“No actual promises,” she responds quietly. “But I’m thinking I no longer have a choice. More surprisingly, I don’t even want one.”
I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh. “While I prefer a promise, I’ll take what I can get.”
“Would running even get me anywhere?”
“All running does is make me more intent on getting you.”
The smile falls from her face, that worry line back on her brow. “And what if you couldn’t find me?”
Releasing her hands, I step back fully, darkness settling over me at the thought. “I would burn the whole damn world down to find you.”
At first, I think my confession is going to upset her. But after a few moments, her expression shifts into one of peace. “Can you tell me what you know?”
I nod, then motion back to the stable with my head as I say, “Go say you’re sorry to Seamus for startling him, and then I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Oh, poor Seamus,” she responds as she immediately starts walking in the direction of the stables. I watch her go for a moment before turning toward the kitchen, grabbing us both a snack and a cold brew before walking back to the sitting area to wait for her. I hear her in the stables crooning lovingly to the disgruntled horse.
I can’t help but smile. I’ll never forget the call I got from Cami telling me she was a proud new owner of a pony. She was ridiculously pleased, though also conflicted, given the fact that the man who had gifted it to her was still in question. Not that Cami ever thought for a second that they wouldn’t end up together, but there was certainly some question on the timeline.
Soon, Vivian reappears, and after stopping at the kitchen sink to wash her hands, she settles beside me on the sofa. She turns to face me, smiling gratefully as I hand her a drink. She places one socked foot on my lap. I glance down and ask, “Where are your shoes?”
“I left them by the door. You know, to save on some of the mess.”
I grunt, a bit disgruntled that it never occurred to me. “Probably a good idea.”
She hides her smile behind her drink, looks at me, and asks, “How did you know how I like my coffee?”
“Don’t fuckin’ ask me,” I reply shortly. “Randomly put some sweet cream nonsense in my cart with no explanation.”
“I’m impressed. I think more people need this otherworldly bond to silently convey the important, tiny details that everyone misses.”
I laugh; I can’t help it. “It sounds good in theory. But I don’t think the general population is at all prepared for that.”
She settles back against the arm of the sofa so she’s facing me fully. “So, what do I need to know?”
“Why don’t you start by telling me what youdoknow?”
She presses her lips together for a moment and then nods as she responds, “It’s not so much that I know anything. It’s more of a feeling. A nagging suspicion.”
“A nagging suspicion of…”
“That I was missing something. That everything I thought I knew was false.”
I watch her silently, wanting to smooth the slight furrow in her brow, but also knowing that her troubles run deeper than the surface level. That’s what living in the wrong truth does to people, regardless of whether they’re human, demon, or anything in between. An authentic existence is the only comfortable truth.
I give her a few moments to collect her thoughts and then ask, “Why don’t you tell me what you saw today at the compound?”
“But I saw what you saw.”
I shake my head, turning my body so one bent leg rests on the sofa cushions. I pull her sock from her foot, both hands squeezing and then my fingers caressing absentmindedly. “But that’s just it. We don’t see the same thing.”
“Then tell me why they all look the same.”
“Who looked the same?”
“All the men at the table,” she replies hurriedly. “They all have the same face, like some messed-upMatrixbullshit.”
“I can assure you they don’t.”
