The Tales and Tellings of Hallows' Grove (MLM)

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

                Edward did not speak for a long time.

"Are you nauseous?" Henry asked. "D'you need a lemonade?"

"No beverages in the library!" Mr. Cross snapped and returned to his typewriter.

Henry hesitated before he gripped Edward's shoulder, letting his hand slowly rise to the side of Edward's neck. Finally, Edward exhaled slowly, shakily.

"I'm a ghost," he said hoarsely, "talking to a witch. What does a few hundred years matter now?"

His smile was weak, but he closed his eyes and leaned into Henry's touch, gripping Henry's waist with trembling hands. "I'm very tired, Henry."

"We know why we're able to touch," Henry said. "We can stop now, if you'd like."

Edward shook his head. "I need to know what killed me. I need to know what led me to you."

Henry brushed his thumb across Edward's jaw, and Mr. Cross tsked behind them.

"Making all the foolish decisions this fall, are you, Henry?"

"Mr. Cross," said Henry, his eyes on Edward, "you've been so much help."

"God knows what I've helped cause," Mr. Cross muttered. Before they left, Mr. Cross called Henry. In his shadowed desk, the one lantern turning his black eyes to beads of gold, he looked like a solemn judge.

"For the sake of your grandfather and my friend, I urge you to take heed, Henry," he said. "Stupid people do stupid things, and while I detest stupid people, I don't wish to see you harmed. Don't forget Hugh. You are not invincible."

The drive back to the shop was very quiet and cold. Edward sat in the passenger seat, and Henry could already predict the question on his tongue. Finally, he could not seem to keep it.

"Who's Hugh?"

His voice was quiet. He knew it was a dangerous question.

"My older brother," Henry sighed. "Fell in love with a woman, had a child. They both died, he did not. He couldn't take it, and destroyed himself with his powers."

"Henry, I—I'm so sorry." He sounded it. It brought a gentle smile to Henry's lips.

"It was a long time ago," he said. "Early 1800s, in fact. I myself didn't know whether I would survive as long as I have. I kept waiting for the anguish that overcame him, and which occasionally overcomes Charlie, to overcome me. But it's 1997, and here I am. I suppose I'm broken in that way."

"You're not broken!" Edward argued angrily. "You're kinder than you want to admit, and you're frighteningly intelligent, and assuring, and so, so wonderful!"

Henry raised a brow. A smile tugged at his lips. "You seem very passionate about this."

"I'm passionate about you!" he snapped. "Why do you shrug off people's glares at you? Why do you let them speak to you so cruelly?"

"What would you suggest I do?" Henry turned his signal on and turned a corner. "Turn them into toads?"

"If that's what it takes!" Henry laughed, and Edward gripped his arm. "I'm scared for you. Mr. Cross was right, you're too reckless."