Mortal Danger

So I got my phone and typed, You there?

Yep. How was the party?

Can you come over? By the time I locked the door, he was in my room.

“That’s handy.” Odd. My voice didn’t sound shaky at all.

“You don’t ask me over for ninja visits unless something’s wrong.” He replaced the distance with concern. Five seconds later, I was in his arms. While I recounted Cameron’s last moments, he stroked my back. I finished by asking, “What did I see? Is he dead?”

He hesitated. “I’ve never witnessed anything like that. But if the dogs took him, I suspect the answer is yes.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I demanded. “What about his parents?”

“I have no idea. I wish I did.”

A whimper escaped me. “It’s … I think I’m doing this.” Before he could interrupt with hollow reassurances, I repeated what I had been thinking the instant before. Cameron disappeared—how I couldn’t forgive him. Then it was like my dark reflections translated to instant judgment. “Now tell me that’s a coincidence.”

“It seems unlikely.”

“I can’t deal,” I whispered. “I’m so scared right now.”

Kian murmured something into my hair and tugged me toward the bed. I knew better than to imagine he’d picked this as the perfect time to make his move, so I followed, and he cuddled me against his chest. No telling how long it would take for the party to wind down and for anyone to realize Cameron had vanished. But unlike Russ, there was no body for anyone to find.

If anyone looks.

“I’d do anything to get you out of all this,” he said softly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I was just upset enough to tackle the way he had been acting. Again. “What’re you hiding from me?”

“How long have you known?” At least he didn’t try to deny it.

I thought back. “Since just after we went to your new place.”

“I need to give back that trophy for best actor.” He attempted a smile, but too much pain dragged down the corners of his mouth, resulting in more of a grimace.

“Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Good advice, if it wasn’t already too late.”

“Kian, tell me.”

“I made a deal for your protection,” he blurted.

A spate of words I didn’t even realize I knew—in all-new combinations—tumbled out. “With who?”

“He’s not in the game, but he has leverage. He’s not interested in competing with other immortals. His interests are more … varied.” That wasn’t an answer, and he knew it.

Maybe who wasn’t the right question. “Exactly what did you use for collateral?”

In the old stories, humans made all kinds of dire bargains with elder beings. Swaps included the soul, a first-born child, all the love in your heart, or a particular memory. The taut silence ended when I smacked him. Inexplicably, he smiled.

“It’s not a big deal, Edie. I was already serving a life sentence. So it doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” I fixed him with a look that promised I wouldn’t budge until he confessed, but Kian shook his head.

“Knowing certain things would make your life worse. This is one of them.”

“Before, you said ‘I want you to have a life.’ And you looked so sad. Is it because you signed away what little freedom you had left? For me?”

“Stop talking,” he said firmly.

I wasn’t in the mood, at first, when he started kissing me, but Kian’s mouth changed that. Even though his physical closeness felt good, it didn’t change my sadness. When Kian left an hour later, my sorrow still went bone deep, because our kisses tasted of loss and endings. The Pandora’s box in my head exploded, peppering me with emotional shrapnel: Brittany, Russ, now Cameron. The guilt spread through my system like a poison, and I couldn’t even rely on Kian to be straight with me. Our relationship could survive all kinds of stress, but not his silence or his secrets, and I didn’t want to watch us die like I had Cameron. That night, I cried until my head ached.

Things didn’t look better in the morning, possibly because my eyes were almost swollen shut. An hour of cold compresses reduced the damage enough for me to leave my room. Sunday my parents slept in; I couldn’t talk to them and a day in isolation wouldn’t help, so I shoved some things in a backpack and headed out. One of my favorite places in the city was the Victory Garden on Boylston. During the day, it was a great place to walk when you had nowhere else to be and, more important, it was free. During the worst time of my life, I’d spent hours hiding there and pretending I had a social life. Today, the character of each plot didn’t charm or relax me. I wandered aimlessly, shoulders bowed beneath the awareness that Cameron was gone, and it was my fault.

I wish I knew what I accomplish that’s so important. The immortals were batshit crazy if they thought I could see things like this and then stay on course toward a shining future. Of course, maybe that’s the point. You don’t know who killed Cam. If Dwyer is watching you, he might’ve decided that guilt would drive you nuts. If that was true, maybe I didn’t manifest the death dog after all. It wouldn’t save Cameron, but then I wouldn’t have to live with knowing I was a heinous person. But I’d ping-ponged over who to blame before.

Despite the brisk breeze and the sunlight, I spun in place, suddenly wary. The people wandering the garden this late in the year were mostly old. A few gardeners had planted pumpkins and had Halloween displays not yet taken down. Bales of hay and gourds, mostly, though there were ghosts made of white sheets and fat-bellied witches from plastic trash bags. I didn’t see anyone rang my alarm bells.

Until something rasped, “Hello, pretty-girl skin.”

The thin man had spoken to me once before and I would never forget that sound, or the waft of the grave that poured from his mouth. I whirled, making sure he was out of reach. Kian said not to let him touch you. But he wasn’t close enough. Yet. People passed all around us, probably guessing I was admiring the autumnal colors in the chrysanthemums before me.

“What do you want?” I growled the words, low, hoping nobody would notice the crazy girl talking to the flowers.

“I bring a message from my master.”

“And who’s that?”

“The Lightbringer, of course.”