“Shh, do you hear that? A sort of squeaking?”

My heart sank when I saw the cardboard box on the side of the bin. We could barely make out the crooked, gnarled lettering that read ‘Please shelter the kittens’. We rushed to the source of the squeaking, tiny furry bodies huddled together at the bottom of the tattered shelter. Only two were alive.

“Let's take them, please?” I looked pleadingly at Lias, who looked at the barely breathing, dirty lumps with regret.

“I'm allergic to animals. You can't take them,” Grant was adamant.

“What? We're just gonna leave them here?”

I couldn't believe Circul Junior was so cruel. How could a man abandon poor kittens out in the open?

“Are your allergies so dangerous? Could you die?” I glared at the disgruntled guy, wishing for the first time in my life that I had the power to affect his emotions. I wished I could use his magic right now.

“No.”

Then why did he refuse?

I grabbed the box, sat down in the bushes, ignoring the thorns and bugs, and declared, “I'm not moving until we get these kittens.”

The bodyguard winked at me and smiled. Completely on my side. I had to get Grant, who was frowning at me with black, narrowed eyes and silent anger.

“Dav had a prediction,” said he.

“And?” I raised an eyebrow, searching for logic.

“It was about you. Dav said you'd cry over these kittens.”

Circul's voice seemed serious, but why did his words make me laugh? What did he care about my tears?

“Gra-a-ant,” I begged, “can I promise not to cry? Then can I take them?”

The guy sighed, still annoyed by my plea. For a moment, the crazy thought of running away from the Circuls before the contract was finished crossed my mind. I'd find a home for the kittens before I left the world anyway.

“Okay,” he suddenly changed his mind and took the box from me. I just had to hope he didn't throw the foundlings out on the street while I was distracted.

We decided to take the kittens to Gisborne because he had a degree in zoology.

“The main thing is not to show them to Barg,” Kai greeted us at the door. You have your dinner first and I'll take them to Grandpa.”

I had no appetite for food. I chewed two sandwiches dry and jumped up, leaving Grant alone in the dining room. Grandfather Asanor was in the living room, feeding a shivering grey lump from a bottle with Kai. The second surviving kitten, a black one, slept sweetly on his back with its front paws outstretched.

“That's a boy,” the older man nodded at the sleeping one. “This little girl looks like she has rhinotracheitis.”

I looked at the girl, she was barely eating, her head tilted to one side. Her blue eyes were clogged with pus and she was breathing heavily, coughing every five minutes, which made my heart ache. But remembering the promise I had made to Grant, who had followed me almost immediately, I held back the tears.

“I'm afraid magic won't help,” Gisborne shook his head at Circul Junior's suggestion of calling a vet with healing magic. “She's too weak and any intervention will only make her worse. Either she'll recover on her own, or...”

We hoped for the best. We entrusted the president's son to look after the black cat while we looked after the girl.

It was only in the middle of the night that the elder Asanor and I decided to leave the sick, unhappy furballs and at least get some sleep. Kai agreed to look after the kittens, settled down in the living room and kept a close eye on their condition.

“Finally in a warm, soft bed...” Circul exhaled happily as we reached the guest wing where we usually slept when we stayed in his grandfather's penthouse.

I froze at the open door, remembering that Gisborne had allowed me to use the other guest quarters. “From now on I'll sleep separately.”

“What?” Grant didn't realise what I had said at first, but the smile fell from his lips as he looked at my face.

“I want a separate bedroom.”

“Why?” The young man frowned.

“Don't you get it? Everyone in presidential circles already thinks we're a real couple…”

“Isn't that so?” Instead of the extinguished smile, a perpetual mocking grin crept across his face. Circul Junior looked at me defiantly – was he testing my patience?

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“We're not bomb-bound now,” I said, walking into our shared bedroom. I picked up my favourite pillow from the bed, turned around and grinned wickedly. “Now I can't stop myself from smothering you in your sleep for all your naughty pranks and bad temper.”

“You could have done it a long time ago.”

“I could have. But then the damn bomb would have been activated, and half the city would have gone to hell with us.”

I was about to leave the room, but he blocked my way.

“And yet I insist that we sleep in the same bed,” Circul said, looking me straight in the eye.

“I insist otherwise! Stand back.”

I punched the guy in the side, but he just pushed me harder against the doorjamb.

“I don't want to. If I let you go, I'll have nightmares again,” said Grant.

I snorted, trying to suppress a feeling of pity and slight admiration. The young man seemed so innocent and vulnerable now.

I would have believed that truth, but my mind kept telling me to stay away from the cause of my heart's malfunction. The stupid organ had been beating itself to death for the past twenty-four hours whenever the president's son stared at me, or stood close to me. Unacceptably close.

“Grant, I'm serious. Let me pass. I... I feel uncomfortable with you.”

I tried to conjure up the emotion that would make him let me go. The first thought of what would happen to him when he heard of his father's death was painful.

Everything inside me was turned upside down, shattered, as the image came before me: a lost and devastated Grant, who had lost not only his mother but also his father, who had done terrible things but whom he loved immensely. My fictional fiancé truly loved and respected Rizor; he would never forgive me for killing him.

My heart clenched at the thought – anger and resentment would fill the younger Circul. He wouldn't be able to forgive me, he wouldn't understand. His hatred and vengeance will be my reward for my crime. I've come to know the president's son well over the past few weeks; he will stop at nothing in his quest for revenge.

And by the time he started hunting, I would have to be far away. So far away that not even the gods could find me. So that not even fate could prevent me from reaching my final goal, oblivion in death.

And I'd rather Grant didn't find me then. To take revenge. I didn't want the hands of the only real person I cared about stained with blood.

I had to kill myself as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't have time to cross the line beyond which only eternal torture in the flames of the inferno would follow.

My imagination painted the result that awaited us at the end of the road. I had known it for a long time, accepted it long ago and got used to the sad end. But why did it hurt so much?

I exhaled and came to my senses. Circul was studying my emotions intently. He was tense, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. His dark eyes glittered with confusion, as if he couldn't understand why I was so bitter and alienated.

“I want to be alone,” I said, almost in a whisper, because I didn't have the strength left to fight Grant and my heart.

The young man's eyes flashed with disappointment and a sadness that cut the edges of the last few happy hours. His fingers on my shoulder trembled, but didn't let go completely.

“Please,” I said with the last of my strength. Closed my eyes to keep from crying.

There was a soft sigh above my head. His hands slipped away, sending shivers down my spine. It smelled of cold and repressed emotions.

“Go.”

I opened my eyes before he could turn away. I saw the shadow on his face.

All I wanted to do was escape, so I sprinted out the door and made it to my new bedroom in a matter of moments.

I wanted to get rid of myself. I hated being alone with myself. I hated being me. I hadn't seen Grant so depressed in a long time. It made my heart ache all the more, and I blamed myself for my misfortune and unhappy fate.

I wanted to speed up the passage of time, to bring the hour of reckoning closer. I wanted to fulfil my part of the contract and leave, scattering with my last breath the memories of the bomb, the president, his son, doubts and wrong feelings.

I wanted to speed things up, to ask for time, for the Hour to come. And I wanted to stop it.

To stop my sad story, the end of which I already knew. Could I have replayed it?

Yes.

And knowing that only made it worse. I could have. But I never would have. The one thing I'd always liked about myself was determination. Now I hated myself for it.

Because I knew I wouldn't change my promise. Because there was no other feeling that could drive the hatred and bitterness of loss from my heart. Because I could still see the smiles of my friends, my family, Krile and baby Di.

Because I swore.

And if I don't get my revenge, I won't find peace in the next life. Yes, my fingers will be stained with blood, my soul will be stained with murder, but it cannot be otherwise.

You can't escape the last wish. Such is our false and imperfect world. There is no escape from the blade of retribution, whether it is thrust into your heart or heavy in your hand. Once it appears, it will drag you down forever, and even if it doesn't materialise in this world, it will reach you in the next. I understood Dav better than anyone. His revenge tormented him, tore him apart, prevented him from meeting his beloved.

A cruel feeling. A cruel world.

But what depressed me most was the thought that I wasn't the only one suffering from this cursed desire. I couldn't bear to see the young man I had become so close to suffer.

I clutched the pillow helplessly, holding back the tears. The moon drew a white line across the blanket through the open curtains, its light caressing the skin of my arm. I was glad to see it, a silent witness to my mental suffering. Absurdly funny, but its presence made me feel less lonely. Not so uncomfortable. I was alone for the first time in weeks. No one was nagging me, or sniffing in my ear, or tossing and turning, or draping a blanket over me.

I buried my nose in my pillow, squeezed my eyes shut and whispered bitterly, “I'm sorry, Grant.”

I'm sorry.

× × Death’s desire × ×

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P.S. The world where this takes place is called Ejv. Remember Siri's conversation with Dav about the four lives? It's been mentioned before, but I'll remind you.

If you want to meet your loved one in the next reincarnation, you have to live your life without regrets. But! If you have a last wish (for example, revenge, if your loved one died because of someone else's fault), you will not be able to meet him/her, you may not even get into the next reincarnation.

Why is that? The gods made a mistake when they created the world (official version). Well, actually they didn't mess up, there's a whole story there, but that's for another time.

P.P.S. How do people find out the number of their lives? They go to a magician with a special gift who can see their past lives. Grant's third life is harvest time.

Siri doesn't know. She doesn't care. Either way, whether she dies forever or is reborn in the next life, death is, she believes, liberation.