Something had gone wrong. A little over a year ago, they'd existed as an offshoot of Andras, and then things fell apart--as things always do, Clover reminded herself. Something had gone wrong, and Jesse had lost a major chunk of his life. Clover didn't really understand what had gone wrong, what couldn't be repaired. She knew that Grey was involved, and anywhere that Grey was involved instantly made Clover uncomfortable. Some things brought on a level of discomfort that were inescapable. Months ago, Clover had been determined to go to Micah, to discover the whole truth and try to fix things, but that had been before, right before she'd slept with Jesse and started another shitstorm. After that moment, she'd had a feeling that no one would really want her around, not since she'd given herself a reputation as a homewrecker. No, not a homewrecker, just a slut. There was a difference.
A little over a year ago, things would have been easy to repair, or so she assumed, but passing time made everything harder. Words and actions turned to stone; everything that had happened calcified. Going to Micah became impossible. Going to Velveteen became suicide. Clover found herself unable to build the bridge she'd wanted to build and resolve the issues they'd needed resolved. Maybe Clo didn't try hard enough. Maybe none of Fforde really tried hard enough. If they'd had a stronger connection to Andras, things could have ended differently.
In the past, Clo assumed Jesse still missed them. She would have missed them, had she been in his shoes. But too much had happened. It was too late. As Clover made her way to the Handle Bar, she realized that the door to that road had closed a long time ago. Neither party wanted the other; where something good had existed, hostility had bloomed. They'd gone from being cohesive to being enemies, and the same went with Tytonidae. Jesse had once been part of the group, but he'd made one big mistake, a mistake that had Clover taking that long walk from Circle to the Handle Bar.
He'd been the one to sell the tome, but the entire lineage had to suffer. Family or not, acknowledged blood or not, they were all suffering for the same stupid reason. Clover was furious, the type of furious that sent her into a silent rage. She didn't want to forgive him. She didn't want to write off the mistake. She wanted to kill him for getting her killed, even if the idea for the duel belonged to her, even if she wanted the chance to shoot Vel in the head. Unknown to anyone but her dearest friend Athena, Clover had looked at the opportunity to walk away. She'd considered leaving everyone and everything. She'd been that angry.
The thought of leaving reminded her that she did have reasons to stay. She'd told Jesse that he wasn't stupid, but he'd done something stupid. She'd warned her childe, Raven. She'd done what she could to resolve what she could. In a duel, only one person walked away, and Clo knew, without a doubt, that it wasn't going to be herself.
With one hand on her pistol and the other in the front pocket of her leather jacket, Clover crossed the parking lot of the bar and waited. The exterior of the place was deserted, though the interior had the regulars. It was the perfect time and the perfect place. Clo had mixed feelings about the bar. She had mixed feelings about most places anymore. But the bar had been a special place. It was a good place to die.
When Vel showed up and the gunfight began, Clo took cover behind a couple of motorcycles. She was hit in the back. She was hit in the leg. Clo lost count of the bullets leaving her gun and the bullets tearing into her body. Somewhere, Jesse followed through with his own agenda. She had to hope they had the same violence in mind. When the final bullet ripped through her skin and broke through her skull, Clo dropped her gun and fell backwards. A shadow never really died. They faded away. Even under light, the shadow still existed, just waiting for the opportunity to rise again.
When she died, she thought about Jesse. She thought about Raven. She prayed to whatever god would hear her that Renee and Ursa would stay away, that they'd hide until the worst of it was over. As terrible as it was to hide, Clo wanted them to be exceptions. Clo wanted Axel back, expecting him to duel as she'd dueled. When she died, she dispersed, and that was that. There was no grand display, no lengthy showing or funeral or memorial. Clo simply ceased to exist.
On the other side, she waited. She searched for other members of Fforde; she waited for other members of Fforde. She found no one. It was both a blessing and a curse. She didn't want someone else to arrive. She didn't want to stumble across the remnants of another Fforde member. For days, she waited. She built up her strength and tried to collect the broken pieces of herself. It was difficult. It was always difficult. Usually, she couldn't find all the pieces, the jagged remains of herself. She lost a little bit to the darkness. She lost a little bit more to the darkness.
