Page 86 of Deadly Maiden

A key swings out with the chain when I take it from him, a large key, as white as a bone.

Does this mean I say goodbye to Kyvin? Will he disintegrate like the raven?

I step away, and he follows me, halts. “Stay.” I push my palm forward and take another step.

He tilts his head and stays where he stands.

“You can go now?” I cannot help the query at the end. What is he for?

His mouth works again as if he seeks words to speak. “I. Stay. With you.”

“Fuck. Again,” Rorsyd mutters.

“I can’t just tell him to go away. He used to be somebody. He used to be alive. Maybe he is important to me. To us?”

Rorsyd puts his hands on top of his head and hangs on. “Okay. I give in. He seems harmless, and Ineverthought I would say that about an undead guy. He can stay here, until we figure this out. If you can get that into hisahhhhbrain? Does he evenhaveone?”

“I do not know.”

That’s a good idea and a good question. Will Kyvin obey me?

If he follows me into the open, we will have to put him down, with a shovel. Or something.

My stomach gets queasy at that notion. I guess I am somehow attached to this poor man…thing…whatever.

This is what necromancers do. I feel responsible for his unlife.

“Listen, Kyvin, if you want to stay with me, you have to do something for me first. Okay?”

He stares. Or I think he does…those white eyes.

“You have to hide here, in the lake. The water, right?” I think I see a small movement of his head that could be a nod. I exhale. “Good. So when it gets darker. When that sun goes away, get in the water until tomorrow. When the sun rises, I will return.”

“You. Will?”

Is that a touch of yearning in his voice? Of loneliness? Or am I reading what is not there? Probably that.

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

Rorsyd and I pack up and leave him, standing silent and still, hidden in the trees. I dare not look back as we head for the library, but I imagine those white eyes tracking us.

It might be creepy for someone else? For me…it has the weirdest echoes of me leaving a pet behind. We had a cat once. Like all pets do eventually, she grew older and died. I cried for the longest time. I was eight. I hated death that day.

“If he isn’t here tomorrow, I will be relieved,” Rorsyd says, holding open the door.

“Yeah.” But my smile is the weakest ever.

“Hey.” He has my hand. “I have not the faintest real inclination as to what is going on in your mind, but I’m here for you. Even if you don’t explain.”

All around us, the library is hustling. I halt.

“He reminds me of a cat we lost, years ago.” I waggle my finger toward the rear doors. “He’s all alone out there.” My voice cracks.

He drapes his arm over me, turns me so I face him, and hugs me to him, but says nothing.

“I’ve confused you, haven’t I?” I say to his chest, the sound muffled.

“Yes. Completely. But it doesn’t matter.”

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