The Mouse
Page 32
It was now quite clear to her now. She did understand. Sunny knew about grief. She had watched her father deal with his loss for her entire life. The old adage – ‘it’s better to have loved and lost, to have never loved at all’ – was bullshit, and Sunny knew that. There were times in her childhood when she could tell that her father would have gladly erased his entire memory of her mother, just so he could get a reprieve from the pain. Ben was lucky, and he’d found Steph, who did a decent enough job of taking away some of that pain and putting happiness in its place. But the pain was still there, reminding him every day of what he’d lost.
Hunter had loved his sister – she had been his favourite person – and she had died. He’d loved Pierce, and had experienced the agony of saying goodbye forever to someone he adored. Sunny could understand his reluctance to get involved with someone who was in danger all the time.
She let silence fall between them and they gazed out on the scene below.
Sunny felt content. She knew that the future would hold more heartache, but for now she was satisfied with the knowledge that Hunter really cared about her. Too much, he had said. Too much to carry on, in case he lost her, and he couldn’t bare the pain.
But we always lose the ones we love, one way or another. Sooner or later, death comes for all of us. He’d get used to the idea.
And you can’t stop loving someone just by willing it. Sunny and Hunter had started down a path that there was no going back from. She knew in her heart that their feelings weren’t going to subside. He knew too, that’s why he was scared. This love felt like a hurricane – noisy, passionate, maybe destructive – but most certainly unstoppable.
The loud music and chanting had quietened down, the music turned soft like a lullaby. Hundreds of lanterns had been lit, hot air filling them slowly. They gently floated out of the arms of the revelers below and drifted into the balmy air. Hunter and Sunny watched, silently, in the shadow of the giant old temple behind them, and watched the soft orange lights fill the night.
EPILOGUE
The big man filled up the space in the backseat of the limo. The glare of the screen in front of him was the only illumination in the dark, stuffy limo; it cast a harsh light on his rough-hewn features; the wide boxer nose, the thick straight black eyebrows, the square heavy chin. His eyes were deep black pools, and they stared intensely at the woman on the screen in front of him.
“She is not displaying any signs of talent as yet,” the woman coldly reported. “I have been watching very closely.”
“I hope you are certain of that, Gorganna.” The man’s voice was deep and growly, and vibrated with a timbre that sent chills down the spine. “Another member had requested a pickup of a subject not far from your location, and the subject was not there when the chopper arrived. Could that have been your charge?”
“No,” the woman replied, her voice certain and unapologetic.
“I hope not,” the man said slowly, the growl of his voice dripping with menace. “For you know what your fate will be if we find that you have lied to us. You would never lie to us, would you, Gorganna?”
The woman on the screen paused; the impassiveness of her face was betrayed by the fear and hate in her eyes. “No, Nesti. I would not lie to you.”
“Good.” The man’s deep voice purred with satisfaction, and the woman on the screen relaxed a fraction. “Nevertheless,” he continued, smiling. “I think that it would be prudent to bring her a bit closer to us. Just in case.”
The End