“That isn’t Cyrus,” Izzy said, trying to keep her voice steady. Tears streamed down her face. “His name’s Ever. You don’t even know him.”

“Please, man,” Ever said.

“Let him go, Seth,” Nephy said.

Seth looked over at Ever, blinked, with ophidian eyes.

And Izzy reached for the gun in her backpack.

Seth dropped his arm from Ever’s neck and tore away. Nephy followed.

Izzy ran after them, around to the front of the house. She held up the shaking gun and started firing in the general direction of where Seth had gone. It was like the gun had a mind of its own, awakened after sleeping so long at her side. But the best-aimed bullet only hit and punctured the side of Seth’s truck.

Izzy couldn’t have fired directly at him anyway: now he had Nephy by the arm, a human shield, a shield pregnant with Cyrus’s child. Seth dragged Nephy into his truck and drove off.

Izzy looked down at the gun in her hands. Dawn streaked the sky like blood diffused in water. The sun had begun to rise, reddening the dust.

Essence

Essence

Two weeks after the events at the House of Hearts, things were finally clear: Cyrus, trying to understand himself, had gone looking for Sky, and he had brought Nephy with him. Having realized what was happening between Cyrus and Nephy, Seth followed them to the House of Hearts and overheard the story of Osiris. Enraged by their indiscretion and incensed by the myth, Seth lured Cyrus outside that night, grabbed him from behind, hauled him into his truck, took him to the mine, and slit his throat, then dismembered the body and buried the parts in different mines. Months later, Seth had tried to kill Ever, believing he was Cyrus resurrected. By now, the police had fully recovered Cyrus’s body and Seth was in prison for his crimes.

A woman’s voice, thirsting for her lover’s essence, wailed rawly through the speakers in Ever’s house. Tonight was the first time Izzy and Ever had seen each other since everything went down. Both of them needed time apart, they’d decided, to try and understand what had happened. Izzy hadn’t seen or talked to anyone—not her parents, not Del and Jody, not Nephy. She’d gone home and stayed there, with Dog and Yard.

Ever sat hunched over on his leather couch with his hands clasped in front of him. He did not look at Izzy.