Dante opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.
He blinked several times. Something was strange—his vision didn't seem to work as usual. What the hell had happened? It was unbelievably hard to form a clear thought. Everything felt distant and muffled, as if wrapped in cotton.
The sounds reaching his ear were dull, the light far too harsh. No matter how hard he tried to focus, his sight wouldn't improve. For some reason he could only see with his left eye. The right one revealed nothing but darkness.
The tingling behind his right eye was unpleasant. It felt like tiny spiders crawling around. Spiders. Dante grimaced at the thought of the man who shared his name with those little insects. He wanted to scratch that maddening itch, but the sensation ran so deep that he couldn't reach it anyway.
Dante waited until the tingling subsided. The numbness receded, and his right eye slowly began to make out shapes again. The memories of what had happened came back to him, bit by bit.
He had fought—and obviously lost. But whom had he been fighting? Dante pushed himself upright and looked around the room. He was in a thoroughly wrecked office where several people must have worked. Blood was everywhere. Doors hung crooked on their hinges; papers were scattered, and filing cabinets badly damaged. Tables and chairs lay overturned—the fight must have been fierce.
Odd.
The longer he sat there taking in the chaos, the more he remembered: he had fought an Assassin. Belladonna. He had promised Helios he would catch that madman.
He squeezed his left eye shut as a test. His right eye was just beginning to regain enough function to make out contours. It was taking far too long to recover—this bastard must have destroyed more tissue than expected.
Shit…
Dante leapt to his feet. He scanned the room again, but there was no sign of the crazed Assassin. That could only mean Helios was alone with him now.
Damn—that wasn't good. How much time had he wasted? Seconds? Minutes? His sense of time was as shattered as his skull. He'd lost precious moments. He couldn't even remember how long he'd sat there on the floor. His brain must have taken serious damage if he couldn't think clearly.
He'd been too slow.
Anger flared as he clenched his teeth. He'd barely managed to hit Belladonna. Their fighting styles were just too different and he couldn't match Belladonna for speed. He hadn't even considered pulling his gun; he wouldn't have been able to hit him anyway. The Assassin never would have given him the chance.
Dante checked his pockets. His trusty standard equipment—two knives and his pistol—were still there. At least Belladonna hadn't deemed it necessary to strip everything from his dead body. He still had a chance to catch him unawares.
He set out, careful not to make a sound. He would have to take Belladonna by surprise. If he was noticed, he wouldn't be able to protect Helios and their plan would fail. Dante didn't even want to imagine what would happen if Belladonna emerged victorious from this.
The corridor lay silent before him. Far too silent. Dante was deeply concerned for Helios. Helios wasn't blessed with strength, and it wasn't the first time Dante had worried about the young pharmacist's safety. How many times had he feared something terrible had happened to him? And how many times had he been proven wrong?
But this time was different.
If Helios hadn't managed to hide from Belladonna in time, he was most likely dead.
And if Helios died, there would probably never be a cure for Dante's immortality…
There was no sound, and the damned silence only made Dante's inner turmoil worse. He didn't even know where the accountant's office was, so he followed the direction Helios had taken earlier—until he spotted a knife embedded in the wall. Its blade gleamed dully in the dim light, and beneath it ran a thin trail of dried blood.
Right… Belladonna had thrown a knife at Helios when they began to fight.
So Belladonna had hit him. The realization made Dante's unease swell, as if something were gradually squeezing his chest.
Damn it!
He had to find him quickly. Dante looked down and saw a trail of small blood drops. At least this would lead him the right way. Silently, he followed the trail past several locked office doors until he reached a corridor lined with single‐occupant offices.
Here the blood drops ended. So Helios had at least made it this far.
He had to keep going. Helios had to be around here somewhere—he just had to fi—
"AAAAAAH!!!"
…he was abruptly ripped from his thoughts by an earsplitting scream. It was so full of pain it cut him to the bone.
Helios!
Dante quickened his pace, his heart pounding so loudly he feared Belladonna would hear it and come at him first. He still tried to make no noise. Ignorance gnawed at his nerves as the scream died away. Was he dead? Had Belladonna really killed him, even though Dante had been so close to reaching Helios?
It couldn't end like this. He had to still be alive!
A laugh sounded—first softly, then growing louder and louder. It was calm and collected, as if whoever laughed held the upper hand. And it sounded uncannily like Helios. Before Dante's inner eye flashed the image of Helios in that room where he had found him in the underground complex.
Dante shook his head.
No, this time it was definitely not him! After all, Helios had no chance against Belladonna. Especially not after he'd killed Dante. There was absolutely no way it was a triumphant Helios!
The laughter stopped abruptly. A ragged moan followed, then a faint gurgle.
"…lose patience," Belladonna murmured in an irritated voice. Dante crept as silently as he could to the slightly ajar door. From inside the office came Belladonna's calm but ice-cold tone: "Actually, it doesn't matter. I'll find out who sent you—dead or alive. Maybe I'll just take your heads with me and see where they lead. How's that sound?"
"Stupid idea. Everyone knows my face…" Helios coughed. "…it's surprising you don't know who I am…"
Hearing Helios speak both eased and alarmed him. Why did he sound so weak? What had that bastard done to him?! Dante had to get him out of there—now. He had only this one chance, this element of surprise. He peered into the room: Helios was tied to a chair, hidden behind Belladonna, who had his back to Dante.
But he was still alive—and that was all that mattered to Dante in that moment.
Perfect!
As Belladonna grabbed Helios's hair and pressed his knife to his throat, Dante drew his two combat knives. He preferred hand-to-hand, but he'd admit defeat if that's what he suffered. With bare hands, he could do nothing against Belladonna.
He was allowed to wound him, after all, because the immortality serum would heal all his injuries—if it worked, of course.
"Well, it depends on the effort, doesn't it? Don't worry—I'll dispose of your pretty head when it starts to smell," Belladonna said.
Dante could only hope Belladonna didn't hear him. But as Dante stood directly behind him, he suddenly couldn't move. He stared down at Helios, who looked at him dully—pale and, damn, was all that blood his own?!
Helios smiled faintly, barely conscious.
No…this really wasn't happening…he must be imagining it. Time seemed to stand completely still.
"I love you…" Helios whispered so softly you could barely hear him.
His eyes fluttered shut, and he slumped into Belladonna's grasp.
"What?" Belladonna asked, confused.
And that was the moment Dante struck. He plunged both knives at once into Belladonna's throat. He didn't think about what he was doing—it was as if his brain had short-circuited and all thought had vanished.
Helios died.
Belladonna had wounded him so gravely that he couldn't survive. A wet, gurgling sound escaped Belladonna's lips, but Dante had no time for that bastard. His eyes stayed locked on Helios and the blood that dripped unceasingly to the floor.
Without Helios, everything was hopeless.
"Helios! You have to stay with me!" Dante shouted desperately.
He shoved Belladonna aside and heard the body hit the ground. Distant gurgles reached his ear, but he didn't care what happened to Belladonna—no one survived two knives through the throat. Dante didn't need to be a doctor to know that.
He sank down before Helios, kneeling so close that he knelt in his blood. It was warm and sticky… but Dante couldn't have cared less. His gaze fixed on Helios's pale, strained face, his head flopped powerless against Dante's chest.
Damn, what was he supposed to do now?!
With trembling hands, Dante cradled Helios's face—surely he wasn't already gone? Gently, he brushed his thumb across Helios's cheek.
"Helios. Hey… please wake up."
"You… are too late…" Helios whispered. His eyes stayed shut.
Blood dripped from his lips. A painful weight pressed on Dante's chest.
"I know… damn it, I know!" Dante cursed, frantic. He had to save him somehow. "Wait—I'll get you free!"
He began to work at the bindings, then crawled over to Belladonna's lifeless form, pulled one knife free from the corpse's throat, and sliced through Helios's restraints. Something fell to the floor. Dante looked down and stared at it for a moment. Was that… a finger…?
"Dante…" Helios whispered weakly.
What had Belladonna done?! Why had it taken so long for Dante to recover? Guilt pressed down on him like a boulder. He bit his lower lip; his eyes burned.
"Don't talk—just hold on! I'll get you out of here!" Dante promised.
He would do anything to save Helios. He cut through the rest of the cloth binding him.
"Look… at me…" Helios breathed. Dante almost couldn't bring himself to meet the young man's gaze. He was slipping away—blood still pooled beneath them.
Time was slipping away.
So he forced himself to grant Helios's perhaps final wish. He placed his hand under Helios's chin and gently lifted his head. Helios looked at him with a distant gaze—there was barely any life left in him.
It was over. All was over.
"Helios…" he whispered, choking on the words.
Helios clutched Dante's forearm and pulled himself close until their foreheads met. Dante let it happen. He was not omnipotent, nor did he possess Helios's abilities.
There was nothing he could do to save him.
Helios's breathing was labored. Dante stared into his green eyes, which fixed on him for a moment before glazing over. At the edge of his vision, he felt tears running down his cheeks.
It all felt so unreal. This couldn't be happening…
"Sorry…" Helios murmured. Then, for a brief moment, he pressed his lips to Dante's before losing consciousness and collapsing in Dante's arms.
Dante held him tightly. He was surely still healing his wounds—this must be some fever dream, he told himself.
But the scene didn't fade. This was real…
Almost automatically, he lifted the far-too-light young man from the chair and laid him on the floor.
Helios had kissed him; in his final moments, his only thought had seemingly been to kiss Dante. Dante's chest ached painfully. He didn't want Helios to die. The feelings he had so carefully tried to bury flared up again and settled into his aching heart.
He had apparently never let go of his love for Helios. How foolish he had been to try to ignore those feelings—or pretend they never existed. Why had he tried to hide them behind the cover of a mission? He should have done more. He should have savored his time with Helios, perhaps even tried again to win him over.
The torture and everything that had once bothered him about Helios suddenly seemed so unimportant…
…him and his damned morality. After all, he had killed so many people himself—and had never even regretted most of them. Sure, maybe Helios was a bit mad in that brilliant little head of his. But Dante still longed for nothing more than for Helios to come back to him.
Dante brushed a lock of hair from Helios's pale forehead and froze: his chest was rising and falling weakly. Helios was still breathing.
A spark of hope flickered. Maybe it wasn't too late.
The immortality serum.
Maybe he could still save Helios!
He tore his gaze from Helios and scanned the room for the suitcase. Belladonna still lay motionless on the floor. He noticed the accountant's body, dead on the ground—a sad fate, but absolutely none of his concern. By the door stood Helios's suitcase. Finally. Dante leapt up, grabbed it, and sat back down beside Helios to open it.
"You have to hang on, you hear me?" Dante said to Helios. His head lolled weakly to the side; his breathing was so shallow it could stop at any moment. The wounds in his abdomen still bled, though much less heavily now.
Quickly, Dante reached for the vial that would boost Helios's blood production. His hand trembled slightly as he drew the liquid into a syringe. He could do this—Helios had explained it to him. He applied a tourniquet, searched until he found a vein, and finally drew blood into the syringe.
Sweat beaded on Dante's forehead—he'd taken far too long; Helios's arm must have looked like Swiss cheese under the skin. Without hesitation, he injected the entire syringe's contents.
"How am I supposed to go on without you? You're the only one who can develop that damn cure. I need you, Helios—without you, this is all hopeless!"
Then he grabbed the next vial. He injected each substance methodically—Helios had taught him which were essential for the immortality serum, so he ignored everything else in the case.
Helios would make it.
No: he had to make it.
"Damn it, if this works you'll probably hate me. But I'll help you find a way to reverse the immortality. We'll do it—even if I have to read a hundred of your clever books."
When he'd administered all the injections, he took the sewing kit from the case and turned to Helios's wounds. He stitched the stab wounds and the skin around the severed fingers so the serum could work more effectively. He knew he'd never reattach them perfectly—or even make them function—but he worked silently and spoke to Helios the whole time, though there was no answer.
"You know, immortality isn't so bad once you get used to it…you're just…lonely. But you won't be alone. I'm here with you, and I'll never leave you—whether you find a cure or not," Dante said, using the conversation to distract himself as he patched Helios up. "We should talk about your hobbies. You can't keep torturing people like this. If you do, I'll have to come up with something to distract you."
But when he cut the final stitch and looked at Helios, he realized the young man had taken his last breath. His face was a silent death mask, serene—as if freed from unending pain.
"Helios…?" Dante asked, voice trembling. He leaned over, cupped Helios's face in his hands, and kissed him. "Wake up. You can't die…"
There was no response—no warm breath on his lips. Helios's eyelids were half-open…nothing moved. His body lay utterly limp in Dante's arms. Dante sobbed, his tears falling onto Helios's face.
"Don't leave me all alone too…" he sobbed softly. Gently, he traced Helios's cheek with his thumb.
But Helios did not move. Dante brushed over his eyelids to close them. Apart from all the blood, he simply looked as if he were sleeping—an almost comforting sight. But he was not asleep.
He was dead.
The man he had fallen in love with was dead, simply because he had allowed himself to be taken out by the Assassin. Because he had taken too long to regenerate. Helios was dead because Dante had injected the serum too late. He should have administered everything first, and only then loosened the bindings.
Dante clenched his fists; the weight of guilt pressed heavily on his shoulders. The tears would not stop flowing.
If only he had given him the serum while he was still bound to the chair. Maybe he could have saved him if he had acted immediately. Or perhaps the serum simply didn't work. After all, they had only this one chance and no way to test it beforehand.
His only hope of becoming mortal again—and the man to whom he had given his one-sided love—were gone.
Grief tore at his insides.
But he could not stay here.
It was almost a miracle that no one had come to investigate yet.
There was nothing more he could do for Helios. He had to get them both out of here. He closed the case, wrapped Helios in his cloak, and cradled him gently in his arms. He couldn't leave the case behind; Helios certainly wouldn't have wanted anyone in this damned organization to find his substances.
Before Dante left the office, he cast one last glance at Belladonna lying lifeless on the floor, surrounded by the pool of blood that must have been nearly everything the man had coursing through his veins.
Dante bit his lower lip.
If everything had gone to plan, he would now be dragging Belladonna bound and gagged behind him. Helios would be walking beside him in his breezy, fearless manner, already plotting how to not only torture Belladonna but also force him to help create the antidote.
But the weight of the young man in his arms brought him face to brutal reality: that would never happen.
Belladonna was dead.
Helios was dead.
And Dante would have to live this damned immortal life for all eternity. If Helios had survived, he would at least have had the next sixty to eighty years to spend with him. But that wish would never come true either.
He left the office and set about getting out of the building.
So far, they all had abandoned him. It was as if his immortality were a curse. His comrades were dead; most of his friends had perished at the start of the war; and the pitiful remainder of his family believed him dead.
He had found new friends in Helios, Davis, and Penelope— even someone he had fallen in love with. Yet he never would have expected these three to die as well. Each of them had seemed so strong and indestructible that Dante had allowed himself the illusion that, with Helios's help, he might regain a mortal life.
When he stepped outside, the cold night air hit him. By habit, he walked to the car they had come in. Carefully, he laid Helios on the back seat, wrapped him in a blanket, and fastened the seatbelt, all the while thinking about what to do next.
Where should he go?
He closed the door, slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove off.
If he took Helios's body to his father, Dante could write his brief will and then look forward to being dissected over and over again in a laboratory.
Helios had no confidants—only Dante and Thomas, who was also waiting for Helios's return at the residence with Vale. Aeternum Pharmaceuticals was out of the question, and so blood-spattered as he was, he couldn't check into a hotel either.
Dante exhaled slowly. He didn't even want to imagine how the hotel staff would react if they discovered he was hauling a corpse around.
But he wasn't ready to part with Helios. He would bury him—but he had no idea where. Had Helios ever mentioned a place he wanted to go?
Suddenly he remembered: the sea. They had planned—after everything—to go to the water, because Helios had never seen it. Tears ran down Dante's cheeks. Helios had spent his whole life in a lab—his first outing had been to Soley, his second too, and neither had even been for pleasure…
Without realizing it, Dante had left the city behind. He didn't know how long he'd driven, but now before him lay the black expanse of the ocean. He stopped, lifted Helios's body from the back seat, and sat down in the sand, cradling the corpse gently in his arms.
His head rested against Dante's chest, yet rigor mortis had not set in. Helios looked almost as if he were sleeping. His skin was cool, but no lividity had formed. Only the absence of breath and heartbeat betrayed his passing. Still, it couldn't be long before rigor mortis took hold. He didn't want to sit here forever—just a little longer…
He leaned his head against the car's hood and gazed up at the sky, where the last stars were fading. Night was yielding to the gray glow of dawn. Soon his time here would run out: in the bright light, they would be discovered. He had to disappear before that happened—besides, he still needed to decide where to bury Helios. It had to be a beautiful place for his final rest, somewhere no one could ever disturb him.
"You know, at first I couldn't stand you," Dante began in a quiet voice, his gaze fixed on the sky. The first rays of dawn painted the stars in soft pink hues. "You were so damned arrogant, unreachable, and so convinced of yourself that it made me want to puke."
A faint smile touched his lips as he remembered the torment of that feeling. "I was afraid you'd find out who I really am—and that I'm immortal. How on earth are you so unbelievably smart? I'd love to know how long you suspected something was off about me."
Dante fell silent again, still watching the stars. He held Helios a little tighter.
"But you had me under your spell just as quickly. At first I didn't even have the courage to ask for your help. I was just grateful to have found you. My friendship with Davis gave me strength, and watching you develop all those medications without a second thought…early on, I dared to hope you could help me with my problem," he whispered.
Speaking the words felt surprisingly good, a welcome distraction from his guilt. It was his fault that Helios had died. He inhaled sharply. "I…never wanted it to come to this. I was alone for so long, and because of you I finally felt like I had a somewhat normal life again. Falling in love with you was pure chance—I'd never imagined I'd fall for a man."
A pained smile crossed his face as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. The red-golden rays bathed the dunes in warm light.
"After everything that's happened, leaving you wouldn't have been easy. You'd probably never have been rid of me—even if you'd cured me. I feel at home by your side, and the wish to be with you is still so strong inside me. Even though I know you're dead. Even though I have to bury you any minute now. I don't even know if I'll be able to leave your grave…"
His voice broke, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I love you, Helios. Why did you have to die? I wish you were here with me and wouldn't leave me all alone…"
Dante shuddered as something cold brushed his cheek.
"Idiot…" Helios murmured softly. His hand fell back limply. "I can't just leave you behind when you cry like a baby..."
Dante's heart skipped a beat. He turned to Helios—those emerald-green eyes sparkled at him, tired but alive. Dante ran his hand over Helios's cool cheek. Warmth flooded back into him.
It was as if he were awakening from a nightmare. "Helios…?" Dante whispered in disbelief.
Helios snorted wearily. "Looks like I survived," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"I thought you were dead!" Dante sobbed.
Before he could think further, he bent down and embraced Helios. He was so relieved that the immortality serum had worked and Helios had returned to life. He would never have to be alone again, no matter how long he endured immortality. Helios would now live forever too. He didn't yet know how he would feel about that, but he didn't care. He had done what he thought was right in the moment. He would explain everything later—but now was absolutely not the time.
"You're crushing me…" Helios murmured, yet he wrapped his arms around Dante and returned the hug.
Dante let out a relieved laugh. "I know."
He couldn't have been happier at that moment. He simply savored it. Saving Helios filled him with an indescribable euphoria. Dante didn't let go until the first ray of sunlight touched their faces. Helios squeezed his eyes shut and blinked against the light.
"What the…" he muttered under his breath, then opened his eyes in astonishment. He sat up and stared in disbelief at the scene before him.
The sea glittered in the morning sun—a picture-perfect sight. Dante hugged Helios again, resting his chin on his shoulder. He didn't want to let go, not after thinking Helios was gone.
"Are we at the sea?" Helios asked quietly.
Dante nodded. "I wanted to bring you here at least once."
Helios leaned against Dante. For a while they watched the sunrise, until Helios finally sighed.
"I never thought I'd like the sea so much," Helios said.
"We can come here whenever you want," Dante replied.
"That would be… wonderful," Helios answered, running his hand along Dante's arm. "I really should take more vacations."
"You do work far too much," Dante said softly, kissing the back of Helios's neck.
"That's true," Helios murmured, tilting his head so Dante could reach him better. He stroked Dante's hair. "Dante?"
"Hm?"
"How about we check into somewhere and wash all this blood off? We could use some new clothes too."
"Do we have to? I don't want this to end already," Dante whispered.
Helios smiled. "Me neither," he breathed, turning to Dante and kissing him. Before long, Helios deepened the kiss. It was tender—Dante felt as if hundreds of butterflies were dancing in his stomach.
But the guilt was eating at him—he needed to tell Helios everything that had happened, even if it would completely ruin the moment.
Dante broke the kiss and cleared his throat. "Helios, I—" he began, but Helios pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.
"Don't," he said simply. "I can more or less guess what happened."
Dante looked at him in surprise, though it shouldn't have shocked him that Helios knew. Helios glanced at his hand—missing two fingers—and sighed, then swept his thumb across Dante's cheek and looked him straight in the eyes.
A clear smile lit his face. Dante's heart pounded so wildly it felt like it would leap right out of his chest.
"We're going to find the nearest hotel now," Helios said in a velvety voice.
Dante nodded.
"We'll get fresh clothes and take a shower. Together."
"Okay," Dante said, feeling his ears grow warm.
"Afterwards, you'll use that strong body of yours to make me forget, as best as possible, why I can't get my revenge on Belladonna," Helios added, tracing a finger over Dante's chest muscles.
Dante swallowed and nodded.
"Finally, we'll come up with an excuse for my father explaining why I didn't come home last night and why I'm not in the lab today. And you'll tell me exactly what happened while I was… dead."
"Okay…" Dante said as Helios tilted his head down and kissed him again.