All eyes, even Elyse’s, turned to her. Corin jolted a bit, seeming to awaken from whatever thoughts had entranced her. She furrowed her brow at the sudden attention and asked, “Your parents never told you stories about Jojo and Tut before bed?”
They each shook their heads. Corin looked to Nina, pleading for her to understand the reference, but Nina gave her a light shrug.
“They were these silly stories about Jojo, a big goofy dog with floppy ears and no brains, and a pigeon named Tut, who was cunning and swift. You see, Jojo wanted to catch Tut, so he would chase him around and concoct these elaborate schemes. But the stories all ended the same—Tut was always one step ahead of Jojo. He tricked him and got away every time.”
Manny stared at her. “So we’re Jojo? A big dumb dog chasing a bird?”
Corin bit her lip, likely realizing her analogy wasn’t a happy one. “The stories weren’t about JojocatchingTut. He’ll never catch him. It’s about their ongoing rivalry, about Tut taunting Jojo, letting him get so close before spoiling his plans. Because that’s when it’s most satisfying, when Jojo thinks he’s finally got Tut in his clutches, only to realize he doesn’t.” Her expression sobered as she added, “That’s how Lazarus sees it.”
Silence fell over them. Killian felt dread settle in his stomach, like curdled milk. His friends’ faces were equally as melancholy.
“Sorry…” Corin said, her hands fidgeting. No one else seemed to know what to say as they basked in the discomfort.
“Maybe we should go back to Levoy,” Sera suggested. “Sweep the area for clues, help the wounded—”
“No,” Elyse interrupted.
The dread in Killian’s core was swiftly replaced with agitation. “No?”
“No,” she repeated. “There won’t be any clues, and I’ve done enough helping.”
Manny gaped at her. “But people were hurt. Homes were destroyed.”
“And it’s a big city with plenty of resources,” Elyse countered. “I have to return home and get new supplies, since mine were lost. Besides, Killian and I have the card game tonight.” She waved her hand over her tea, which was now a soft shade of amber. It ceased its steaming.
“We had an agreement,” Killian began, but Elyse had already picked up the mug and was walking away.
“This is not a discussion,” she said as she shouldered open the swinging door.
Killian was off his stool and chasing her through the main room in an instant. He didn’t care about the stares he collected as he called after her. Elyse remained unnervingly calm as she swiftly made her way outside.
“Listen to me, dammit!” he growled as he followed her out the front door. When she didn’t turn, he gripped her upper arm and spun her to face him. Her tea splashed down the front of her shirt and trousers.
When she looked up at him, there was murder in her eyes. “You spilled my tea.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your tea,” he shouted back at her. “We had an agreement, and now you’re reneging. You’ve been a brat all week, and last night you left your closest friends to die.”
He couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of him. He felt crazed, his heart hammering and his palms sweating. But it was cathartic to confront her, to tell her exactly how difficult and awful she was being.
Elyse chucked the mug to the ground, shattering it on the dirt. She flung a ball of fire at Killian’s legs, and he leapt out of the way—right in time for Elyse to swing her foot and knock his feet from under him. As his back slammed into the dirt, she pounced on him, her dagger at the ready. He felt its cool metal pressing against his throat.
Killian froze. The ire in Elyse’s eyes had tripled, something he hadn’t thought possible. He couldn’t breathe for the dagger’s blade against his neck, too afraid any movement would pierce him.
Elyse leaned down until her face was nearly touching his. “I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate,” she hissed.
She smiled a grisly, menacing smile, and Killian hated her for it. He hated that even when she was vile, she was beautiful. Even when she was wretched, he longed for her company. Even when she was everything he had believed her to be, before he had gotten to know her, he still couldn’t stand how much he loved her.
“You don’t have to go to Levoy,” he said weakly, careful not to move too much. “Can you please remove the dagger from my throat?”
“No.”
Killian flared his nostrils. It was the only movement he could manage. “Fine. But you should know, you’ve become exactly what you feared.”
Elyse furrowed her brows, confusion flashing in her eyes. Then her anger blossomed again as she pushed the dagger into his skin, drawing blood. “What do you mean?”
Killian grimaced as he felt the blood trickle down his neck. “You told me you’re afraid you’re part demon—that you’re truly Lazarus’s daughter.” He wanted to laugh but didn’t chance it. “Thisis what you were afraid of. Being a spineless, selfish wretch who tramples over others and cares for no one.”
He knew it was risky to say it, that she could very well slice that dagger into his throat and end him right then—the Blade of Hanael be damned. But he couldn’t help himself.
