I glance over at him. Alright, maybe I don’t see anyonhim, but I’m sure they are somewhere there.
“Fuck off,” I say. “Once you turn back into a bird, and you will, I’ll pluck you feather by feather and practice my carving skills on you. How’s that?”
He cocks a brow.
“You’ve been spending too much time with your little murder club. You’re getting fucked up in the head.”
What did I say just now? Myself might sass me back, and will do just that.
“Cut the crap.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You fucked me over. I know that much. I heard you disappeared when I blacked out and lay dead out there.”
I vaguely flap my hand in the area where I came from.
He slowly mirrors my squint.
“Maybe I just didn’t feel like babysitting a corpse.”
My palms go clammy with rage.
“Forgot this corpse—” I pat my chest. “—isyou?”
Remember when I said that this rogue part of me might not want to help me? I guess we’re getting a first-hand display of that. Turns out I am my own tormentor when the role is vacant.
How much disappointment can one human soul contain before it detonates?
“I didn’t forget anything,” Pain counters. “You, on the other hand…”
He turns and steps into the hall. On cue, the light there starts flickering. I am absolutely not going after him.
“Hey!” I shout after him. “Get back here, you little—”
Pain does not.
Of course he doesn’t.
He’s living up to the damn name.
He pauses just outside the doorway, half his face lit in the weak, jaundiced glow from the single working bulb in the hall, the other half swallowed in shadow.
“Why? So you can keep being ungrateful?” His voice goes scalpel-sharp. “I saved you from the wraith. Multiple times. I also did your Grim Reaper duties while you were off getting Stockholm-syndromed by your kidnappers. Then I show up when you call, like hey, maybe she’ll finally appreciate me, only for you to not even recognize me. I’ve been with you for five years, Skye.”
For a moment, I’m confused. I just blink at him. Twice.
Then it hits.
Oh.
That time. When we tried to summon the wraith and didn’t know what we were doing and summoned Pain instead. Sure, that tracks. But he expected me to recognize him immediately? Like on sight? In his surprise emo boy form?
“You were a bird for five years,” I tell him flatly. “Forgive me for not sprinting into your arms screaming, ‘Ah yes, my beloved corvid son, how I’ve missed your worm-regurgitating beak.’ How exactly was I supposed to connect the dots there?”
Pain’s lip twitches. “If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve known what I was before Death had to spell it out for you. It was not that hard.”
“Um, excuse me?” I shove off the wall. My knees nearly buckle. “There were bigger problems happening. Even if I did get weird vibes from you, which I did by the way, I was kind of busy thinking I might die every five minutes.”
The shadows in the hall seem to cling to him like they want him back. He leans against the doorframe, all casual posture and razor-edge voice.
“Even now you refuse to own up to it. Is it so difficult for you to admit you made a mistake?”
