But more than that, I’m sure he sensed an impending death—mine—and couldn’t resist. Only instead of hastening the process, instead of devouring the little life spiraling toward extinction, he did the opposite. He carefully fed the flames, pushing energy, life force, whatever you want to call it, toward me, reinforcing and stabilizing with magic. Creating instead of destroying.
In that moment, I became Death’s child, Death’s spawn, to the very core of my being.
Genetically, DNA-wise or whatever, I might be Rick and Kelly Trelane’s offspring, but intertwined with every molecule, every double helix, is Death’s magic.
But there are always consequences when dealing with Death.
My mother returned to her hotel room, crawled into bed next to her sleeping spouse and thought nothing more about it. Until the next morning, when she woke to find her bleeding stopped and her husband cold and dead next to her.
Death has been part of me from the very beginning.
Yanking open the front door to the fraternity house, I welcome the icy wind that cuts through my clothes straight to my skin.
I have to get out of here. Away from… everyone. For their safety.
I hurry out onto the porch, jerking the door closed behind me.
At the top of the stairs, though, I stop, frozen mid-step, as the enormity of my new situation settles over me.
Where am I supposed to go? I don’t know where the War spawn is, what they’re up to. Who else might have arrived in town and just be waiting for their chance.
I can’t go back to Carter’s. Or Branwick, even if that were an option. Too much opportunity for collateral damage. Hundreds of innocent people whose only crime is being in proximity to me.
And if I run back home to Chicago—or anywhere, really—it’s the same problem. And the more places I go, the more people I’m putting in danger. If I try to hide, that will only tempt those seeking me out to hurt the ones I love.
If I stay, I can fight. Iwillfight, if I have to. But direct confrontation is not the only way this game is played. And I can’t beeverywhere at once. At Branwick, at Carter’s apartment, at—oh, God—Chessa’s parents’ house.
Fuck. I grip the railing on the side of the porch stairs until the cold metal burns my exposed palm. I’ve never felt so in over my head. Not even when I killed the first time on my own.
I don’t know what to do. No matter what choice I make right now, someone else may pay the price for it.
This,thisis why I didn’t want anything to do with the Old Ones.
The door creaks open behind me, and I tense up, glancing over my shoulder.
Devon steps out onto the porch, barefoot, still dressed in his sleeveless Theta Iota shirt.
“You’re going to freeze,” I say, turning back to face the ice-covered grass in the yard.
He moves to stand next to me, tucking his hands under his arms inside his shirt. “I run hot.”
Of course he does.
“I’m sorry,” Devon says after a moment. “I know this is not what you wanted.” He grimaces. “Mild understatement.”
A snort escapes me at the absurdity, and I clap a hand over my mouth, my eyes watering. I can’t tell if the tears are from laughter or… everything else.
“But I am familiar with what it feels like to have no control, no options,” he says quietly. “I would never wish that on anyone else, no matter how it benefited me.”
I look over at him, as if seeing him for the first time. The tension in his shoulders, the faint hints of dark circles under his eyes.
“When did you eat last?” he asks. “Food, I mean.”
Surprised by the question, I pause. “Last night, I think. I don’t even know what time it is now,” I admit. I’ve been running, literallyand figuratively, pretty much since the moment I opened my eyes this morning.
Devon pulls a phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and consults the screen. “A little before three.”
God, this has been the longest day of my life. Twenty-four hours ago, everything wasfine. A pang of mourning shoots through me—if magic is so great, why isn’t there a way to rewind time and live permanently in a moment before everything went to shit?
