Part II

Artemis lay on her bed, her arms spread eagle as her mind wandered. Once Tay left, it would just be her. She could leave too. She could go with him but at the same time, she couldn’t. Her sentence was over but yet she hadn’t forgiven herself—she couldn’t let herself off the hook so easily.

She did this every time another one left. It made her doubt her decision to stay as she watched them walk away.

With a sigh, she stood up and walked to the window where she brushed the lace curtains aside. Peering out the glass panes, she watched the cars and buses below her as they made their way down the road and towards the outskirt of the city. The moon was at its zenith and illuminated the water below the Broad Bridge.

The window made a screeching sound as she pushed it open and let the night air wash over her tired body. She took a deep breath and relaxed against the window sill. The sound of traffic and scattered bits of people’s conversations drifted up to her but she ignored them, focusing only on the night sky.

The stars shown so brightly, appearing ever so close but in reality, they were so far away, so far out of reach and yet they continued to shine. She closed her eyes. Orion was 2,000 light-years away and yet it still shone 375,000 times brighter than the sun. She could see the constellation in the sky, watching the stars twinkle.

The air danced around her and through her hair, tangling it slightly. She knew she would have to pull a comb through it before she went to bed or else it would become a mess of knots by morning. She reluctantly pulled the window shut and let the lace curtains cover it.

She wished she could be like Orion—lost in space but still shining as bright as it always had. The star had never lost its gleam but had consistently shown through the late winter sky.

Her silk robe danced about her ankles as she jogged down the stairs. Tay sat at the kitchen table, coffee mug between his hands. He was staring off into space as she sat down across from him and waved a hand to get his attention.

“Oh,” he said, snapping too. “I thought you had gone to be already.”

She shook her head. “Too early. And besides, it’s your last night here.”

Forcing a smile, he rotated his mug, making the liquid splash against the sides in a hypnotic pattern. He was doing it absentmindedly, a habit he had developed many years ago and continued to do whenever he had something weighing on his mind.

“What’s bothering you?” she propped her chin on her hands.

He looked up from his drink. “Should I do this? Should I leave?”

She was quiet. She could tell him not to go. She could tell him to stay with her, to remain where he always had as time went by around them. What would a hundred more years do to an immortal soul?

Frowning, she tried to find an answer. It would be wrong to make him stay—she had already come to that conclusion. But now she realized it would be wrong of her to affect his decisions. It was his to make and her say should have no impact on it.

“Do what you want to do,” she answered, sliding down in her chair. “You’ve done your part. You’re free to leave. Whether you want to or not, I don’t care. Go or stay. It’s up to you.”

Her words were cold and detached and they burned her mouth as she said them. She almost regretted them as they hung in the air. She tried not to let her mind linger on the fact that the things she had just said where a lie but she couldn’t focus on anything else. If she focused on Tay, she would be reminded that he was leaving. If she focused on her, she would realize how long she had been in that house and how long she would continue to be there.

The thought of being alone once again scared her. The last time the last one had left, she had almost killed herself. And now, Tay was leaving and the cycle would start over. She’d be alone for several months and then the Masters would send another clan to monitor the city until their time was up.

With a sigh, she pushed back from the table and stood.

“Just make sure you have your mind made up by tomorrow morning,” she told him. “Seneca will lead you back to the Library.”

He nodded. “Good night, Artemis.”

“Good night, Tay,” she returned.

The stairs creaked and groaned as she made her way towards her bedroom. They seemed to be crying out in the pain she couldn’t express, speaking with words she couldn’t understand.

Her door shut behind her with a gentle thud, leaving her to stand in the middle of her room, alone. It was suddenly suffocating but she couldn’t make herself move to open the window. It felt as if the walls were getting too close, trapping her there. But in reality, they weren’t moving.

Taking a deep breath, she sat on her bed and pulled her legs underneath her. As she surveyed the room, she tried to convince herself that she’d be okay if Tay left.

It would be fine.

It had to be.

She let out the breath she had been holding, hating how her brain worked. Tay had been around for 400 years—she couldn’t imagine her life without him. So many times they had sat in that kitchen, sharing a meal. So many times they had lounged in the living room, enjoying some sort of entertainment. And so many times, they had sat in silence in the libraries as they read of the past histories of the city. They would be reminded of the days they’d forgotten as they read the journals written by their own hands. They would be reminded of all the things the two had gone through together.

She flopped down on her back and stared at the ceiling, willing to tears to disappear. There would be no more happy days with Tay. There would be no more opportunities for her to share a meal with him or sit around and do nothing.

“Stop,” she commanded. “It’s not like he’s dying.”

Frowning, she once more let her brain wander, a habit that was in desperate need of breaking.

He wasn’t dying but yet, somehow to her, it felt like he was. His memory wouldn’t die. That would be preserved in the Great Libraries system forever but his memory of her would be completely gone. As would his memory of the past 400 years. He would live the life of a normal human being, something he had been denied while he did his sentence.

She closed her eyes as the tears welled up. She knew it would be easier for them to escape that way but she didn’t want to stare at the artifacts around her room—another reminder that everything was changing and she wasn’t.

A day would come when she did. She knew it would. It just wasn’t today.