Page 123 of Demonic Cage
“I wish you had died instead of me.”
The last sentence is my brother’s, and I look at him. In his gray, lifeless eyes, I see the fire of revenge burning.
Bengt’s eyes.
Revenge.
Burning.
We stare at each other for a while. I blink. Then again. And then I smile.
Bengt was never vengeful. He would never have hurt me. He never wanted me to be sick instead of him.
This is all me.
Which means these are my own thoughts. Not my parents’ or my siblings’. I was right. This isn’t a memory. This is torture.
I am torturing myself.
I reach out toward my brother’s face. I don’t care that the skin is peeling from his bones. He is surprised by my touch.
“How much longer could you have been with us if I hadn’t visited the hospital? Would you have survived, Bengt?”
My brother stares at me blankly, but slowly shakes his head. It feels like my heart is splitting in two, like Pandora’s box.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice trembles, my eyes burn. “I brought the infection to you…”
“Which one do you mean, Lotte?” he asks, and his voice returns to the calm tone I remember. “When I died, I had more than one in me. Everyone knows that. Why don’tyou?”
I start crying. I hug him as tightly as I can, knowing I will never feel him like this again. If I had known there was one last hug, this is exactly how I would have done it.
I cry in his arms, and he soothes me with gentle strokes. I pull away from him because his skin is disintegrating between my arms. My gaze falls on Pandora’s book, and suddenly I remember why I’m here.
“Bengt.” I sniffle toward him as his skin slowly decays in my hands. “I need to find a dagger…”
“The key you seek, leading to Heaven or Hell, is where you can see your sins and hopes,” he says, and his voice is as calm as I remember.
I stare at Bengt. Where you cansee… I understand…
I grip his shoulder.
“Bengt!” I shout happily at him. “I know what you’re talking about!”
My brother smiles, just as he always did. I know it still hurts; that I’m not over it yet. But I no longer blame myself.
“Don’t go…” I whisper to him.
The skin on my brother’s face slowly peels away, and the light in his eyes fades. As his face crumbles, the warmth I can feel on his shoulder disappears. I reach out for him, but I can only touch the cold air.
The lake ejects me. Gasping, I try to expel the water from my lungs, vomiting the river’s contents while on all fours. I grab at my neck and clutch the key pendant.
Bengt…
That’s why I needed to come here. To remember Bengt. The demon and angel blood in me gives all the answers, and the answer was always within me. I don’t know where I saw that dagger or why I know where it is. But I needed to remember Bengt before his death, to know that I am not to blame. I didn’t kill him.
I take a deep breath, and next to me, Léthé does the same, but she lies weakly on the ground in her human form, naked.
“How did you get back?!” she snarls at me, and I cough up more water. “You should have stayed! Everyone,” she groans as if speaking is difficult, “everyone stays there.”
