“So. What do we need to resurrect Henry,” Hawk said. She stood in the center of the room, toweling off her hair after a shower. She’d woken up feeling tired and dirty, as if she’d run for hours…or as if the fluids from the monstrous cannibal flowers had seeped into her skin. She did avoid scrubbing until said skin was raw, but only through the most herculean feat of will. Dressed in still more khaki, she did not look like the triumphant heroine. She looked, in fact, like she seriously needed another nap.

  Shadow said, “I’ve already told the soldiers, the medics, what I shall need. They are preparing the body for me as we speak. I’ll need Mattias and Henry, of course, and it would be best if Emile was there.”

  Hawk knew her friend. The odds of Emile getting within three feet of Henry’s body were about as remote as the canyons of Mars. “I’ll try,” she said.

  Emile was in the mess hall, attempting to eat the substance that was, technically, Frito Pie. The supposed chili could still double as wallpaper paste, though the meat bits floating in the overly thickened sauce would probably smell very foul after a while. “This is disgusting,” Emile said, by way of greeting. Then they ate a bite of it.

  “I think they’re stretching it with glue,” Hawk agreed.

  “What’s up?” Emile said.

  “We’re resurrecting Henry. We want you there,” She said.

  Emile was already shaking their head, and their next words spilled out hemorrhagic and hot. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Hawk, I just can’t. I can’t see him like that again. I can’t.”

  Hawk sat down carefully across from her distressed friend. “Are you sure seeing him dead is the reason?”

  “Hey, I didn’t see you suddenly all hot and bothered when the Shadow volunteered to take that shit Kaiser put together. Why are you coming down on my case?”

  “It’s different,” She said.

  “It’s still getting your lover back.” They said.

  “You’re deflecting because you don’t want to talk about Henry,” Hawk said.

  “Damn straight,” They said, and ate another bite of disgusting chili. They flinched. “It’s disgusting.”

  “Stop eating it.” Hawk said.

  “Yeah. Because we can fucking Door Dash a pizza or something right now. This is the only game in town. Boston is a fucking ghost town, thank God. But it means if you want food, you have to settle for what you’re given.”

  Ah hah. Hawk thought she saw the hole in Emile’s armor. “Kind of like Henry in that, isn’t it? You, having to settle for whatever you get.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” Emile said.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “Fuck you with a toilet plunger. Fuck you on fucking stilts.”

  Silence.

  “Stilts?” Hawk said, incredulous.

  Emile swallowed. Their lips pressed together into a very thin line, and they simply breathed for half a minute. Then the smirk escaped, the laughter. “Yeah, that was kind of dumb, wasn’t it?”

  “How would that even work?” Hawk said, and began to giggle. It was a mistake. She’d been on the verge of hysteria for days now. The laughter threatened to spill her over, but she couldn’t help it. It just felt good to laugh. And Emile, after a few moments of stoic resistance, joined her with an undignified snort that just pushed Hawk a bit further down into the giggles.

  “Alright. You’re right. Okay? You win. Yes. I’m terrified of what Shadow is about to do. Like…what if he puts Henry back in wrong? And he’s not my Henry anymore.”

  Hawk personally thought that Henry had only been their Henry for about two weeks. But that wasn’t accurate. Their rivalry had spanned the better part of a decade, fueled as much by mutual affection as by a desire to best the other. In a way, Emile had known Henry as enemy nearly as long as she had known Shadow—no, Alex.

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  “He will be different,” She said, cautiously. “He’ll be different because time has moved on from the person he was when…well, he died, Emile. That sort of thing changes a person. It has to. And it isn’t fair to ask him to go back.”

  Emile looked up with a particular sharpness. “Hey. We’re still talking about Henry, right?” A longer pause. “You want him to use that shit, right? Like…you talked him into it, right?”

  Hawk shook her head. “He came up with it all on his own. And it’s what he wants. It’s not fair for me to try and oppose something he wants.”

  “I mean, usually when someone commits suicide, their loved ones are supposed to stop them.” Emile said, dryly.

  “But is that what he’s contemplating?” Hawk said.

  “He has no memory of being Alex. He’ll be jumping off into the unknown, from his perspective, and…why are you shaking your head?”

  “Because he does have memories of Alex. He remembered Baylor when we went into Henry’s dream maze to get Mattias back.”

  Emile, hearing this, nodded and said, “You do realize how fucking insane our lives are right now, right? Dream maze? You’re listening to yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Hawk said, then sighed. “Look. Just…give him a chance. Give Henry a chance. And Shadow. Let’s see if we can’t fix things. If we can’t—” she shrugged. “But we have to try.”

  And Emile, eating their disgusting chili, finally nodded their assent.

  ***

  The rite of resurrection, or whatever the Shadow would choose to call it, would take place in the morgue. Henry’s body lay on the metal table, head in the support, pale and naked and cold. The wound in his chest, over his heart, was a dark read mouth, bloodless skin around it open like ice-pale lips. His own lips were cyanotic.

  “Jesus,” Henry said, through Mattias’s mouth. “I’m fucking dead.”

  Shadow nodded, already in working form. “Yes. Come here. You will lie down on this table.” He paused, looking at the hard, small head-rest. “Is there something softer we can use? Something to blunt this object?”

  “It’s a morgue, dude,” Emile said. “They’re not worrying about the comfort of the stiffs.” And, without hesitating a moment longer, they stripped off their shirt, showing off the toned planes of their flat chest. They weren’t entirely naked on the upper torso, however; they left the bondage harness in place. It was attractively strapped and made them look particularly tough, like a gunslinger who had yet to find the perfect gun. They folded their shirt twice over and handed it to the Shadow. “Use it,” they said.

  A nod. A smile. “Thank you. Come here and lay down,” He said to Henry, who walked Mattias’s body over to the metal bed and, with Shadow’s help, climbed up obediently. He winced as flesh touched metal. “God, it’s cold.”

  “Stiffs don’t care,” Emile said. They were dancing from foot to foot, not as if cold but energized. “They’re stiffs.”

  “I need Mattias ascendent for this, Henry,” Shadow said, ignoring Emile completely. As Henry settled into his lover’s shirt, Shadow placed his violet hands on the other man’s temples. Closed eyes. Dropped head. And suddenly Mattias’s entire body stiffened, teeth clenched, eyes wide and wild and sightless. He shuddered twice, his back arching against the stress in his mind. And then he collapsed back against the table, and Hawk could see Mattias’s presence in every long and lean line.

  “There you are, my friend,” Mattias said. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed you.”

  “This ordeal is nearly over,” Shadow said. “I need you to focus on yourself. On who and what you are. Keep yourself firmly in mind. It will help me keep you separate from Henry. I’ll be able to tell which parts of your…well, soul, for lack of a better word—is active and which parts are dormant.”

  And then there was a long silence throughout the room. Shadow stared down, hands on Mattias’s temples still, and focused. Mattias closed his eyes and seemed nearly as stiff with Shadow’s orders as he’d been with his own seizures. After half a moment, he said, “It is hard to define yourself with thought, is it not?”

  “Hush,” Shadow said. “You’re doing beautifully.”

  Then he drew his hands back, and something came with the gesture. It was thin as air, but radiant. Every color seemed to filter through it, snatches of rainbow light. The mind as a full spectrum. Shadow twisted his hands together, bringing these trails of light into the same space as if he were winding thread into a ball. “Yes, my friend. Think of yourself. Your childhood. Your own memories. Be firm in who you are. Define your bounds and hold that ground, no matter who asks you to lower your walls.”

  He held the ball of essential stuff—of Henry, if Hawk were pressed—and walked two steps back from Mattias’s body. The ball of soul-stuff followed, the connection to Mattias growing narrower, thinning like a drop of milk in turbulent water. Then, suddenly, Mattias gave a sigh. “Oh god,” he whispered. It’s gone.”

  “It’s here,” Shadow whispered. He looked to Emile. “There is a vial with a small object within on the table there. Yes, that’s it. That is the fragment of my own Orb. I need you to turn to Henry and place it in his mouth. It’s not enough to transform him, and he won’t eat it. But it will begin healing him nearly immediately. Yes.” He watched as Emile found the object in question, the thin sliver of Orb, held up to the light. Quickly, they moved to place it in Henry’s mouth. For all their resistance earlier, they had no problem manipulating the cold, dead flesh they had loved. Soon the fragment rested inside the dead mouth, and when Shadow said, “Now stand back. Stand far back,” They were the first to obey.

  Shadow did not immediately bring the ball of soul-stuff down to the dead body, however. He stood back, watching and waiting.

  “What now?” Emile said.

  And before Shadow could even answer, the dead body began to shake.