Sinclair came upstairs hours later and cuddled me into his side. I sighed, and he stroked my shoulder and then kissed that same shoulder. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent... warm, clean cotton. And dried blood, of course. Mustn't forget that. Not ever.
"She died well."
"I don't give a fuck. I want her back. I want her here."
"As do I, Elizabeth. But I will honor her memory forever, for the sacrifice she made. It might have been your brains all over the foyer."
"Well, what if it was? Why should I be alive and Antonia be so much cooling meat?"
"I do not know, dear one. But I am fervently glad it worked out the way it did, for all I was fond of Antonia."
I mulled that one over for a minute or two while Sinclair sat up, slipped off my shoes, and rubbed my feet. I wiggled my toes against his palms and almost smiled. Then felt bad for thinking it'd be okay to smile, even for a second.
"I just don't get it," I said at last.
"Get it?"
"When stuff this awful happens, you're supposed to learn something. Look Both Ways Before You Cross The Street. Be Kind To Children And Small Animals. Something. Jeez, anything. But there was all this death, all this waste, and for what?"
Sinclair was quiet for so long I assumed I'd stumped him, a rare and wonderful thing. But he was just trying to figure out how to break it to me. Should have known.
"It is that to be queen," he said at last. "There will be times when you will see an ocean of blood and despair. So it says in the Book of the Dead, and so it shall be, dear wife."
"You suck at cheering me up. You're not telling me there's gonna be worse days than this?" To say I was appalled would be putting it mildly. "What else did that rotten Book of the Dead tell you?"
He paused for a long time. Then: "Elizabeth, I can promise nothing, save that I will always be by your side."
I noticed he didn't answer the question. "Oceans of blood," I said.
"Possibly. Yes."
"We'll just see about that."
"Elizabeth, if you'll forgive a pun, do not bite off more than you can chew."
"That's been the story of my life since I woke up in that funeral home wearing the Ant's shoes. Oceans of blood? Shit on that. Shit all over that."
I had no idea what I was going to do, or how. But I was going to work real hard to make sure my friends and I never had to go through a week like this again.
This was going to sound dumb, but the empty crib in the next room was practically calling my name. I had to stop fobbing my brother on other people.
I wondered if the Ant ever visited him.
