“Was he dead?” she says.
“No. It took six more hours for him to actually die. I sat and waited. That was the hardest part. He begged and pleaded. Then he cursed and screamed. Then he pleaded again.”
“Did you want to let him out?”
“If I did, I might as well cut my own throat. It was him or me, long before the pit.”
“What were you waiting for, then?”
“I was making sure no one else came along.”
Mara’s throat jumps as she swallows. Even with everything she knows about me, my callousness shocks her.
“What about your father?” she asks me.
“I told him it was an accident. That I tried to run for help, but I got lost in the woods.”
“Did he believe you?”
“He knew I would never get lost.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘That was the only family you had left. When I die, you’ll be completely alone.’ ”
Mara takes my hand again. Not squeezing it this time, just holding it in her lap, her fingers linked with mine.
“And you were,” she says softly.
“I thought it was better to be alone. Safer. More pleasant, even.”
“But you still did this,” Mara says, looking around at my father’s office, smashed to pieces with a rage that still screams from every corner of the room, all these years later.
“It affected me more than I expected,” I admit.
Mara lifts my hand to her mouth, brushing my knuckles against her lips.
“I can’t blame you,” she says. “Your uncle sounds terrifying.”
I set her hand down gently on her lap, facing her and looking her in the eyes.
“That was the first time I killed,” I say. “But there were more. It’s like losing your virginity … the first time seems so significant. Each one after is less and less important. Until you barely remember their names.”
Her tongue darts out to moisten her pale lips.
“Who was the second person?” she murmurs.
“I was drunk at a club in Paris. Three men followed me out, planning to mug me. I fought one off. The second ran away. The third … I slammed his head against the alley wall until his skull cracked.”
Mara’s hand floats up to her mouth. This time she bites down hard on the edge of her nail.
“That was the only time I killed on impulse, without a plan. The others were more strategic.”
“How many?” she whispers.
“Fourteen.”
Mara makes a faint choking sound. Her cheeks have gone pale and grayish, her knuckles white.
“None were women,” I say, as if that will comfort her.
“Why not women?” she asks faintly.
I shrug. “Men deserve it more.”
Mara sits forward, elbows on her knees, hands covering her face. I give her time to process, knowing that she suspected some of this, but could never have guessed the full truth.
After a moment, her shoulders stiffen and her head snaps up. She sits up, regarding me with sudden animation.
“You killed Sonia’s ex-husband,” she blurts out.
I frown at her.
“How do you know that?”
“Sonia told me how he died. I thought it was very … convenient.”
“It was very inconvenient when he was dragging her to court for months on end. It affected her work.”
Mara squints at me. “You could have just fired her.”
“Hiring someone new is even worse.”
“You wanted to help her.”
“I helped myself. It just happened to benefit Sonia as well.”
Mara shakes her head at me, already recovering her amusement. “You have a soft spot for women.”
“The fuck I do. Don’t forget how we met.”
“I remember.”
The office is growing dark. I never switched on the lights, because I shattered the overhead fixture along with everything else in the room. We’ve been sitting in the little light that could filter through the wisteria and the dusty windows. Now it’s all fading away.
“You know, that wasn’t the first time I actually saw you.”
Mara blinks, her lips forming a small circle of confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw you at the Oasis show. Shaw did, too. He saw me watching you. Jack Brisk spilled wine on your dress. I thought you’d leave the party—instead you used more wine to dye the dress. It surprised me that you were so innovative. Surprised me more how beautifully you did it. I was impressed. Shaw couldn’t understand that, of course. He thought I wanted to fuck you.”
Mara stares at me, mouth open.
She says, “Is that why he took me?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I insulted him. I said he was undisciplined, out of control. He wanted to prove I was the same … under the right temptation.”
Mara blinks slowly, finally understanding.
“You chose me.”
“I didn’t know it then, but I already had. I tried to leave you on that mountain … you survived anyway. From that moment, I was obsessed. I had to know how you did it. I had to understand.”
Mara’s eyes are dark and liquid in failing light.
“And do you? Do you understand now?”
I rest my palm against the edge of her jaw, stroking my thumb across her lips.
“I know you can’t be broken. I’m still testing if you can be tamed …”
Mara catches my thumb in her teeth, biting down.
“You’re not tame yourself.”
I like how hard she bites, the little savage.
It makes me want to bite her back.
“No, I’m not,” I agree. “And I never will be.”
“Neither will I,” Mara hisses, equally fierce.
She’s not afraid of me. She never has been.
I remember how she confronted me in my own studio, eyes blazing, fists clenched at her side. Demanding to know how I dared leave her to die. Scoffing in the face of my lies.
I seize her by the throat and kiss her, pinning her back against the slashed sofa.
She’s out of her fucking mind, and so am I.
Our madness aligns in all the right ways.
When we’ve pulled on our clothes again, I remind Mara, “A question for a question. I haven’t forgotten.”
Mara sighs. “You kept your word. I’ll keep mine.”
I take her hand, pulling her up from the sofa. Mara doesn’t flinch away from me—she loves when I touch her, even knowing of all the blood on these hands.
Her normal-meter is broken. She’s been around too many horrible people. She doesn’t know how brutal I truly am, how unredeemable.
Lucky for me, I suppose.
“Come up to the kitchen,” I say. “I can’t get you a unicorn, but I can damn sure make you an ice cream sundae.”
Mara follows me up to the main level. Despite me telling her exactly what I was going to do, she’s still delighted when I put down a giant bowl of vanilla ice cream in front of her, covered in chocolate syrup and mounds of whipped cream.
She’s always more surprised by kindness than by cruelty.
Mara takes a massive bite, eyes closed, letting the ice cream melt on her tongue before she swallows.