him turn toward me, there in the ruins of Charity. He'd told me that he was messed up by it; he'd said the words and I'd agreed. It wasn't the same as seeing him fold. When I'd fallen into Uncle Eric's strange, occult world, Aubrey had been the one I called for help. He needed help now, and I didn't know what to say.
So I faked it.
"Tough shit," I said. "I know you think you're weak, but I don't. I think you're strong. You're scared? Yeah, welcome to the club. I've been doing everything at three times the sane pace for months because I'm scared. I hid your divorce papers since Denver because I was scared."
"You hid his divorce papers?" Chogyi Jake said, but I barreled on.
"Ex freaking out and ditching us wasn't exactly a statement of his confidence and heroism. He's scared. Chogyi just told you he's been scared so long he's gotten used to it. I'll bet you everything I've got that Eric spent half his life working through adrenaline rushes. We're all freaked out. We're all scared. You don't get to bail on me just because of that."
Aubrey took a step back, trying to pull his hand out of mine, but I held tighter. I was screwing it up. I was saying the wrong things. All I could hope for was to make his shame at being frightened worse than the fear itself.
"If you walk away on this one, I swear to God, you'll walk away on the next one too," I said. "And the one after that. And then you're done, right? Then Marinette wins."
"Jesus Christ, Jayn茅," Aubrey said. His voice was shaking. "You don't know how hard this is."
"I don't care how hard it is. You can do it," I said.
Aubrey opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he took a long, shuddering breath. In the dim light, his eyes glimmered with tears, but he set his shoulders. Chogyi smiled, watching us both. I didn't know if he was judging Aubrey or me or both. Or neither.
"Damn," Aubrey said. "Just... damn. Don't treat me with kid gloves or anything."
I moved close and put my arms around him. It was easy to forget how big he was-wide through the shoulders and ribs, solid, reassuringly male. I hoped I hadn't just screwed him up worse.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have been gentle. That was shitty of me, wasn't it?"
He took a breath before speaking. I figured that meant yes, but he'd let me slide.
"Eric told me that if I kept at it, there'd be something like this," he said. "A crisis point. There's nothing you said that he wouldn't have."
"The divorce papers thing?"
Aubrey laughed. It sounded pained.
"Okay, maybe not that part," he said. "But he'd have kicked my ass. You even sounded like him there at the end. I just... I didn't mean to..."
I put my head against his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing until my cracked ribs screamed with pain. I gritted my teeth and took it. I had it coming. People walked past us. The river murmured to itself, water hushing against the pilings. The soft sound of a city-traffic and birdsong, barking dogs and pounding radios, sirens and voices and the bells of the cathedral-washed past us.
"Um," Chogyi Jake said. "Jayn茅?"
I looked up.
Bracketing us on the promenade, a dozen people stood, staring at us. Most of them were black, but a couple were white or Asian. Their expressions were the blank of soldiers ready for a fight. I pushed Aubrey back and stepped toward them. In the glow of the street lamps, the faces looked cold. I knew them. That man had been one of the drummers at Charity Hospital. The woman across from him had danced naked, calling the riders down into her body. And staring at us with deep, dark eyes, Sabine Glapion stood near the back of the crowd.
Struggling up the steps behind them, Dr. Inond茅 held Amelie Glapion's elbow. The old woman's head shifted from side to side like a serpent testing the air. And behind them, the deep black skin and graying hair of Joseph Mfume. The handful of tourists peering out over the darkening water took a look at the scene and scattered. My heart was thumping behind my ribs like it was trying to get out. All of the smartass shit I'd just said to Aubrey about fear drained out of my mind like it had never been there. I