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Nothing will take her from us, and I will hold her close until she believes that.
I stay awake all night, watching her face and realizing she doesn’t escape her worries even while sleeping. When dawn rises, she gasps awake as if a brutal nightmare demands she rise. My heart twists into knots at the pain in her eyes as she looks at me. She cups my cheek, and I lean into her warmth. Her eyes sweep across my face as if memorizing it, as if she’s worried it will be the last time she sees it.
I lean in and kiss her softly, wishing I could take these concerns from her eyes, stop her nightmares, and change her past, but I can’t.
Like all of us, she’s stuck with the horrors that brought her here. I won’t let them claim her again, just as my own have been dampened. I pour that into my kiss.
I will keep her safe no matter what.
I will keep our family safe.
I feel her tears against my skin, and each one is like a brick in my heart. I carry them with me, a reminder of what we are fighting for.
A pulse yanks us apart and wakes the others, our eyes widening.
“A call,” I murmur, and she nods, swallowing hard. “Are you okay to do this?”
“I have no choice. None of us do,” she reminds me. “We answer the call no matter what. It’s our duty.”
“I choose my heart over duty,” I tell her. “If you can’t, then I will stay here with you. I will choose you.”
I expect the cirque to strike me down, but I don’t care. I fear losing her more than anything else.
Her smile brightens her entire face before she leans in to kiss me softly. “I love you for that,” she whispers. The words make my heart skip a beat, and hope and love pound through me so hard, I’m surprised she can’t feel it. “But I can handle it. I’m stronger than any of you know. I have to be for what’s coming.”
I fear that she’s right.
I never know what to expect when we get a call, especially so early in the morning. It can’t mean anything good. Most sins are committed in the dark, when people feel brave. Something about that oppressive cloak makes human monsters courageous enough to commit heinous sins, but right now, the sun shines brightly down on us. It’s a cozy day, a happy one, and we hesitate at the entrance to a wildflower field where the call drags us.
It feels strange.
The others clearly agree with my wariness, but we spread out, trying our best not to disturb or crush the flowers as we prowl through their midst, searching for the source of the throbbing echo in our souls. The call gets stronger as we search until we see a man sitting in the middle of the field with flowers crushed around him. I whistle to let the others know he’s here.
Tilting my head, I prowl around him and crouch, my eyebrows rising under my mask at the sight. He’s not hurt. In fact, there isn’t a single mark on him. His skin is tan and perfect, his hair glossy and styled. Even his clothes are pressed and unwrinkled, but his expression is dead.
Next to him, surrounded by flowers, is a revolver with a joker card beside it. It’s the most pristine card I’ve ever seen on a call.
He doesn’t seem scared nor shocked to see us. He simply blinks and glances down at the gun, and I realize why we’re here. He isn’t in danger. He is the danger—to himself.
He’s going to kill himself, and with some instinct deep inside his soul, he called us, even if he didn’t realize what he was doing.
“You called us,” I murmur, not letting Diamond speak. Something in his eyes reaches into my soul and calls to my own pain. I know what it feels like to think there is no way out. My family, the cirque saved me, and now, Ember saves me every day.
Sometimes all it takes is one helping hand, one word, one act of kindness to change the trajectory of someone’s life. Despite the numbness in his eyes, he called to us, which lets me know he isn’t as far gone as he wants us to believe.
Somewhere deep inside, he wants to live. He just doesn’t know how.
“Is this really how you want to end your life? Here, alone in a field?” I ask carefully.
His laugh is bitter, and it raises goose bumps on my arms as his fingers stroke the gun with familiarity. “I didn’t think anyone would care or that anyone would come.” His eyes rise to mine, and I swallow.
Sometimes it isn’t the monsters that live outside us that are the most dangerous—sometimes it’s the ones that live within us.
“You called us,” I repeat. “We will always come. Do you have a family? Anybody?”
This one is different. There is nothing we can slay for him. He has to be strong enough to do it himself.
“Not anymore,” he croaks. “There was a woman once, a fiancée, but after the war, I couldn’t be what she needed.” He looks back at the flowers. “How could I be? I hurt her every night, fighting off my dreams, my attackers that don’t exist anymore. A car backfired and I scrambled for cover, still hearing the screams. I can see, smell, and feel blood on my hands. I don’t deserve to live, not when so many of my friends died in my arms.” He shows his palms like the blood is still there, and for him, I bet it is. “So many died, and I lived.” He looks up at me. “Why? Why me?”
