cheek, forcing her head to remain under.
Elise could almost see him glaring at her through the amber haze, even as chest hitched, her vision faded, and the wave crested over her chest. It tasted foul. Like a mixture of blood and afterbirth and liquefied organ meat. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and the insides of her ribs.
She hoped that when she sank under the flow, she would die. And she hoped that she would see James waiting on the other side.
But she was not nearly so lucky.
III
Elise woke up in bed again. Her eyes opened on a bright gray morning. There was an altar under the window, decorated with figures of the Horned God and Mother Goddess, and the walls were covered in bookshelves. She knew that if she were to look over the side of the bed, she would see her shoes beside a pair of men’s loafers meant to look as if they belonged to James.
This was an illusion, just like everything else had been an illusion, but it was a convincing one. The air on her skin felt real. The sheets under her felt real, too. Almost as real as the sadness that rolled through her, thick as the blood of the Tree.
Dead.
Elise had lost James once before, when he had been possessed by the Hand of Death. Her only choice had been to kill him. She had raged against life and death, fought to bring him back, and won. When he had returned to life, they had shared one heartbeat, one soul, one mind. They were two halves of a whole.
Since then, Elise had suspected that James’s death would mean hers, too. A soul couldn’t survive being severed into pieces.
But he was gone, and she hadn’t died—maybe beTimecause she couldn’t die anymore. And instead, she was trapped in Heaven.
How dare he have left without her?
She heard the door open. Dishes clinked together as a man entered carrying a tray of breakfast. “Good morning,” Adam said. The words didn’t seem to come from His mouth. He spoke from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Elise couldn’t bring herself to reply. Her hands were limp in her lap.
He set the tray beside her and sat on the edge of the bed. “You look sad,” He said, pulling a lock of her hair between His fingers, rubbing the silken curls with His thumb. When she didn’t respond, Adam eventually dropped His hand. “I made you breakfast. It’s your favorite.”
Her favorite, dragged from her memories of the way that James used to cook breakfast for her—which he would never do again.
She tried to eat.
Adam watched her as if fascinated by the process. His eyes never left hers as she lifted the toast to her mouth, sank her teeth into the bread, and felt the all-too-real flavor of butter spreading over her tongue.
Elise stared at the near-perfect circle of tooth marks she left behind on the toast. When He had first brought breakfast in, she thought that it looked like there had been strawberry freezer jam on the toast, but she hadn’t tasted it when she’d taken a bite. It was gone now, as if it had never been there at all.
Subtle inconsistencies. The lie betraying itself.
“What’s bothering you, Elise?” He asked. “Isn’t it perfect?”
“Perfect,” she echoed, taking another bite.
It was toasted exactly the way that she liked it, missing freezer jam aside. She had no appetite for it.
Elise set the food aside and pushed the blankets off of her body. She was wearing a nightgown again. Naked, slave leather, a nightgown. Were any of them real? Did it matter?
Adam’s hand trailed down her shoulder, fingers slipping underneath the strap to brush bare skin, and chills pricked Elise’s skin. “Do you like it?” He asked. “I chose it for you.”
It looked nothing like the kind of clothing Elise would choose to wear. It had lace around the high neckline, a skirt of modest length. It felt like she had stepped into another woman’s wardrobe.
Did she “like”it? What a stupid fucking question to ask.
He leaned in, and she knew that He was going to kiss her. She didn’t stop Him. Didn’t
Elise could almost see him glaring at her through the amber haze, even as chest hitched, her vision faded, and the wave crested over her chest. It tasted foul. Like a mixture of blood and afterbirth and liquefied organ meat. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and the insides of her ribs.
She hoped that when she sank under the flow, she would die. And she hoped that she would see James waiting on the other side.
But she was not nearly so lucky.
III
Elise woke up in bed again. Her eyes opened on a bright gray morning. There was an altar under the window, decorated with figures of the Horned God and Mother Goddess, and the walls were covered in bookshelves. She knew that if she were to look over the side of the bed, she would see her shoes beside a pair of men’s loafers meant to look as if they belonged to James.
This was an illusion, just like everything else had been an illusion, but it was a convincing one. The air on her skin felt real. The sheets under her felt real, too. Almost as real as the sadness that rolled through her, thick as the blood of the Tree.
Dead.
Elise had lost James once before, when he had been possessed by the Hand of Death. Her only choice had been to kill him. She had raged against life and death, fought to bring him back, and won. When he had returned to life, they had shared one heartbeat, one soul, one mind. They were two halves of a whole.
Since then, Elise had suspected that James’s death would mean hers, too. A soul couldn’t survive being severed into pieces.
But he was gone, and she hadn’t died—maybe beTimecause she couldn’t die anymore. And instead, she was trapped in Heaven.
How dare he have left without her?
She heard the door open. Dishes clinked together as a man entered carrying a tray of breakfast. “Good morning,” Adam said. The words didn’t seem to come from His mouth. He spoke from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Elise couldn’t bring herself to reply. Her hands were limp in her lap.
He set the tray beside her and sat on the edge of the bed. “You look sad,” He said, pulling a lock of her hair between His fingers, rubbing the silken curls with His thumb. When she didn’t respond, Adam eventually dropped His hand. “I made you breakfast. It’s your favorite.”
Her favorite, dragged from her memories of the way that James used to cook breakfast for her—which he would never do again.
She tried to eat.
Adam watched her as if fascinated by the process. His eyes never left hers as she lifted the toast to her mouth, sank her teeth into the bread, and felt the all-too-real flavor of butter spreading over her tongue.
Elise stared at the near-perfect circle of tooth marks she left behind on the toast. When He had first brought breakfast in, she thought that it looked like there had been strawberry freezer jam on the toast, but she hadn’t tasted it when she’d taken a bite. It was gone now, as if it had never been there at all.
Subtle inconsistencies. The lie betraying itself.
“What’s bothering you, Elise?” He asked. “Isn’t it perfect?”
“Perfect,” she echoed, taking another bite.
It was toasted exactly the way that she liked it, missing freezer jam aside. She had no appetite for it.
Elise set the food aside and pushed the blankets off of her body. She was wearing a nightgown again. Naked, slave leather, a nightgown. Were any of them real? Did it matter?
Adam’s hand trailed down her shoulder, fingers slipping underneath the strap to brush bare skin, and chills pricked Elise’s skin. “Do you like it?” He asked. “I chose it for you.”
It looked nothing like the kind of clothing Elise would choose to wear. It had lace around the high neckline, a skirt of modest length. It felt like she had stepped into another woman’s wardrobe.
Did she “like”it? What a stupid fucking question to ask.
He leaned in, and she knew that He was going to kiss her. She didn’t stop Him. Didn’t
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