Eve’s eyes opened properly. She stared, glassy eyed, into the sterile white wall at the end of her bed. The memory of that night had been haunting her for a week now. Every sound she heard turned into the wet thud of her heart on the stone. Every face she saw turned into her face, her victim. Everything she held felt like a weapon, a blade, a tool to end life.

  She’d refused. Of course she had – when given the option. But when her heart was on the floor and The Shade was in control…she’d killed. Consumed. She’d never forget the acrid sour taste that filled her soul.

  “Anastasia,” she whispered. A beautiful name. Maybe a beautiful soul. Sometimes it could happen, beautiful people manifested as beautiful powers. Temporal magic. That felt beautiful to Eve.

  Maeve…Sennar…Variel…Did I consume them too? The others? Did Arric and Castigan escape…me?

  Eve? You’re awake?

  It was Rose.

  Eve didn’t respond. She didn’t deserve to respond. “Love”, the thing had said, “Love” is what Rose called her.

  Eve didn’t deserve it.

  Her eyes began to blur as she took a stuttering breath. The wound in her chest ached for a moment before Rose took the pain. Another reminder of Eve’s lack of worth.

  Her heart still beat. Still resided in her chest – or rather, resided in her chest, once more – and it ached. Furiously. Horribly. Hungrily.

  And she couldn’t escape it. The hunger. It was new – or at least she hoped it was. At the very least, she’d never noticed it before. Not until the intrusion, not until…him.

  “I can see you eating yourself alive in there.” Arric, or maybe Castigan – Eve couldn’t be bothered to try and suss it out – called from the other side of the room.

  She didn’t respond.

  “You should eat something else, you know.”

  Eve took a corner-glance at the pile of uneaten meals in the trashcan. Her stomach burbled.

  “Your sister is worried,” he continued, “and I think Jace is, too. I think part of him just doesn’t want to have his last words to you be “fuck you you’re not bleeding all over my car, let’s walk.”

  Eve looked the other way. Distracting herself briefly with the silver-sheened balloon that had “Get Well Soon!” plastered on both sides in a gaudy gold font. It reminded her of the one she’d bought for mom before the cancer got worse.

  Stupid.

  “Are you…trying to die?”

  Eve wasn’t sure she knew the answer.

  “Because the Eve I know would say ‘fuck that’, then tell me to stop the bleeding and ‘fuck off’.”

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  A burst of choked air broke through her chest. Not quite a chuckle, not quite a sob. He was right. Four years had taught him something about her, at least.

  “I’m just…trying to stop the bleeding. Sew it. Cauterize it. Give you a transfusion, whatever you need…but I can’t if you don’t tell me where it’s coming from.”

  She let the words hang in the air as she stared at the balloon.

  Mom never stopped fighting, she thought, so…why would I?

  She drew in a fresh breath of resolve. Holding it in her chest for as long as the wound would allow. She could almost visualize it flowing through her. Filling her body with the strength she needed to move forward.

  “Castigan?”

  A grunt.

  “Arric?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Arric’s footsteps echoed quietly in the secured hallway of the hospital. They’d given Eve a whole wing of the intensive care unit to herself. They’d had to move about a hundred wounded soldiers to do it. Arric had watched as they’d done it.

  Castigan had been very careful to note the extent and cause of many of the injuries. He seemed particularly concerned about the number of soldiers who bore injuries from ice or fire, caring little for those maimed by other facets of war.

  Although they’d both gone silent when a young looking man with a giant claw through his chest was wheeled by.

  There wasn't much freedom here. Just a narrow white corridor with locked doors at both ends. He approached a little black vending machine that sat against one of the walls. It was the only thing the least bit remarkable about the hallway. He was sure he'd seen Eve use one before. Eating was something he wasn't used to. It had been 700 years since he'd had to do it routinely.

  “How does this –”

  Castigan pounded their fist against the glass. A dangling bag of chips fell free.

  Thanks. How did you know?

  The girl does it all the time. She’s not as good at blocking us out as she thinks. Or as you let her be. Regardless, I thought they looked palatable. Let me know how they taste.

  I can just share it with you. No guarding.

  I find the description of food to be much more appealing than actually eating, thanks.

  Arric leaned against the cold stone wall as he ripped the package open.

  Salt and oil crashed into his tongue, flooding his mouth with saliva. He threw the bag to the ground.

  “Fuck that's awful.” He said aloud.

  Told you.

  He stood there in silence, for a moment. The squirming squelch within his abdomen had him reconsidering the bag's new home on the floor.

  You were with the girl for four years?

  He jumped at Castigan's thoughts.

  Obviously nothing killed you, but you never dissipated? After four fucking years? I'd incinerate myself. I should incinerate both of us right now just to spare you.

  I was there because I wanted to be.

  What a load of bullshit. Don't pretend you wouldn't rather be at rest.

  Well I wasn't, was I? I was trapped. Same as you. Stuck in the Incorporeum.

  So dissipate. Rest.

  We both know I can't just do that. I can't just choose to dissipate. Not that I would anyway. Eve needs us.

  Sure, now she might, but before? We were just more trophies in her collection of souls.

  You know that's not true.

  Oh? Please, tell me more about what I do and don't know.

  You know you don't hate her.

  Arric's fingertips reddened as flames licked along his palm.

  Fuck off with that. You don't know anything.

  I know that you kissed her, too. That's all I need to know.

  The flames went cold.