If any of them moved even a matter of inches,
Roxy’s heart would be left in Gahiji’s hand and she’d
be dead. Gone. Sent to Osiris and the Field of Reeds.
Or maybe sent to Hades. To Ah Puch. To Yama or
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Gauna. There were so many damned gods and demigods ruling over territories he could never hope to
enter. How would he find her in the vast Underworld?
Or maybe Roxy Tam would go somewhere else, to
a heaven Dagan knew nothing about. He had no idea
which god or goddess would open their arms to her. He
didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to find out.
He wanted her right here, Topworld, alive and
bitching.
But, viscous and dark, her blood was welling from the
edges of the wound in synchrony with the beat of her
pulse. Gahiji’s hand was acting like a poorly fitted cork.
If he pulled it free, the wound would bleed like a fountain,
a geyser. She would bleed out in minutes, maybe
seconds, and there wasn’t a thing Dagan could do to stop
it.
He raised his eyes and found Roxy’s gaze focused
on him. She was aware, he could see that. She knew
exactly what had happened, exactly how dire her situation was. He didn’t know what could possibly fix this.
He killed things. He didn’t save them.
Gahiji turned his implacable gaze on Dagan. “Unhand
me. Let me finish it. You only prolong her pain.”
“Leave go her heart, Gahiji. It is not yours to take.”
It’s mine, you bastard. Her heart is mine, has been
since I let her keep it eleven years in the past.