AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Item number two,” he said as he lifted his arms out to either side, “you should know that, as far as we can—the boy and I, that is—as much as we allow ourselves—”
“Don’t.” Isobel broke into a run.
“We really do—”
“Pinfeathers, stop!” she yelled.
“—love you.” This he said while tilting backward, tipping toward the floor.
“No!” Isobel screamed, her cry echoing through the hall the moment before the crash sounded.
Bursting along all the refitted lines and reconstructed fissures, the Noc’s doubled body exploded, several shards pinging her shoes.
Isobel collapsed to her knees, her hands leaping to grasp at the skating shards as she watched the blackness in his solitary eye snap out.
The back of his skull had caved inward. The sleeves of his jacket, Varen’s jacket—their jacket—had flattened out along with the Noc’s black clothing.
In less than a second, Pinfeathers had executed his own demise, and as far as Isobel could tell, the only part of him that had survived total annihilation was his face.
Faces.
Split down the middle, the two halves lay like masks atop the debris.
Isobel took hold of the jacket.
She pulled the garment from the rubble, causing splintered bits of Virginia’s fractured portrait to tumble and scatter free, broken now for good.
“I love you, too,” she whispered into the collar, hugging the jacket close. “Both of you.”
24
Mummer
For a long time, Isobel continued to hold the jacket close, eyes closed.
Breathing long and slow, she detected an almost imperceptible trace of Varen’s scent: dried orange peels, crushed leaves, and incense. Along with the aroma came the bitter taste of the dust of this world and, perhaps, of the Nocs, too.
She would have shuddered at that thought if she’d allowed it to linger. She might have even let herself cry.
But Isobel didn’t have the luxury of indulging in either form of release. There was still so much hanging in the balance, so much piled on her shoulders. Even more than before. Because now . . . now she really was alone.
Pinfeathers had believed in her, though. And along with his confession of love, the Noc had suggested that somewhere deep beneath the outer layers of his consciousness, Varen shared the conviction that Isobel would come for him. If that hadn’t been true, Pinfeathers would not have sought her out. Not if there wasn’t still a chance she could turn this all around. He wouldn’t have risked bringing Scrimshaw this close just to warn her about an inevitable and inescapable end. Or even to say good-bye . . .
He wouldn’t have played Lilith’s game that way.
And if Isobel hadn’t still been a threat herself, would Lilith have needed to form such an elaborate weapon against her by recombining the Nocs?
No, Isobel thought, opening her eyes. She wouldn’t.
Pulling herself to her feet, she looped the jacket around her shoulders. She threaded her arms through the sleeves, allowing its familiar weight to settle into place.
Even if its embrace could not warm her, the feel of its stiff yet well-worn fabric and the memories it carried still gave her comfort.
She scooped her hair, gritty from all the ash, out from beneath the collar, but paused when again that nagging sensation of being watched tingled along her spine.
Heeding its call, Isobel turned away from the wreckage of the Nocs’ commingled forms.
Her heart stammered a beat, confusion rattling her.
