Kitty
This is everyone we could find.
The attachments come in one at a time, each picture a page of about ten names. In total, the list is much longer than I expected. There are at least forty people here, with demon-blood quantum ranging from 50% all the way to 2%.
I only recognize a few names as I scroll. None of which hold any significance to me.
Tara’s name is notably absent. Not that I was still entertaining the idea of her falsifying her own blackmail, but it would be irresponsible not to check.
Surprisingly, Deacon is not listed either.
I read through the entire list as quickly as I can, and I’m prepared to give up as I reach the last page, but then it catches my eye.
Sitting at the very bottom of the last attachment are the words “Covington St. James - 12%.”
I scramble with the buttons, flicking through the screens, and aiming for Dame’s number. But as I lift the phone to my ear, a voice speaks from a shadowed corner of the living room.
“Hello, Iris,” it says. “Put the phone down.”
Chapter31
I Love You
ELLIOT
“Mr. Cross.”
I’m getting sick of this room. I think the oddly sour scent is starting to cling to me.
“Mr. Cross?”
Iris probably won’t like it if I smell like old shoes all the time.
“Mr. Cross, are you listening to my words at all?”
No. I’m not.
I’m too busy replaying the hers. Over and over, they ring in my ears like a never-ending song, burying the world around me in static until she is all I can hear. It’s all I heard as my hands were bound behind my back. It’s all I heard as they led me back to my holding room. And it’s all I hear now, even as the inquisitor sits before me, tapping his pen along the old wooden desk.
I love you.
I’ve only heard them once before. From Jeff, on my thirteenth birthday. And if I’m honest, I never expected to hear them again.
But I don’t remember it feeling like this. I don’t remember it feeling like anything at all.
But each time I replay the image of her soft lips muttering against mine, just quiet enough for me to catch, I feel lightheaded, and my vision starts to blur.
I didn’t say the words back.
I probably should have, but I don’t want to lie to her anymore. When I say them, I want them to be true. Right now, I’m about as close as I can get, but one day, I will, and when I do, there will be no doubt in her mind that what I say is true.
“Mr. Cross.”
The inquisitor’s voice is dull in my ears as I continue to listen to the melody playing at the back of my mind. He’s been talking for some time. I figured he would stop eventually, but he’s got a motor, it seems.
“You know, we have a bet here,” he says. “About how long it would take you to snap. I’m up six hundred drac because of you. Most folks bet you’d crack in a few more years, but I knew you wouldn’t make it. You’ve developed a taste for it, haven’t you?”
He fidgets with his tie as he speaks. The knot is too tight around his throat, bloating his smug face, and he pries at it, desperate to loosen it.
