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Pyrrha stood on the edge of her go-to balcony of Canaan House, and the only movement was the tap of her finger on her cigarette, spreading ashes into the sea.
Like the others, she did not remember when she started smoking in her past life, all she did know was that whatever John had done to resurrect them had not replaced the compulsive need, and even though it couldn’t kill her anymore, it wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed. She knew Augustine found it hot and she laughed along with the others when they listened to Alfred making fun of his brother about it, but it all seemed kind of pointless.
Pyrrha suspected it was her need to take risks and walk the dangerous edge that led to the smokes, and if there was no danger of dying horribly of lung cancer, what was the point? Sure, it drew attention to your lips, but what else?
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she knew who it would be. She’d been weighing up the offer in her head for days; weeks even, and she still wasn’t fully sure what she wanted to do.
Flicking the butt of the cigarette into the sea of the place she now knew was home; the grave of her old one, from what they’d been told, she grabbed a new one out of her jean pocket and lit it as John approached, almost hesitantly. She was used to him stepping on eggshells anytime he brought up this idea, as if he knew what she would be dealing with if she agreed to help him.
“Pyrrha…?”
Soft green eyes took in John’s golden ones.
“I’ll do it. I’ll build you an army, and you’ll keep me around. To protect him .”
John nodded and responded, folding his hands in front of him in a way he probably thought was ‘godly’. “No one can know, Pyrrha. Especially Gideon.”
She made a series of gestures in front of her chest heralding back to a religion long destroyed, before pressing a hand to her heart. “I know, John.”
His eyes crinkled, and even with the benevolent smile, Pyrrha wasn’t sure if she’d made a deal with God, or a deal with the Devil. “Good. Thank you. I’ll…uh…leave you to it, then.”
Turning away, Pyrrha resumed her staring out at the ocean—the grave of the place that had once been her home. Flicking the cigarette down, down, down into the depths, and she wondered if she’d made the worst mistake of her life.