Page 9 of Night Fae
"Stop fighting me." Zev snapped as Malik clawed at his arm. "And hold still for a minute."
"There's no time!" Malik's voice cracked. He could see the blood trickling down his brother's face, could smell gasoline and burning rubber. "Please, they need help?—"
Zev lifted him. "They don't need help. They're dead."
Terror clawed up Malik's throat. "No!" Why was the night fae saying such a horrible thing?
It couldn't be true. It couldn't be.
Zev carried him away from the car while Malik still tried to fight him.
"No, go back," Malik demanded. "Help them!"
Zev set him down on the asphalt. "Think, human. Youknowthey're dead."
"No, they're not dead. They're right there." Malik tried to turn back toward the car, but the words died in his throat.
The wreckage was gone.
Four granite headstones stood in its place, stark against a gray sky. Names and dates carved in cold stone.
No.
A sob ripped from Malik's chest. "Why did I survive?"
"You're dreaming." Zev's hands settled on his shoulders. "Stop wallowing in your grief."
But Malik couldn't tear his eyes from the headstones. Memories crashed over him—the funeral he'd attended in a wheelchair, coming home and picking up the pieces of Maya's half-finished puzzle from the coffee table. Mom's wedding ring, cleaned of blood, placed in a velvet box. Dad's reading glasses, folded on his nightstand where they'd never be picked up again.
"It should have been me." The words spilled out, raw and bleeding. "Why was I left behind?"
"Stop."
"If I hadn't suggested?—"
"I said stop."
"If we'd left a little later, if I hadn't hurried them?—"
"Oh for heaven's sake, human. Will you stop already?"
"I—" Zev's arms wrapped around him, and the shock of it cut off his words.
What was happening?
Whatever it was, Malik couldn't fight the desire to lean into it. His face pressed against soft leather, and the tears he'd been fighting broke loose. His fingers clutched at Zev's coat as grief ripped through him, fresh as the morning he'd woken up to the nurse telling him his survival was a miracle.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only feel the crushing weight of his 'miracle' pressing down on him.
Zev held him, silent and steady. No empty words of comfort. No platitudes about how it wasn't his fault or how they wouldn't want him to blame himself. Just the solid press of arms around him, anchoring him as the storm of grief raged.
Malik's tears soaked through leather and fabric. His throat burned. His chest ached.
Maya should be kicking ass at her dream job now. Jamil should be married. Mom should be planning holiday dinners while Dad urged her not to spend too lavishly.
But they were gone, and he was here.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time felt strange in this dreamscape.
