Page 57 of Deathless
If I had corporeal hands, I would reach for his. I would hug him in an attempt to seek comfort and strength. But all I had was this ghostly, detached feeling.
“Come with me?” I asked, despite knowing the answer.
Uncle Daren shook his head, the hint of a smile returning. “I have no body to return to, sweet niece. My place is here.”
“I don’t know if I can do it alone.”
“You’re not alone, Rori.” A gentle sensation of pressure wrapped around me, and it felt like this was my uncle’s way of hugging me. “You’ve got those men who love you on the other side. Your whole family. Fuck, every person alive right now wants you to win, whether they’re aware of it or not.” His non-corporeal squeeze became a little tighter. “And you’ve got at least one not-alive person rooting for you too.”
Never before had I wished I could cry so badly. I wanted to make myself small and let him rock me until I was soothed.
“You’ll still come see me, right?” I said. “When I’m dreaming, after this is all over.”
“Hell yeah. We’ll do the impossible stuff we can only do in dreams, like ride motorcycles over the ocean and shit.”
I laughed despite my fear. His sense of adventure and fearlessness was infectious. What I would have given to ride with him while he was alive.
“You ready, Rori?”
With my nod, the pressure of his embrace released me, and I felt myself floating away. “See you soon, Uncle Daren.”
His smiling face became smaller, like I was actually traveling a physical distance. “Knock ‘em dead, daughter of Demons.”
I startedto rouse as if waking up from a deep sleep. Some noise was breaking through the thick fog that had settled over me like a suffocating blanket. The sound was muffled at first, fuzzy and muted. Slowly it grew sharper. Clearer.
“Rori!”
I tried to blink, tried to wipe away whatever was blurring my eyesight, but neither my hands or eyelids moved. Where was I?Whowas I?
It felt like I was at the bottom of a muddy, murky lake, looking for the surface. There were ripples and distortions, and everything was so dark, so unclear. I thought I could make out a man’s face but wasn’t sure.
Why couldn’t I feel my body? Was I dead? Somewhere between life and death?
“Hello?” I tried to call out, but I didn’t seem to have a voice.
Shut up!A harsh voice reprimanded me that seemed to come from everywhere.Just be quiet, Aurora.
Aurora. Was that my name? It was pretty.
“...back to us, paloma...”
Paloma. Was that also me? A nickname? It meant something in another language. How did I know that?
Memories and thoughts tickled at me with the more questions I asked, the more I became aware of myself. The answers were there, just out of reach. But as I woke, I stretched and grasped for them. Who called me paloma?
Santos!I realized with a start. My sweet fighter, the Butcher. A brutal killer by necessity and my loving, eager-to-please partner by choice. He was here. He was trying to reach me.
“Rori!” Someone else called my name, and an overwhelm of emotion flooded me at the sight of Torr. My first love, the one I never believed would be mine. He’d come for me too.
I tried calling out to both of them, but the fog blanketing me darkened and became heavier. It dragged me down like an anchor, and the faces of my men became murky again.
Wait, who were they?
Torr! Santos!Voicelessly, I screamed out their names, trying to reach them while also keeping them in my mind, my memory. But they were slipping away so easily, like water through my hands.
I was grasping at hundreds of tiny, fragile threads, trying to keep everything together without losing again. My own name.My men. Who I was. My family. What happened to me. What I was fighting for.
Hold onto yourself, Aurora.Another voice that seemed to come from everywhere, but different than the first one. This one was masculine, warm. Somehow incredibly powerful and gentle.Hold onto yourself. Do not lose sight of who you are.
