J. Ellison - The Immortals

“Your love for him is your saving grace, you know.”

“Damn it, Ariadne. Quit it. That’s not fair.”

“Oh, Lieutenant. Don’t you see? Love is humanity. If you can’t feel, you become as empty and drawn as the boy. He had no love, not the right kind, anyway. His path was chosen long before you came across him. But yours? Yours is still being written. You have a choice. Love will save you. If you let it.”

“Has love saved you, Ariadne?” The words were cutting, and Taylor felt a moment of sheer remorse when she saw Ariadne flinch.

“I’m sorry. I’m…upset. This has been very difficult for me. I hate taking life, hate it worse than anything. And he was just a child.”

“Raven would have killed you and never given it a second thought, Lieutenant. And then he would have turned the gun on the crowd. He’d decided. Couldn’t you see that? Couldn’t you see he’d given up? His life was forfeit the moment he spilled blood the first time. He knew that. He accepted that. You must, as well.”

“My life is forfeit as well, is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” Ariadne said softly. “You were called upon to be a savior. That is your role, whether you’re comfortable with it or not. And saviors have to make sacrifices.”

Taylor reached for another beer. “Ariadne, why are you here? Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you and I are linked, whether you like it or not.” Eyes downcast, she folded her hands gently over her belly.

Taylor caught the gesture, heart in her throat. She set the beer down on the railing untasted, her mind whirling.

“No. It’s too soon to tell. Didn’t they give you Plan B at the hospital?”

Ariadne smiled, lips thin against her teeth. “I refused. Life is a gift, regardless of its origins.”

Taylor put both feet on the deck. “That’s a lovely sentiment, but for God’s sake, he raped you.”

“And you killed him.” The words weren’t accusatory, but Taylor felt like she’d been struck in the face.

Ariadne scootched closer, took Taylor’s hand. She spoke softly. “You had no choice, Taylor. Who knows how many lives you saved? You made a split-second decision. That’s what you’re trained to do. And it was the right one. That’s why I refused the pills. I could feel the stirrings inside me, knew that enough blood had been shed. I made a choice, too.”

How simply a life could be ended. A bullet, a flick of a knife. A heart turned to stone in despair.

The phone rang again, long and loud, the pealing bells grating on her nerves. She looked at the caller ID. Baldwin again.

Ariadne smiled. “He won’t stop trying, you know. He’s bound to you. He will protect you, whether you want it or not. Go to him, Lieutenant. Let him comfort you.”

Taylor stared into the witch’s blue eyes. Such calm, such purity. So sure of her path, her convictions. Taylor wished she was that certain.

Resistance was futile. She answered the phone.

Baldwin’s deep voice came through the line, relief bleeding through each word.

“I didn’t think you’d ever answer. Honey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised to hear how hollow her voice sounded. That wouldn’t do. There was no need to punish Baldwin. She tried again.

“The woman who worked the case with us, Ariadne? She’s here. We’ve been…chatting.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Good, you need cheering up. And I’m going to help you with that. I have some good news.”

“Really?” she asked. “You’re coming home?”

“Taylor, better than that. Much better. Honey, we have Fitz. We found Fitz. He’s alive. He’s hurt pretty bad, but he’s alive.”

She felt the thaw of disbelief begin.

“What?” she whispered.

“We’ve got him. He wants to say hello. I’m putting him on the phone right now.” She could hear the buoyant joy in Baldwin’s voice, and she stood up, focusing on the rustling sounds in the phone’s background. A moment later a gruff, familiar voice came through the phone.

“Hey, little girl. How’ve you been?”

“Fitz? Is that really you?”

The crusty laugh she’d been dying to hear sounded like gold. “It’s really me. Who else would it be?”

Goose bumps rippled across her flesh, so intense that Ariadne turned to stare.

“Thank God,” Taylor whispered.

For the first time since she’d killed Schuyler Merritt, she started to cry.