My eyes flash up to my father and he cocks his head, taking me in. I need to say something, need to reply to Death, who is standing over me. I must warn him away from me, but I find that my mouth is dry, my tongue sticking to the top of my mouth.
“Ah, there he is. You always were too emotional, too much like her.”
I inhale, the taste of bile on my tongue.
“Too many feelings, isn’t that right, Samvel?”
Henry nods behind him, slurping on his drink. “Always was a crybaby.”
“Mm. Remember that rabbit? What was its name? Sophie?”
“Sasha,” I croak.
My father rubs his chin, moving back slightly, the shadows enveloping his face. I take in his suit and tie, the way his body looks sleek and polished in it. If he weren’t Death personified, I’d think he was just a normal man on his way to work.
But he’s so much more.
Sinister.
Evil.
“But the rabbit doesn’t matter. Not really. What does is how you wept when I burned her. I never understood that. She was dead anyway. You had taken her apart and put her back together again. I should have known then what you were, but I never truly understood how disappointing you were until Henry told me what you did for fun. Necklaces made of bone?”
“It’s a hobby.”
“It’s a waste of time.”
The easy way he dismisses me makes me spit back, “It’s a good thing I don’t care what you think of me.”
“Oh, but you will. You will care very much.”
I don’t know what that means, but I don’t have a chance to deliberate it.
“Tell him,” Henry interrupts, pulling the lid off his drink and tilting it back, trying to extract the last of the boba from the bottom.
My father turns his head and stares at Henry. “I will.” He faces me again, and his eyes gleam. “We have so much time.”
He rubs his hands together and then snaps his fingers. A chair materializes before me, and my father sinks into it.
He stares at me for a long time and then shakes his head.
“You still don’t look like me. Far too much like her. Not Armenian at all, are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, well, I’ve heard that you don’t remember much. It’s going to be such fun rehashing it. Such good memories.”
He leans back in his chair and sighs happily. He pulls out his phone, typing something out on it, and then places it in his jacket pocket.
“Where’s Emma?” he asks Henry as Henry crunches down on some ice.
“She’s upstairs sharpening her knives. Says she wants to make them very sharp for our brother here.”
“Ah yes, she is very eager. You killed her girlfriend. She’s very mad about it.”
“Who was her girlfriend?” I can’t help but ask.
“A Siren who died in the ambush from the Costellos. You do realize you’re in this mess because of them, right? They have what I want, and you’re my leverage. And also, I’d like a little revenge. Just a little.” He holds up his fingers and then laughs.
