“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all. Now, type in your name.”
Lincoln Taylor, I type out, and she giggles again.
“Are you laughing at my name?”
“I just see you as Lynx. You have a very basic surname.” She’s quiet for a bit while I watch her, then she tips her head. “Are you a Scottish entrepreneur?”
I look down at the screen to see a graying man in glasses with no hair. “No.”
“Are you”—she flicks her finger on the screen so the words move—“a sixty-year-old mechanic from Washington?”
“I’m dead too. If that helps,” I say.
There’s silence, and I want to slap myself for ruining the mood.
But then Sable gives me a slight smile. “Me too. Thanks to you.”
More silence. I clear my throat, blink a few times, then she sighs. “Do you even regret killing me?”
My head snaps up. “Of course I do. You shouldn’t be trapped here with me. If I didn’t snap your neck, then we probably wouldn’t be stuck together.”
Her shoulder lifts slightly. “I just… you’ve never said it, so I just assumed you had no regrets and liked that you ended my life.”
I’ve never been great at curbing my impulses, and after being tortured for centuries, I reacted out of pure learned behavior. “Do you want an apology?”
“Do you want to give me one?”
“It wouldn’t make much difference. You’re dead because of me. There’s nothing more unforgivable, and I’m not made to feel remorse anymore. I feel bad, yes, and I regret it, but I don’t have it in me to apologize for something like that. It would be words falling on deaf ears.”
“I’d accept an apology,” she says quietly.
I flatten my lips. Sometimes this specter feels like mist but hits like a blade. It would just be words. Words I can’t do anything about.
Plus, this, whatever is going on, is temporary. Because she’s dead. I’m a demon. We belong in two different worlds. This curse will break eventually.
I stand, straightening my spine. “Don’t hold your breath.”
Sable frowns. “What just happened?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I leave her sitting there full of confusion, my own stupidity eating away at me because why did I think having a civil, normal conversation with her would be a good idea? I can’t get close. I can’t allow myself to feel whatever’s clawing at my fucking chest right now.
The door slams as soon as I get into my room, and that’s when I allow myself to close my eyes and drop my head into my hands.
21
Sable
There’s been a shift.
It’s hard to pinpoint how exactly, or what caused it, but I think it has something to do with acceptance.
I’ve got that I’m dead. I know that I’m stuck here—despite not wanting to be. But mainly, it’s Lynx. I realize now I don’t hate him.
I know what real hatred feels like, and that’s not what I feel when I think about him anymore. Rage? Sure. Annoyance? Irritation? Loathing? Absolutely.
Longing?
