I peeled my lip up and looked at my gums. Nothing was there besides the pressure and ache. My tongue rolled over my canines. There was a small split in the middle—a subtle forked tongue. I snapped my mouth shut.
No pleading or begging had worked on my father when he’d found the dead animals. After that, he’d been on a mission to teach me basilisks kill—that everything I touched was doomed to die, no matter how much I cried about it.
My father’s lessons had involved locking me in a room with someone and not letting me out until they were dead. At first, they were strangers—humans who didn’t know what I was. They’d seen a scared child and wanted to help. I couldn’t stop them. But eventually, it had been anyone he could get. One by one, the mansion emptied—no more teachers, no more maids, no more cooks.
The lessons stopped the day I no longer cared. Finally, I killed without hesitation, smiling back at my dad. It’d taken alot of lessons to earn that smile, and it had cost me greatly. I’d thought he’d be proud. This was what he wanted, right? Of course, I didn’t get his pride.Imagine that. I did get something else, though … his fear. Luckily, I liked that just as much.
Father had made his point—I was deadly—and I was nice enough to make the point right back.
No onereallyknew what went on in that house because there was no one left to, after good ole dad had me murder the whole staff. No one to hear screaming, and no one to know just how long my parents had been dead before I grew bored and called Verfallen, pretending to be them.
With an annoyed groan, I shoved the memories back in the past. My situation was bringing them to the surface like bloated corpses, but I had a job to do. Get away from the people I cared about.Basilisks kill, Basil,I could hear my father in my head.
I dragged my hands down my face and turned away from the mirror. I was changing already. Time was running out. After they fell asleep, I’d run. I just needed to find a place with a phone, call Damien, and make a deal. Me in exchange for Bree, Nemo, and Orson.
Back in the living room, I lay on the couch. Orson had left the journal on the coffee table, and I had some time to kill. I found the place I left off. They were arguing over the magical coat again. Damien wasn’t letting it go. They had a bad fight, and whenBijoudidn’t come back for days, Damien was distraught. The pages were filled with anxiety, dread, and panic. He couldn’t lose his love.
The moment he came back, Damien fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness.
How the fuck was this the bad guy? Damien apologized, promised he’d never bring it up again. He told him why he’d wanted it so bad. He felt like he wasn’t trusted, and that Bijou planned to leave one day.
After their talk, Bijou relented and said he’d give Damien the coat.
There was a single sentence written in the middle of the next page.
“He gave me the coat.” I flipped the page.
“He gave me the coat.” Flip.
“He gave me the coat.” I swallowed thickly. Flip.
“He gave me the coat.” A chill ran over me, and I slammed the book shut. It was a very nice story, thinking Damien wasn’t really a villain. That he had reasons like I did. That there were good intentions behind his actions.
My fingers tapped the leather cover of the journal. The vials were heavy in my pocket. What would happenafterI turned myself in to Damien? I hadn’t thought about it. I couldn’t, could I?
I licked my lips and slid the journal under the couch, deciding I didn’t want to know what happened. Out of sight, out of mind. If I knew the truth, it might change my mind. But Icouldn’tchange my mind, or Bree and the others would die. I’d kill them.
Basilisks kill, Basil.Amazing that I could still remember my father’s voice perfectly.
“It’s gone,”Bree said. I woke up, my heart beating fast. Panting, I looked down at myself, making sure my skin was still there. I’d dreamed that a shadowy Damien had strapped me to a table and was cutting it off, saying he wanted my coat.
“Shit.” I rubbed my eyes then checked my watch.
Ten hours left.
Out the window, the last remains of light were being swallowed by a star-filled sky.
“The bags were decades old,” Orson sighed. “I’m sorry. We should have put them in a container to defrost.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The blood bags were broken, and I didn’t put the stopper in right. It all drained down the sink,” Bree said. It’s easy not to feel bad when you’ve had thorough lessons not to. I mean, maybe, deep down, I felt bad. But I knew how to pretend I didn’t well enough that I was functionally a psychopath.
“It’ll be fine, you can drink from us tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get fresh blood.” Orson squeezed her shoulder. His purple eyes landed on me, and my heart stopped. Had he figured it out?
“Don’t drink from Baz,” he finally said. Either he didn’t know or was playing dumb. Maybe he’d made up his mind to stay out of my way after all?
“Why?” She asked. As if it wasn’t obvious why. I sighed. She was never going to accept that everything had changed when the serum was injected into me.
