I raised my eyebrows. “Do you care?”
“Perhaps I do.” His tone was speculative, as if he were forming an opinion about something.
“Well, don’t take it personally. Lyari doesn’t trust anyone. Not even me, most days.” With that, I walked away again, returning to the opposite end of the porch. I wrapped my fingers around the wooden railing and stared toward the trees without seeing them. I forced myself to think about what I was about to do.
For Finn, I could do this. For my friend, I could add another nightmare to the dozens of them already living beneath my bed, waiting for their chance to leap out of the darkness.
Minutes later, light footsteps sounded, and a warm body filled the space beside me. A strand of pale, gleaming hair stirred in a breeze, touching my shoulder. Laurie’s scent arrived a moment later, familiar in its allure, eliciting images like laying down in a field of wildflowers or stepping into a hothouse.
I wish I could talk to Collith.
The thought came out of nowhere, and suddenly I found myself comparing them again—Collith and Laurie. If he were here, the faerie I’d loved would have some wise words to comfort me. Lend me strength. Somehow, like a storm rolling in, a slow drizzle giving way to relentless torrents, he’d become the one who made it easy to face my fears. It was different from how I felt when I was with Laurie. Calmer.
But none of this mattered right now.
“Every second I stand here, Finn is in pain,” I said, still staring into the night. There was nothing to see, really—it was too dark, even for my better-than-average eyesight—but I concentrated on the black horizon as though it were a brilliant sunset.
“No one would consider it cowardice if someone else did this,” Laurie said. His voice was casual.
“I would,” I replied quietly. Hearing myself say it out loud helped. I was really doing this.
Finn had suffered long enough. I turned away from Laurie and walked into the house, knots forming inside me. As I neared the basement door, I removed a scrunchie around my wrist and started scraping my hair back, trying to think clinically, as if none of this involved taking the life of someone I loved. The fastest, most painless way to kill a werewolf was a holy water bullet to the head. The gun at my hip would do the job. Do the job. What a strange way to think about killing one of my best friends. An abrupt, strange snicker left me.
“Did I miss a joke?” Laurie asked. I hadn’t heard him following, but for once I didn’t jump in surprise—maybe some part of me had hoped he would come. He stopped and added, “Or did you finally realize how much that painting looks like an enormous penis? I’ve been waiting for someone else to notice for weeks.”
I thought about telling him to shut up, but Laurie’s voice was far better than the silence.
Of course that was the one of the rare moments he stopped talking. We reached the door that led to the basement, and a terrible silence trembled around us.
Laurie started to respond, but then a familiar voice drifted through the air. “Are you going to leave me down here forever, Fortuna Sworn?”
For a moment or two, I genuinely believed I was going to vomit. The world tilted, and I moved to grab hold of something and wait until this dream passed. Because it had to be a dream, another terrible nightmare pouncing on me within the night. Maybe I was still at the Seelie Court, and these past few days had been another mind game. God, suddenly I hoped that was actually true.
The faerie at my side watched me regain control, his expression unreadable. When he spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically solemn. “Are you ready for this?”
Neither of us would like my response, so I said nothing. I turned around, touching the gun at my hip to make sure it was still there. But I didn’t move. Not yet—I had to wipe all expression from my face first. Had to hide the fear and pain, so the person waiting below didn’t see it. Then I looked down and willed myself to move.
Never had I stared so intently at a doorknob. It gleamed dully in the lamplight, dented and faded from so many years of use. Desperate for any kind of delay or distraction, I allowed myself to wonder about all the people that had touched this doorknob before. What sort of lives they’d led. Whether they’d ever found themselves in a moment like this.
The air trembled with an enraged scream. I almost recoiled, but somehow I stayed in place, gathering the last of my resolve. My hand returned to the gun at my hip, partly in reassurance, and partly in some desperate hope that it wouldn’t be there.
With one more deep, fortifying breath, I finally opened the door and went to kill someone I loved.
I walked down the short flight of steps, trying to hide how my insides still quivered. The lightbulb above us made a slight buzzing sound. I knelt just outside the chalk boundary and peered into the darkness with ice in my eyes. Savannah and Lyari stood nearby, both of them tense.
The demon was conscious and sitting cross-legged in the circle. It still wore Finn’s human shape, but there was nothing of my dear friend in the face that looked back at me. It seemed he’d finally lost the battle.
The second I laid eyes on him, though, I knew I couldn’t do it. Not this. Maybe it should’ve been easy, after all the lives I’d taken, but apparently even I had limits. All my resolve crumbled into dust.
“Does Belanor’s offer still stand?” I asked bluntly. Laurie and Lyari made mutual sounds of frustration.
The demon and I ignored them. The creature pouted and gave me a slow headshake of disappointment. “What, no pleasantries? No clever banter or exchange of intelligent minds?”
“I’d hardly call you intelligent, since you’ve pissed off someone who will make sure death is slow and painful,” I countered.
The demon tilted its head. “How? How will you make sure of that? I’m curious.”
I gave it a tight smile. “I’ll let that question haunt you. Eat away at you. And then, once you start to feel safe again, that’s when I’ll come for you.”
“I’m terrified,” the creature said with a mocking shudder. “Truly, I’m shaking in my boots. Or should I say, I’m trembling in Finn’s boots. Poor fellow. He’s still in here, you know. He can hear and see everything.”
Its words sent a chill through me, but I kept my face void of all expression. “I’m only going to ask one more time. Will Belanor still accept me in exchange for getting the fuck out of my friend?”
“Yes, the king’s offer stands,” the demon said with a hint of impatience. “There is a witch standing outside as we speak.”
At this, I looked toward the window, as if the witch would be peering at us through an opening in the cardboard. But it was smooth and intact. I turned back to the demon, allowing another silence to creep over the room.
“What will the spell accomplish?” I asked eventually. I knew it was pointless, but I had to ask anyway.
“You didn’t know? It will turn the air into cotton candy and make you cry tears of rose petals,” the demon chirped. And despite my resolve to show no emotion, to avoid any sort of reaction that would ruin the plan I was starting to form, my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to leap forward and beat this thing’s face into a bloody pulp. But it was my friend’s face I would be hurting. My friend’s blood I’d be spilling.