.

The kettle was in the basin when I padded up behind him, clearly waiting to be filled. I would have pumped the water for him, but I didn’t get close enough before Kit spoke.

“Work at the Ossuary begins tomorrow. I’m expected to be there. Wearing those ridiculous clothes.” He tossed his head toward the living area and the rack where I’d hung the ceremonial garb.

I continued my approach until I stood beside him. Reaching over, I lifted the pump to start the water. Kit didn’t look down, or over, or at anything except the mostly barren expanse outside. It made my heart ache to see him so withdrawn. From me. From everything.

Once the kettle was full, I grabbed Kit’s hand and gave it a tug. His fingers twitched in mine before he stirred, slow to return from whatever dark place he’d wandered off to. He didn’t resist as I turned him to face me.

His features were still drawn tight, but I’d seen him soft. I knew what lived under that wary silence and how bruised he’d been before I ever laid eyes on him. Wounds that had never quite closed. And today had only torn them wider. The names he’d add to his list now, the ones he’d carry like ghosts… the ones he claimed haunted him already.

My fingers brushed a curl back from Kit’s forehead as I gazed up at him, trying to peek through the cracks in his emotional walls.

“I’m not saying it will be okay. But we’ll be together. I’ll be with you. And I’m not sorry I came back.”

“You won’t be with me all the time,” he replied. His voice was low, scraped raw. “I’m at Merrick’s disposal now. No longer in the forge. He’s assigned another man to take it over. I’m not sure who.”

“Oh…” The word slipped out before I could catch it, and I hated the way it sounded. Small and selfish.

“It shouldn’t change things too much,” Kit added. “You can carry on with your leatherworking. You may even impress him.”

I gave a breath of a laugh, dry and bitter. “When did this become about you comforting me?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like you needed it.”

I paused, looking up at him and seeing the shadows under his eyes and the stillness that was more than weariness. It was surrender, almost. Like he was already downed and waiting for the next blow.