Kincaid’s face falls.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I place a hand on his shoulder, and he starts. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him because isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when someone dies?
Haunted yellow eyes consider me carefully in the dim lighting of the room. The flicker of firelight bathes him in a soft orange hue.
He opens his mouth to say something in reply, then closes it again and reaches up to take my hand from his shoulder. He holds it for a moment in his and then presses it against my own chest and releases it.
He nods once and turns to go.
“Kincaid, wait,” I blurt. “Will you leave again?”
I need to know.
Being here, in Elisium, alone, with Artemis as my responsibility has been the most stressful twenty-odd hours of being on this side of The Hinge, and that’s saying something.
If someone came for us, I wouldn’t be able to protect him.
If there’s anything I’ve learned since Artemis arrived, it’s that fear for my own safety is nothing in comparison to fearing for the safety of someone else who is in your charge.
“No, Na’vazēm. I won’t be leaving you. I hardly want you out of my sight.”
He seems to struggle with some decision, his shoulders rippling with muscle as his fists clench and unclench at his sides. “You will come to the Midnight Court with me on the next moon,” he says with finality.
“I need to make an appearance there briefly, and I can’t trust you will be safe here without me. Not anymore.”
I’m about to give him a resounding hell no before I remember I can’t. Not if I want to uphold my end of the bargain and get out of here.
If there’s any remote possibility that I can leave Elisium, go back to the mortal side of the river, I have to take it. If not for myself, then for Artemis.
I brought him into this mess and now it’s my job to get him out.
“As you wish,” I snap, and stoop to snatch up the book from the floor before strolling from the room.
23
“So, are you and Mr. Kincaid, like, boning?” Artemis’ questioning voice breaks my concentration for the millionth time, and I groan in frustration, flushing scarlet.
“No,” I grit out. “We are not boning.”
He gives me a one shoulder shrug. “It’s a valid question.”
“Can you just stop talking. I can’t concentrate with you blathering nonstop.”
He makes a wounded face and gasps, but then falls back into forced silence with a roll of his eyes. “Fine.”
“Give me your hands,” I demand, reaching over my crossed legs to him.
He does as he’s told, slapping his palms down against mine with another audible sigh. “It isn’t going to work…” I hear him grumble beneath his breath.
I shush him and clasp his hands, sealing my eyes shut to find my center.
The book Kincaid gave me in the library four days ago has a lot of valuable information about necromancy. It’s not exactly a how-to guide, but I’ve always been good at reading between the lines.
Apparently, Kincaid was right about demons not having souls, at least, if this book is to be believed.
Except, I saw and heard Malphas in that graveyard, which means he must have something like a soul, right?
Artemis’ soul is easy to sense, which is why he’s unwillingly become my practice dummy. According to the book—if I am a necromancer like Kincaid thinks—I should be able to feel Artemis’ soul.
Not just see the glow of its aura like a ghostly form around him, but actually feel it, and if I wanted to, I should also be able to suck it out and then deposit it back inside him.
Obviously, I’m not going to try that quite yet. I’d be happy to settle for actually finding and feeling the thing, but we’ve been trying off and on for the last two days with no success.
“Ugh,” I moan, dropping his hands after a further five minutes of teeth-grinding. My brain feels about ready to explode. “You’re right. I can’t do it.”
“So, can we have a snack now? I’m starved.”
I roll my eyes at him and wave a hand toward the door. “Go,” I tell him, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger to try and rid my skull of the incessant aching. “I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself,” he chimes. “I’ll just bring you a glass of water.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, and then, pointing to my forehead, I add, “Hey, do you mind? It’s really killing me again.”
Artemis kneels back down and clasps my head between his palms. A burst of shuddering warmth ripples down my spine and when he lets me go a second later, the pain has ebbed and the black spots in my vision are gone.
“What would I do without you?” I say in a whisper before yawning. Artemis’ ability always makes me want to curl up and take a nap.
He laughs. “Your head would probably explode.”
I don’t think he’s wrong.
Artemis opens the door to leave but pauses in the doorway and then bends to pick something up from the floor.
“Is it your birthday or something?”
My brows furrow. “No,” I reply. “My birthday isn’t for another month. What is it?”
Artemis turns back around, a large flat box clasped between his hands. It’s crisp white with a golden ribbon around its middle that’s tied into a lazy bow at the top.
When Artemis sets it onto my lap, he lifts the tiny tag hidden beneath a curl of gold ribbon. “It says your name on it.”
Sure enough, when Artemis angles the tag toward me, I can see it reads Paige in a flowing script.
My mouth goes dry and my face must be a dead giveaway because Artemis snickers and his blue eyes go bright with delight. “You are such a liar. I knew you were boning him!”
I get up from the floor and give him a little shove, my skin itching with his accusation. “Stop saying that,” I warn, but there’s no mirth in the threat.
He narrows his eyes at me, a taunting smirk on the corner of his juvenile lips.
“Or you’ll what?” he says, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. It’s his favorite thing to do.
I don’t know why I thought having a pubescent teen around twenty-four-seven was a good idea.
Artemis may have seen some shit in his short life, but he’s still a kid. And I’m starting to find that the more comfortable he gets, the more annoying he becomes.
“Or,” I start, stammering in my indignant fury, “or I’ll make Kincaid return you to those awful Diablim women.”
He grins triumphantly, “Because you have that demon whipped.”
“Oh my god. Get out.” I growl. “Go get your damned snack before I make good on that promise.”
Artemis laughs all the way out the door and down the hall. We both know I would never send him away.
I wait to make sure he’s really gone before I set the box down on the bed and tiptoe to the door. I shut it, silently turning the knob so it doesn’t make any noise and then padding back to the bed.
I study the tag for a second time, my blood rushing in my ears. There’s no one else in Elisium who knows I’m here except maybe that Tori girl and the Diablim from the demon market.