“It followed Rosier’s command.”
She nods. “Good, good. Then it’s not your fault.”
The pain in my shoulder is replaced by a tightness in my chest. “Amber, what happened? I don’t remember much after I got stabbed.”
Lance’s head pops up from behind Amber’s shoulder. “Maybe wait ‘til you’re healed–”
Amber ignores Lance’s plea. “The Devil you summonedmighthave killed a le Fay. People are dead. That’s all the news is reporting right now.”
I touch the leaves on my shoulder, ruminating on the fact I could have been one of those people as well.
“Not a lot of people,” Lance assures me.
“So there aren’t four le Fay corpses on the steps of the Institute of Art?” Lance and Amber are silent, though both their mouths hang open. “Shame.”
“Minnie!”
“They deserve to die, Amber! Don’t tell me you disagree.”
“I do. I do disagree on a matter of principle. Killing the le Fays won’t solve any–”
“Bullshit.”
“Listen to yourself!” She’s right in my face now. “What will killing Arthur le Fay change? It won’t bring your Mom back. It won’t bring back any of the people he killed. He must have a backup plan in case he dies, some spell to keep him alive.”
“No.” I start to shake my head, but the tension from the stitches stops me. “No, he’s not immortal. Not even close.” I lean over to get a better look at Lance. “You were right. He’s not nearly as powerful as he thinks he is.”
Lance grimaces. “Somehow, being right in this instance doesn’t feel so great.”
I hear a familiarmurp,and a silky black coat comes into view at the end of the bed. Leaf trots over to sit in my lap. I hold his head in my hands, rubbing his cheeks with my thumbs. As happy as I am to see him, I know we’re nowhere near my apartment.
“What’s going on?” I ask, though I’m focused on Leaf, his eyes closed in contentment.
“You can’t stay here, Minnie,” Amber informs me in a grave tone. I keep petting Leaf between his ears. “The le Fays have every reason to go after you now. Not just them, either. If any other covens find out what you did, they’ll want answers. And let's be real, your reasoning for summoning two devils isn’t very great.”
“Three,” I correct. “I summoned an imp, too.”
I don’t have to look at Amber’s face to know the exact expression she’s making, the face she uses to try and hide how angry she actually is. She’s always careful not to be too angry, too sad, or too much of anything that could get her in trouble. We used to check each other in school, remind each other the world isn’t ready to really see us.
I want to shake that little girl and scream in her face, tell her there is no reward for being good for the sake of everyone and everything, tell her that she should scream and kick and cry–that she should make the world uncomfortable. It’s too late for that child, just like it’s too late for me.
“Where would you even send me?” I raise my head.
“Divination isn’t perfect,” Lance explains. “With some protective wards, if you keep your head down, no one should be able to find you.”
Amber continues, “The sponsor for wayward supernaturals is already setting things up for you up in Ontario. We packed your stuff–”
“You went through my things?”
“That’s what you’re gonna object to?” she scoffs. “Us rummaging through your stuff?”
“I object to all of it. I’m not going to hide out for the next ten years and then die in a snowbank in a place you can only find with coordinates.”
Amber throws up her hands. “I can’t have this conversation.” She steps away, going off into a corner of the room with her arms crossed.
Lance inches toward me. “Minerva, be smart about this. Is dying here really better than… dying anywhere else?”
“Where’s Rosier?” The question comes out of nowhere, but once it’s said, it can’t be undone. If these two have already made plans for how to deal with me, no doubt the coven has plans for him. “Where is he?” I press.
