Page 56 of Secondhand Soul

“Rhea really could use the help. You can’t be working on cars, and also ordering parts, handling billing, doing the fuel orders, state inspections...” Manny trails off and shakes his head. “She won’t work on the premises. But she’s going to stay in town. This might be the safest place for her. What if that Pazcuso guy makes another revenant? One that's not brave enough to fight back? This might be the only place where she’d have anyone strong enough to help her fight.”

All night, the same thoughts swam in my head. What if, what if, what if. What if she dies because she won’t hurt me? What can I do? At one point, I thought about grabbing her and running with her. I think about her running somewhere far away, back to California, or maybe up to Maine, or Alaska, with the new version of me—an uglier, slavering, hunchbacked beast—chasing her. I won’t be there to tackle it, to save her. Pazcuso could find her anywhere she ran. He won’t let it go. He always makes a big deal about unfinished business, which is why he hasn’t stopped looking for me, even though it’s been months.

“She should leave town. Pazcuso will send someone for her eventually, and I don’t want her near you guys,” I grunt.

“We could say the same thing about you. You’re millions of dollars of investments in science and dark magic. Victoria is just a human with a gun. I bet he’s got a lot more of those.”

“Then I’ll leave. Why do you think I won’t put down roots with an address and my name on an electricity bill?” I laugh.

Manny’s hand snags my elbow. “Don’t talk like that. You know we want you to take the apartment. We’ve offered it a dozen times!”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not in pristine condition right now.” My voice is mocking, and it’s a testament to Manny’s patience that he just sighs.

“Rhea is already calling Nigel Salvin, right after she calls Fia Frobisher.”

“Rhea is a photographer. Why does she need Fia Frobisher?” I frown, confused. All I know about her is that she’s a sports photographer, her husband is a big, shaggy yeti on the hockey team, and she’s one of Rhea’s best friends. They could spend hours talking about things like exposures and apertures.

“When Fia used to travel around the country, she used an RV. She still uses it when she and Bryce travel during the off-season. Right now it’s hockey season, and she’s staying put. Victoria can live there for a few weeks.”

“In an RV? For a few weeks? It’s going to be freezing in there,” I protest before I stop to think whether or not I care if she freezes to death.

Shit. I do.

“You live in an uninsulated box of stone in a cemetery!” Manny frowns and pokes my shoulder.

“Yeah, but I’m not living.”

“You are not human. You are living. You are breathing. You are a person, my son, and you deserve a home. Live with Rhea and me. Live in the apartment,” Manny pleads, stepping in front of me.

He called me son.

My heart does somersaults. “I don’t need a handout,” I mutter, and I know I sound like a sulking teenager.

“You’re our son. Why would this be a handout? All of this is going to be yours one day.” Manny gestures ahead of us to the distant outline of the garage.

“What?” I blink, confused.

“Yours and the baby’s. Our sons, or our kids, I guess I should say, since I don’t know what’s in the cards for us, but... But yes. One day we might pass on.”

“You’re both over a century.”

“One day, we might want to retire. Or just try another business. Or maybe we won’t, but the point is, if we do, this is going to be yours. Another branch. That’s more likely. You and your sister, or brother, would help us run this branch, and then expand,” Manny looks into the December sky with a big smile. “Nothing would make me prouder, Laz.”

I swallow six times before I can produce words. “But I’m not even... We’re not even really family.”

“Oh. Well, the baby won’t be really ours, either, then.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“You meant you don’t think you can be loved and adopted into my family, into my heart. When Victoria told us what she had originally come here to do, when Rhea thought...” Manny stops. He stops talking. Stops walking. For a moment, his face is pure panic, glazed over. “When we thought she had hurt you, Rhea dropped to the ground. I picked Victoria up, and I would have torn her head off if she’d hurt you. My son. I love you, Lazarus. So does Rhea. And I know you won’t believe this, but I think Victoria is falling in love with you. You were a hero to her. She knows the worst things about you, but she’s seen the best of you. You know the worst things about her, too. She wants to stay around to prove that she’s better than that. God, Laz. Your stories are awfully similar. Your futures might be, too—especially if you help each other.”

“I can’t trust her,” I blurt out. “Nothing else matters if I can’t believe her or trust her!”

Manny nods, scratching his big, square chin. “I get that. Trust broken takes time to rebuild. Why are you in such a hurry, Laz? You’re not going anywhere. Isn’t that what you say when you smoke? ‘Not getting any deader’? You can stick around for centuries. You can do it alone—or with someone who loves you.”

“She’s human. She’s going to age. Die.”

“Yep. But maybe not before she gives you a love that will last an entire lifetime. I’m just saying, don’t be in such a hurry to throw a person away because they made a mistake. After all, no one is just a collection of parts.” His eyes lock onto mine, unblinking. “No one should be thrown away for the parts of themselves that are less than ideal, especially not if they want to change.”