Kiss The Dead

49

WHEN ALL THE wires had been snipped and the bomb taken away, I sat on the edge of the stage with Nathaniel on one side and Sin on the other. Nicky and Dev were talking to Pride, Claudia, and the rest of the guards on the side of the room. I think they were already trying to figure out what had gone wrong, and how they could keep anything this bad from happening again. I didn’t care.

I sat there with Nathaniel’s hand in mine, and Sin holding on to the other hand, and just sat there holding them, and being held. That was enough. That was more than enough.

“Is this what it’s like at your job?” Sin asked, and his voice sounded odd. I wasn’t sure if he sounded odd, or the shock and gunfire in an enclosed space was messing with my hearing.

“Sometimes,” I said.

“I don’t think I’d want to do this every day,” he said.

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good, then find some nice and much safer job.”

He laid his head on my shoulder, and since he was nearly seven inches taller than I was, it had to be awkward, but he did it anyway. He held to my one hand with both of his, even though his hands were larger enough than mine that he was probably holding more of his own hand than mine.

Nathaniel had one hand on my thigh, the other holding my hand. He kissed my cheek and I cuddled into the kiss. I felt Jean-Claude wake for the day, felt him draw that first breath, and then his voice in my head, asking, “Ma petite, what has happened?”

For some reason, that was what made me cry.