They creep across the earth, tangling in my limbs as he rips me off my feet.
“I did everything!” he shouts. “I was nice to you! I didn’t touch you! I read these stupid books you love so much!” Darkness bleeds over his face, consuming the light behind his eyes. “I punished St. Grey! I took care of deacon! And now I will take care of Cross, and you will be mine!”
His voice pitches lower, almost thunderous, as his words rumble through the clearing.
“You will be mine,” he snaps. “Because I deserve it.”
My breath hitches, and my jaw cracks as his shadows pry my teeth apart, wrenching my mouth open.
“It’s okay, Iris. I know how to make you love me.”
The vial tips, blue-green liquid slipping down my throat as I thrash.
It’s hot, burning to the point my eyes begin to water and my throat starts to close. My limbs heat as the potion moves through me, and I know what should come next. A sweet haze of affection, an itching desire to look at him, and a dying need to say his name. But that’s not what happens.
Instead, the pain spreads, easing down my limbs and bleeding into my chest where it grows.
My body goes limp as he drops me to the earth, and my breathing turns to shallow, desperate breaths as the fog of pain consumes me.
“No! That’s impossible!” Covington shouts. “That’s not fair! It was perfect! Perfect!”
I’m not sure what he’s screaming about. I don’t care anymore. Because while he idles over me, crying about what is fair, there’s a face forming beside me. An angular face with nothing but sorrow in his eyes.
“Hi, Woods,” I greet him, voice shuddering.
“Hey, Iris,” he answers, quieter than usual.
I almost want to curse him and tell him to go away. Tell him I never want to see his face again. But I know he’s only doing his job.
“Coming to collect?” I ask.
He nods in my periphery.
“Busy these days,” I say, as if we’re speaking of something more ordinary and not the grave matter of life and death.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I guess I can thank you for that.”
I shrug. Or at least, I try to.
Whatever Covington gave me is working fast, and I can’t really feel my arms anymore.
“What can I say?” I mutter. “I try to do my part to keep the balance.”
Woods chuckles dryly, and I would laugh too if I could. But I’m pretty sure there’s blood pooling in my mouth from the poison.
Covington is too absorbed in his tantrum to notice me speaking. Even if he could, he probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.
I doubt he can see Woods. Not unless he’s had the great displeasure of witnessing death firsthand. I wish I could say I haven’t. But I’ve known Woods since the day my mother died.
“You here for me?” I ask.
“You know I don’t know,” Woods says. “I just go where the Reaper’s Guild sends me.”
I nod. I know, but I like to ask anyway. Although I’m not sure I even need to ask this time. Covington’s potion has reached my heart, and I can feel it slowing as we speak. It’s too late for me.
“If it’s any consolation,” he says. “I really hope I’m not here for you.”
“Thanks, Woods. It’s not.”
