“Is that so?” Bathin still stared at Than, and yeah, I didn’t blame him, because: death.
“I’m done, Bathin. With this. With…us.”
And it was that, the words that came out too softly, his name catching before it fell out of my mouth, that made him look at me.
Andseeme.
Understanding hit him, hard enough he opened his mouth and his pupils dilated. This was it. The end of the road. The end of him in Ordinary. The end of whatever we’d almost had, before we’d even had a chance to really begin.
That tug in my chest went hot. Burning.
“You can’t keep her soul.” I wanted the words to come out with the anger I’d been building over the last year or more, but all I had was sorrow and regret. “She’s hurting,you’rehurting her. And those holes in her soul…that’s how the vortexes are opening. You’ve broken her. You’ve broken Ordinary. And I can’t let you do that anymore.”
“Myra,” he whispered. But he didn’t move, didn’t plead. He just waited, as if he’d accepted his fate, had seen it coming from miles away.
Maybe he had. I’d been after him to let go of her soul ever since we met. If he had compromised, if he had met me halfway—hell, I would have been happy if he’d met me a quarter of the way—this could have been different.
Maybe it could have been a happy ending.
Maybe.
“You had to be such an ass,” I said.
He blinked in surprise before a small smile softened his expression. “I’m a fan of putting my best self forward.”
“You know I have to do this,” I whispered as if it were just he and I. As if our sky and air was a safe, turquoise stone.
He shifted slightly, tilting toward me. But his arms remained crossed, his hands clenched. He knew what was coming. From the anger I could feel burning off him beneath that calm exterior, he was fighting not to lash out.
I wouldn’t blame him if he did. He was a demon, and a demon’s nature is to keep what they claim.
“There is always another choice,” he said.
“Not anymore.”
I stepped back, not trusting myself this near him. It would be too easy to reach out, touch him, hold him, or shake him until sense finally rattled into place in that head of his. “You didn’t give me any choice. Because you never trusted me. You never really wanted to be a part of Ordinary.”
He opened his mouth, but I plowed right on over the top of him. “If you wanted to be here, you would follow the rules. Sign a contract. Let her soul free. You don’t. If you wanted me, you would follow my rules. You don’t.”
The last came out rough, like my voice had picked up gravel, dragged on the bottom of the river.
“So, no. You didn’t give me a choice. But all your choices added up to this. This choice, this now.”
He was silent, eyes steady on me, only the muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Than?” I asked. “Do you have the scissors?”
Than produced the velvet bag stitched with spell-soaked threads and withdrew the scissors, holding them between his finger and thumb.
Bathin didn’t even look at him. “You don’t know everything,” he said to me. “But know this. I have never lied to you. Never about what I feel for you. And this…this is more than it seems.”
Yeah, he wasn’t going to long-suffering-hero his way out of this. I felt no pity. I didn’t dare risk pity.
Than slipped the scissors, gold and bright, over his boney knuckles, opened them once, exposing the flash of ruby and obsidian.
Bathin jerked and took a step back. “Wait!” He held up his hands as if that would be enough to stop Than from doing the deed. “Wait.”
But Death did not wait. He crossed the spell’s barrier, the scissors dripping with light and heat.
