The Curse of Saints

by Kate Dramis

He could bear the layers of the seven hells. Would welcome them gladly if it meant that he could avoid the moment when she saw him fully and looked at him with disgust anyway.

But he didn’t know that secret she kept buried so deep; the one she hadn’t told a soul, not even Tova. Just as he didn’t feel the tempest of raw power inside of her—the way it threatened to devour until there was nothing left. I will destroy everything I’ve ever loved, just as I always have. She shook her head, emotion swelling in her chest, but Will pulled her closer. “I’m here. To pull you back from whatever edge you’re so afraid of falling over.” “You can’t promise me that,” Aya breathed. “We don’t even know where the edge is.” There was nothing but uncompromising will in his face. “Then I’ll go over it with you. To the seven hells themselves, if we must. No matter how far the fall.”

One of those tears slipped down Will’s face as he stared at her. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect you. To keep you from this. And I’ve failed. Every time I’ve failed. I couldn’t keep you away from Gianna. I couldn’t keep you from those masochists in the desert. And I can’t—I can’t breathe when I think of how many times I’ve almost lost you. Of how many times I’ve utterly failed you.”

Will’s breath was ragged as he pushed himself up, his legs trembling beneath him, his body unsure of how to move without the feeling of her woven throughout it. He’d never realized how constant her presence was; how much it sank into his very being, even when she shielded against him. As if there had been a single moment he hadn’t been aware of the very breaths she took.