I can't breathe.

Everything's going fine. The attack on Fort Aubert was a success. Jorge and the guys did well while I was wasting my time on ghosts from my past. We have the code, and the next step is the vaccine itself.

Pavlov was unusually understanding, too. He didn't have any questions about the unexpected difficulties in our way. He trusts me. A little too much, and I have no idea why. It's not like him.

And, last but not least, tonight's Miss Scream Queen was unusually silent. She kinda passed out in the process. It seems like a good tactic. They can't scream while being half-unconscious, now can they? They can only moan. Which is much less annoying, I must say. Way to go.

So, everything's going fine. With one slight exception.

That I can't breathe.

It's 3 AM, and I feel like I'm dissolving into the night. Into an endless, empty darkness.

It's not only empty, it's silent, too. Gabriel always said that she was the voice in the darkness, and now she's not there. Only me and the darkness. Me in the darkness. Me, the darkness.

It's worse than when I believed her to be dead. There is a subtle difference between being left and being discarded, as it seems. And it's also worse than being dead, probably, so I don't resist the suffocating feeling anymore. I allow it to engulf me.

Strangely, stopping to fight it makes my panic better. But, at the same time, it makes the pain worse.

I really should try harder to forget her fucking Credo, instead of repeating it, again and again, letting my mind stumble on the worst part each time.

I look after those who are mine.

Well, that's not me. Not anymore.

I tell myself that I don't care. I tell myself that the person who said these words never existed. I tell myself that she only cared about my safety, because it's her mania, never about me.

Nothing helps. Thinking about her, sitting on the edge of my bed does.

I grunt, and I turn around. I wish I could fall asleep just once without her help. Or, at least, I wish my brain would choose a less humiliating fantasy to calm me down. I grunt again, and I bury my face in my pillow.

She's sitting on the edge of my bed again. It's a very small bed, I need to curl my legs up so that I fit. She puts her hand on my forehead. You have a fever, Mint, she says. Are you feeling okay? No, I'm not, I answer. Just sleep, she instructs me, caressing my face. I will stay here until you get better.

My last conscious thought before falling asleep is a promise. I swear to myself that it was the last time I allowed my mind to wander without control, to places I never wanted to visit. Starting from tomorrow, I'll only think about normal, mercenary lord-compatible things. If it must be Gabriel, she'll be writhing under me, at least, begging me to go harder and faster. Period.

In the morning, I sleep in. Jorge needs to wake me up.

"Morning, boss. We have an attack to plan."

"Of course," I mumble, trying to sit up and failing with it.

"Come on, boss," Jorge grunts. "This is not you. What did you take?"

"Nothing. I just can't sleep very well."

"I noticed," Jorge says, giving me the side-eye. "You behave as if you've been possessed by the spirit of desperation lately."

"It's a ghost, rather."

"You can't afford to be visited by ghosts either," he reminds me. "The very second you're not showing power, it's over for you."

"Why the fuck are you telling me this? Why don't you try to take my place just like any normal second in command would?"

"You don't go against a death demon, even if he looks half-dead at the moment, boss. It's common sense."

I nod as if it's understood. Jorge is still not finished, though.

"But your ghost must be gone, boss. You're feared all over the world, but, you know, the game is still called the survival of the fittest. Why don't you let your women stay for the night, huh? They are capable and willing. They'd keep your ghosts away. A soft, warm body sleeping by your side serves best that purpose."

I can't help but shudder.

"I prefer to be alone. I can't sleep with a woman being around. I've never been able."

"Why not?" He grimaces. "Did a lady try to murder you in your sleep?"

"Well, yes. More than once. But it's not that. It's just too much skin, and too much touching, and hugging, and breathing... it's simply not for me."

"Okay." He shrugs. "And what about men?"

"What men?"

"Men. You know. Like you and me."

I can't follow.

"Men," I repeat tentatively. "Real men sleep like a log and aren't haunted at night. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I mean, what about sleeping with men?" he asks.

"Men?" I repeat, for the third time.

"You never told me you were into men too," he bursts out. "Is it because you thought that I would hit on you, or what?"

"No." I huff, spreading my hands. "It's because I'm not."

"Who is Gabriel? You yelled about him in your sleep!"

I stare at him with my mouth agape. I wasn't prepared for this. Luckily, Jorge misinterprets my expression and solves the situation without needing my input, bless him.

"I'm sorry, boss," he apologizes. "I know I overstepped the mark here, but you really could trust me more."

I keep staring at him. My brain needs some time to reboot.

"Okay, it's not my business, obviously," he says, looking mortified. "I'm a bit too nosy today, but it won't happen again, boss. I promise."

"Um..." I declare. I'm still looking for the right words to express myself in a more or less coherent way. Jorge takes a step back as if he got himself prepared to run. I should stop glaring at him like this before he shits himself.

"I'll watch my tongue, alright?" he assures me, taking another step backward. "Sorry, boss. Very, very sorry."

"Gabriel is a woman," I inform him before he flees screaming.

"Oh. I see. Nice nickname, boss."

His smile of relief is almost comically wide.

"And, believe me," he goes on rambling, "I'd never look at you in an inappropriate way, even if you were into men. You're the boss, after all, right? You might be the best looking man I've ever met, but I'd never do that."

I stare at him again. No use, this time.

"I bet this Gabriel is your type, huh?" He grins. "Beautiful, strong, and witty."

"Not at all. She's small, weak, and ugly. I wouldn't call her witty either. She's overly brainy, rather."

"Aw. So it's serious, huh?"

"What?!" I snap.

"You have access to all the women in the world. So, logically, there's only one reason to be with someone who's nothing like the women you usually choose. It's—"

"I'm not with her, alright?" I interrupt him. "She's just a ghost. The spirit of desperation. Or something even more dangerous than that. Something even your grandma couldn't come up with a cure for."

My outburst scares him again. Sometimes I wish I wasn't a death demon.

"But I won't let her distract me again," I announce to Jorge. "It's not even necessary to kill her. It's enough to sever all ties. I can do that. She never existed, anyway. She told me that herself."

I see that Jorge crosses himself when I turn away from him. Now he's convinced that Gabriel is a ghost, literally.

I refuse to go into unnecessary details.

One, he's right. To me, she is. Two, we have an attack to plan.

Nothing and no one can stop me now.