You come out of that sort of dark and you know you're done. You're dead, or you've brought the Underworld to you-and there's not a lot of difference between the two states.
Lissa's looking at me, her gaze heavy with something-pain maybe, or relief. We're in the tower. Only we're not. We've made it through to the fringes of the Underworld. I can feel it, not just in the silence, because there is no storm on this side, but in my flesh, just as I do when I'm at the office, only this is purer, darker and more terrible.
"I'm-" That's all I manage, my body is startling me. It's not how I remember it: except it is. The wounds are gone.
And there is no blood. Anywhere. Not a single drop of it within the curved space of the tower. I open my hand and there is the shirt so, yeah, there is some blood. The material is dark and dry with it. I fold it up and put it in my pocket. My backpack is next to me. I grab another shirt and slip it on.
I'm whole, and hale, except the cherub tattoo on my biceps is burning, as though it has only just been inked. I ignore it. Quite frankly I've experienced much worse in the last few days. The air, too, is fresh. No cat or drunk has ever marked this place.
"You did good," Lissa says. "For a moment… I thought you did too good."
And I want to kiss her. Her lips lack their usual blue-tinged pallor. In fact, her cheeks are flushed. There's not even a moment's hesitation. It's the only time I'll ever get the chance. I reach over and I touch her face, and it's warm against my fingers.
"Jesus," I say, and I can feel the pupils of my eyes expanding so fast they hurt.
"Here," she says, "in this place, we can touch. Here, we're the same." She holds my hand against her face. That contact of warm skin against warm skin is electric, and her beautiful eyes are wide. "But I don't know for how long. Steve, I can feel the One Tree calling me. I've denied it for so long."
I pull her to me, hardly hearing her.