Something in her would not quit that night.
Era was used to being told no. No, you can't do this because of your condition. No, you're not qualified to do that. No, we don't have the resources. Despite the old book that once came through Mason's library testifying to the power of yes, life seemed to be full of the word “no.”
The night she woke outside on a plastic mat, wrapped in a smoke-scented blanket and with the fires still burning in half the Habitat, but Era would not give up on finding Devlin. She couldn't rest until someone agreed to search for him.
By the time the streak of flame fell just down the road from the Habitats, Mason and three others from the supply team were already dressed to venture out into the freezing night. Leaving Era to sit with the ashes of what they'd salvaged, worrying that they'd lost one more irreplaceable thing.
The people of the Habitats would rebuild. Maybe it wouldn't be as good as before, but they'd adapt. They always did. But something told her she could not adapt to losing Devlin. To losing someone else again.
She thought of that fear as she and Devlin now shuffled through the ice-encrusted snow, shoulder to shoulder, saying nothing as they circled the man-made lake with twin walking sticks. She thought of it when, noticing the chatter of her teeth, Devlin removed the patchwork cloak he'd been given and put it over Era's shoulders. Mason said Devlin's clothes were in burned tatters when they found him, yet he wasn't frostbitten at all.
“I don't mind the cold,” Devlin assured her when she tried to return his cloak, his voice still breathy and, she had to admit, even more alluring than before. “I don't even feel it.”
She furrowed her brow at that but did not ask him how or why. Mason had already warned her Devlin had something to tell her.
Would she be ready to hear what he had to say?
Was she ready to admit that everything she'd seen the night of the fire had really happened?
Era's new walking stick—little more than a rough branch for now—thunked along beside them, saving her from slipping on all the ice as her heart rate climbed in anticipation. The fires left a glaze over everything as the temperatures dropped and the melted snow re-froze. It had been a treacherous week, with plenty of slipping and sliding as they raced to rebuild, and it had left her woozy and exhausted.
She yawned loudly. Earlier this morning, a team from the Old Market settlement had arrived to help. Their aid didn't come free; nothing did during the dark days of winter. Once the Habitats were secure, its people would return the favor, helping with repairs or supply runs for the Old Market.
Era was even going to get her chance to design a building on her own. After seeing the repurposed habitat she brought Devlin towards now, the Old Market team requested her specifically.
A soft smile on her face, she urged Devlin to turn in that building's direction. When he raised his head, his eyes briefly met hers before skipping away onto the building. She wondered what he thought of it, half rough-hewn boards and tarps and half original construction. Three of the glass panels at the front were still intact.
“It looks untouched,” he said slowly. “By the fires, I mean.”
“Ciril probably didn't know it was worth anything.” Era raised her chin, allowing a touch of pride to creep in. “This was the first project I tackled on my own. It needed a lot of work—I mean a lot. My dad was still alive then, but he told me I was responsible for it. He wanted to test my capabilities. Or maybe to give me the confidence to go on after he had to leave us, I don't know. I always think he must've known he was sick back then.”
Devlin's gaze stayed resolutely ahead. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned their fathers. She still didn't know what had happened to his, or how and why Ciril had done what he did, just that he was gone.
She hitched up a shoulder. “Anyway, this project was mine, and it slept more than thirty people last night. No one wanted to light the stove after what happened, but we got it going early this morning, and it's all working fine. The lights aren't usable, but it's warmer in there than the gathering house was with its generators.”
He still wouldn't meet her eye.
“Devlin—”
“We're phoenixes,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the patched-up habitat. His gaze followed the gentle twirl of smoke up from the metal flume. “What you saw—when you saw my father, you weren't hallucinating. We're the last immortals, more or less.
“The true immortals died when the planet nearly did. They gave their lives to save what was left. And in return, they asked us to rid the world of humans. At least, that's what my father said they wanted. I don't really know what's true. He hated humans so much, I'm not sure I believe anything he ever told me now.”
Era's jaw loosened, though her lips remained tightly sealed. She hadn't wanted to think about it: Ciril cornering her and Mason in the library; the way her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. And then the smoke as Ciril burst into that—that beast. The creature that should have been beautiful but was terrifying instead. Somehow, even before he soldered the door shut, she knew it was going to be their end.
But it hadn't been. Despite the odds, they'd survived. Because of Devlin.
Because of a phoenix.
“Your father…?” she began, her voice carrying the question.
“Gone. We're safe from him. For a good while, anyway.”
After a silence stretched between them for too long, Era said, “So. I take it you were the mutant turkey.”
Devlin cocked a brow. “I prefer ice phoenix.”
As her laughter bubbled up, it sounded strange to her. Like it should've belonged to someone else. Era couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this way. In that moment, she felt acceptance settle into her being; acceptance of the loss they'd suffered, of the pain, of the supernatural. Acceptance of Devlin, too.
If I can laugh in the ashes of everything I know with him, I guess he's alright. She corrected herself, He's more than alright.
Era looked up and found his lips close to hers. His hands curled around the patches on the borrowed cloak. “I don't want to hate anyone anymore,” Devlin said as if pleading, his cold breath entwining with her own. “I don't want to be like him.”
She gazed up at his eyes, dark and unreadable as ever.
“You're not your father,” Era replied, her voice gentle. “You can choose to be different, Dev. You can help us rebuild what Ciril burned down.”
His eyes widened. “You think the others will let me stay?”
“The others don't know it was Ciril who did this. Mason started a rumor that he died in the fire.” Her heart squeezed. “What did happen to him?”
“He returned to ash,” Devlin said, his words more a cloud of breath than actual sound. “He chose to burn up.”
At first, Era didn't know what to ask. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he didn't want to let me go. He wanted me to keep on hating humans like he did. He wanted me to be like him.”
The clink and clamber of her fellow keepers sorting scrap metal reached her ears as the silence between them returned.
“Mason and I won't tell anyone what you are. Unless…?” She let the unspoken question hang in the frosty air.
Devlin's shook his head fervently. “They won't understand. They'll be afraid.”
“What's to be afraid of?” Era's forehead wrinkled slightly. Extending one finger, she poked him in the chest. “You saved us.”
“As much as I'd love to stop hiding, I don't think humans are ready to learn about the immortals,” Devlin said, his expression softening along with his voice. “Maybe someday. Just—not now.”
Sad as it was, Era knew he was probably right. She'd keep his secret for as long as he needed her to. For once, Era was certain she wouldn't let this one slip.
Acknowledging someone else was right and vowing to keep a secret she actually meant to? Maybe Era was growing up after all. She let her eyes drift down to where Devlin's collarbone peaked out through the neck of his shirt.
“You deserve a fresh start,” she declared. “And actually, I wanted to ask you—”
His lips pressed against hers so lightly then, so soft, it was like the brush of falling snow. Era's gaze snapped up to his. When she found his eyes closed, she let her own follow suit, even as her hands made their way to the tops of his shoulders, then the back of his neck. Their lips parted and met again, the kiss deepening.
For just a moment, she forgot how much work lay ahead. For once, all her problems felt just a bit smaller.
When at last his mouth drew away from hers, a soft, hopeful smile touched his lips. She liked that smile. She wanted to see a lot more of it.
“As I was saying,” Era said with a nervous titter. His smile instantly broadened, flashing his teeth. “I was going to ask if you wanted to help me rebuild the library.”
Devlin cocked a brow, his face suddenly so much more expressive. As if he was unwinding—no, thawing. “The library first?”
“The stove is still mostly intact. Since our fuel went up in flames along with the generators, it's our best bet to make it till spring. The books that survived are going to be moved to a central library for all of the West Side settlements to share—and maybe the East Side settlements will want to get involved, too. Mason's already thinking ahead, dreaming up a school, if you can believe that.”
Era let out a sigh. “But first we fix up our library building. And after that—”
Normally, Era didn't like being interrupted. But she found herself swept up in a kiss once again, and she didn't mind it. Not even slightly.
Especially when the kiss held so much joy.
“Yes,” Devlin said as they separated, his whole face lighting up. “I want to help. I-I want to stay with you.”
Despite the bitter cold, Era found herself warming.
* * *
Devlin
“We're going to be just fine,” Era said, seizing his bare hand with her gloved one, her cheeks even pinker after their last kiss. “I know it.”
Devlin squeezed her hand back. He'd never believed anything more.