Dias snorted again, almost grateful for the long hair that hid his face. "If Cecille is waiting for me to be 'okay' before she goes on to heaven," he murmured, "she'll never get there." He glanced over at Maya. "What do you know of it, anyway? For all you know, she's haunting me because she blames me for her death."

Even Dias didn't believe the words as he said them. No; Cecille would never have blamed him for what happened to her, not even if he'd painted a bullseye on her back. But again, instead of reassuring him that knowledge somehow made it all the worse; he deserved to be blamed, deserved to be haunted. Cecille had died because he hadn't been able to protect her, and what were big brothers for, if not that...?