“I’m sorry she was so horrible.” Madeleine’s voice was choked. “I didn’t know how to stop her. Maybe it’s wrong to feel this way, but I wish I’d had that shotgun.”

“It’s lying over there,” Hæra mumbled. “Down the beach.”

“Down th…oh my God. I didn’t see it.”

“It’s wet. I don’t think it works anymore. Jonathan didn’t even fire it.” She shuddered. “Asgall killed him.”

And Hæra hadn’t stopped it. Jonathan’s corpse lay mere feet away in silent reprimand. After all I did for you, it seemed to say.

Madeleine said, “I don’t know about that. I actually think…never mind, we can talk about that later. I’ve got to get you out of the cold and—and take care of him.”

Hæra peered up at Madeleine. For six years, she’d hungered ceaselessly for the sight of her. Sister Madeleine had been the whole object of her desire; then, six weeks ago, Madeleine had become something else. Something more. But still, Hæra had hungered.

Not so, now. Instead, when she looked at Madeleine, she felt an ache that had nothing to do with her wounds. It wasn’t the usual, primal urge to hold her. It was a sudden and desperate need to be held.

Madeleine looked into Hæra’s eyes in a way that suggested she understood all of this, somehow. “We’ve got to get off the beach, okay? Lean on me.”

She hauled Hæra to her feet. Then she hooked her left arm around Hæra, aimed the flashlight with her right, and moved toward the steps that led up to the seawall.

“We can’t leave Jonathan h-here,” Hæra said. Her teeth chattered.

“We can’t carry him either. We’ll need help. Wait here.”

Hæra, useless and freezing, sat on the bottom step. Madeleine dragged Jonathan’s body far enough that high tide wouldn’t wash over it before “help” could get here. He was probably too heavy to be swept out to sea, but the ocean was vicious when it wished to be. Though Jonathan might not have minded, given everything he’d said in the cottage. About how Asgall was his destiny, and he’d been heartbroken that he hadn’t been eaten. He might have preferred the dark waters.

Hæra hid her face in her hands. Well, too bad. Asgall couldn’t have him. Jonathan would remain with her at the last. She would honor his death with human rites, whatever they were. She would show everyone what he’d meant to her, even though she’d never told him. It was the least she could do.

“What about the gun?” she asked when Madeleine returned.