Dez had stopped, and I got myself moving again. My empty stomach rumbled, and I realized I had no idea when I last ate. Normally on these patrols, I’d already eaten three days’ worth of meals and half of whatever...whatever Zayne had picked up.
My appetite immediately vanished.
Foot traffic picked up once the bars started shutting down, making it a lot more difficult to walk the sidewalks, but I stuck close to the businesses. Roughly around the same time, I did feel the presence of demons. Nothing serious like an Upper Level demon, though, and the building frustration was quickly becoming desperation.
Where could he be? Lifting my gaze to the sky, I saw nothing but darkness. What was he doing? I trudged on, refusing to acknowledge the aches and pains I hadn’t felt earlier but that were now rearing their ugly heads. What if he left the city? Panic blossomed, giving way to a sense of helplessness. God, I couldn’t even consider that. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Minutes turned into another hour. The streets quieted. The traffic slowed. Each step became more sluggish.
Dez finally stopped. “Trinity,” he said, his voice weary and heavy. “It’s time.”
I knew what he meant, but I still asked, “For what?”
“To head home.” He walked over, stopping to stand beside me. “We can pick this back up tomorrow, but if he’s out here, he doesn’t want to be found.” There was a pause. “You need your rest, Trinity. Finding him while you’re bone-dead tired isn’t going to do any of us any favors.”
Dez was right, but I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay out here until I found Zayne, but I nodded and I followed Dez back to the car. I climbed into the passenger seat, closing my eyes and praying to whoever that was listening that Zayne was still in the city, that he was safe and that it wasn’t too late.
6
It was close to dawn by the time I limped into the dimly lit apartment. I came to a stop as the elevator door slid closed behind me, unable to move as I looked around.
Everything I saw reminded me of Zayne. Not the Fallen Zayne, but my Zayne.
The exposed metal beams of the ceiling and the bare walls gave the apartment a very industrial vibe. Most of the living area was taken up by a large gray sectional couch wide enough for two Wardens to lay side by side. The simple chrome-finished end tables and coffee table were void of any personal touches. There was a punching bag hanging above rolled-up training mats, in the corner of a space I assumed was normally used for a dining area. Looking down, I saw a pair of Zayne’s sneakers by the door, placed there in preparation for a run. No one had touched them in the days since his death. Not Roth or Layla. Not any number of the Wardens who’d been in and out of the apartment. My heart ached as I lifted my gaze.
Well, almost everything reminded me of Zayne. The TV left on in the empty room wasn’t something Zayne would do. That was courtesy of either Cayman, the demon broker, or Peanut, the ghostly roommate. The rolled-up bags of chips, the empty soda cans on the kitchen island and the dishes in the sink were most definitely not Zayne. The mess was the result of any number of the people who’d been here, but the package of Oreos ripped open down the middle was definitely me.
If Zayne was here to see this, he would...he would probably sigh and then get down to cleaning like the place needed to be decontaminated. That brought a smile to my lips.
And another pang to the chest.
Toeing my sneakers off, I dragged myself away from the door, shuffled over to the couch, and found the remote. I turned the TV off and, unable to deal with the silence, I turned the TV back on five seconds later.
I then headed into the narrow, short hall that led to two bedrooms. The one to the left was empty. Zayne had said that was his room for when I got annoyed with him. There was only one bed, and he’d put it in my room, but my room was really our room. I stared at the door left ajar. I stood there for what felt like an eternity before I pushed the door open.
I didn’t dare look up. I couldn’t do it—couldn’t look directly at the stars Zayne had placed on the ceiling. I could barely deal with the faint, soft glow of them. Keeping my gaze lowered, I smacked around on the wall until I found the light switch, then walked past the unmade bed and rummaged around in the clothing spilling out of my suitcase until I found clean pajamas.
Walking into the bathroom, I turned the light on as I nudged the door shut behind me. In the mirror, I saw myself for the first time since I’d left the apartment.
The pajama bottoms slipped from my fingers, falling quietly to the floor. I left them there as I walked forward. My reflection shocked me.
My dark hair had dried in a ratty mess, but that was nothing new. Neither were the blue-tinted healing bruises along my cheeks, under my eyes. It was the new ones, the bruises that were more purplish along my chin. The new ones that had joined the healing ones around my throat.
I closed my eyes and clamped my jaw down, fighting the building scream. I wanted to scream until my throat hurt and my ears rang. I wanted to scream until I couldn’t feel anything ever again, because this wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Not for me. Not for Zayne. If it wasn’t too late, if I could bring him back and if he remembered this, he would...
It would kill a part of him.
God. I missed Zayne.
I missed Jada.
I missed Thierry and Matthew.
I missed Peanut’s goofy ass.
But I knew if I talked to Jada or Thierry and Matthew, they would be worried about me—about all of this—and I didn’t want to do that to them. Especially when there was nothing they could do. It wasn’t like they could come here. With Gabriel lurking around, it was far too dangerous.
There was a small, childish part of me, though, that wanted to not only rewind time, but to also change the past to one where we were all at...like a barbecue or something. Even Cayman would be there, and Peanut would be doing something weird, like pretending to eat the hot dog someone was actually eating.
But I couldn’t rewind time or change the past.
Heart and chest heavy, I moved away from the mirror and turned on the shower, cranking up the hot water. Stripping the soiled clothing off me, I stepped in. Air hissed through my clenched teeth as the hot spray hit old and new abrasions. I pushed through it, watching the pink and brown water circle the drain until it cleared. I washed my hair twice and overloaded the loofa with so much body wash the pineapple and mango scented gel oozed down my arm. By the time I was done, the bathroom was a steamy fruit basket.
Once dressed in the pajamas, I picked up Zayne’s comb and worked out the tangles in my hair, hoping that there’d be a chance for him to get annoyed over that later. Leaving the bathroom, I grabbed the pillow and blanket, taking them out into the living room. I turned the corner of the couch into a bed and eased down, wrapping the blanket around me. The blanket smelled sweet, like chocolate and the sugary wine Matthew liked to drink. It smelled like Bambi—Roth’s familiar. The six-foot snake had spent the last several days curled up beside me, resting with her head on my leg while I healed. I think she’d done that because I’d helped return her to Roth. The pillow, though...