“All of which came from assumptions thatyoumade. I simply watched you then provided you with an alternative place to go. You seem to be the one assigning frivolous meaning to those things.”
I hate him. I fuckinghatehim. I know I can’t possibly make him understand how devastating all of this has been for me, but his total indifference stings all the same.
He’s right, though. I built him up in my imagination as my beacon of hope when in reality, he’s just some fucked up, dangerous creature who enjoyed following me.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I stare out the window into the darkness beyond. I wish I could cry, but the only emotion that seems capable of breaking through my numbness is the visceral hatred I have for him in this moment.
“So, what happens if I don’t agree to your deal?” I ask.
“Then you’ll be stuck here for a very, very long time… Or, “he adds casually, glancing down at my wrists, “I could simply finish the job you failed to complete.”
Fucking prick.
I may have tried to kill myself, but I’ll be damned if I give a man the satisfaction of taking my life. If nothing else, spite will keep me alive, at least until I’m out of his grasp.
Still, the threat of him killing me hangs in the air between us. He may be an asshole of the highest degree, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s dangerous. Invisible power radiates from him even now, as he eats his dinner without a care in the world.
“And if I agree to it? How long would it be?”
“As long as it takes you to collect the number of years I ask from you. That part is up to you.”
“How many years are you wanting me to get?”
“Five hundred.”
Fivehundred? “That’s a joke, right?”
His stony expression answers my question before he speaks. “Not a joke. Realistically, depending on the age and health of those you target, you could be done with that in a month.”
I stare at him and contemplate my choices, not that I really have any. I’m stuck either way.
“You’re asking me to profit off people’s deaths,” I say. “Do you realize how fucked up that is to someone who still has their humanity and a moral compass?”
“I’m not asking you to profit off of taking others’ lives. I’m giving you the chance to save your own.”
Silence stretches between us as the wheels in my mind spin furiously. Eventually, I give him the answer he’s waiting for.
“Fine. Tell me everything I need to know.”
Ambrose insists on cleaning up dinner before explaining the finer details of the bargain to me, and each minute that passes feels like I’m one step closer to signing away my soul. I’m festering in anxiety by the time he’s finished washing the dishes, though I don’t bother offering to help.
“This is the key to everything,” he says, gently placing his necklace on the table between us. “It absorbs the lifespans and channels them to me, like I told you earlier.”
“But what about when I’m using it? Would it not affect me instead?”
“It will still work the same way regardless of who uses it. This stone is bound to me through life and death.”
It’s obviously important to him from the gentle way he holds it and the way he speaks almost reverently about its power. It sits between us, absorbing the yellow overhead light rather than reflecting it, pulsing with the same sort of energy I imagine a black hole would have. I wonder what would happen if I threw it against the wall.
“There is a chance that some of its magic could transfer to you while you’re wearing it, though,” he says, dragging my thoughts back to the present.
This piques my interest. “What do you mean?”
“With this stone, I am able to channel some—” he considers his words “—powers, I suppose. Not magic like you see in the movies, but subtle supernatural abilities. You may have figured it out by now, but I’m able to change others’ awareness of me. Not in the way of changing my appearance, but making it so that I avoid perception. Conversely, I can attract the attention of a roomful of people if I so choose.”
“So that’s why you seemed to disappear so easily when I’d look for you.”
“Yes.”
