“Even if they made it out of the forest, he’s probably stuck like that,” Cliff said with an unbearably neutral tone, like he was talking about nothing more than another enemy who hadn’t existed to him before tonight. But his jaw was ticking, and the silence was spreading like a gulch between us until he broke it. “If he’d walked out of that van, I would’ve had to kill him.”
“Would you have preferred that?”
“No big difference either way, is it?” He swallowed hard. “He’s practically dead. I mean… I’m happy about it, obviously.” Another beat, and he frowned like he was confused, blinking hard. “I should be happy. Right?”
I wavered, words elusive as I was slammed back into how I felt when my father died.No, don’t avoid it—when Ikilledhim.The guilt sat with me day after day in the psych ward. No one believed the truth, of course. They were so focused on correcting my outlandish claims about a ghost that I didn’t have room to process what I’d done. Yes, my father was dead. But it ultimately meant the rogue spirit was gone and couldn’t hurt anyone else.
ShouldIhave been happy about that?
“You can’t force yourself to feel one way or the other,” I told Cliff quietly.
Anger flickered in his eyes. “If I’m not glad he got what was coming to him, then I’m as much of a fucking traitor as I pretended to be.”
“He’s your dad. No one would blame you for feeling—”
“Feelingwhat? Sorry for him? For myself?” He chuckled sardonically, his breathing heavy. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to feel it. He is—was—a goddamn monster, and there’s enough of him in me that evenSylvthought I was turning my back on everyone.”
Face set with pain, he started to step back, but I surged forward and pulled him into an embrace. He was so rigid for a second that I thought he would push me away, but after a second, he gave in with a heavy shudder.
“You’re here with us,” I reminded him, a quaver in my voice. “You chose us. Feel however you want about what happened, but you’rehere.”
We stayed like that for a minute, and I felt the wetness on my shoulder where Cliff’s face was buried. I let my head rest against his, the solidity of him easing the lingering horror of pulling the trigger that shapeshifter that had stolen his face. The very image of that lifeless corpse gazing up at me from the hotel floor made me squeeze my arms a little tighter around Cliff. As we stepped apart, he hastily wiped his face, not lookingfineby any stretch, but a little less haunted.
He managed a smirk. “And what the hell were you up to when everything was going down? Felt like you set off a goddamn bomb in the basement.”
“That’s a lot to explain.” My chuckle tapered off when my gaze caught on one of the windows behind him. I went perfectly still. “What the hell?”
Just over an hour ago, I had been outside to check the perimeter of the building, and now it was as though the house had been placed in a different environment entirely. The snow had melted, replaced with bursts of fresh foliage all over, unnatural colors caught by the interior lights of the house. Birds swooped through the air, glittering in the moonlight.
Cliff stiffened as he followed my gaze, eyes widening in understanding. “Sylv was with us the whole time. How the fuck did she manage to grab a—”
“She didn’t.” I shoved my hand into my pocket and held out a few gems I’d managed to steal. Some had been lost in the shuffle of losing my jacket, and I had been doubtful to snag a working one in the first place. I didn’t even mention it to Sylvia yet. I wouldn’t have been able to bear getting her hopes up for another disappointment after everything she’d been through.
But I’d fuckingdone it.
My breathing turned shallow. “Where is she?”
Cliff was all but stammering, his eyes wide as he scanned the foliage, the weight of what I held in my hand sinking in. “Downstairs with the others.”
25
Sylvia
“You know my birthday already passed, right?” I asked, trying to salvage the braids Zia had been halfway through finishing in my tousled hair. I kept my eyes shut as per Jon’s request, reminded far too much of the other night.
“Think of it as your birthweek,” he said, holding his hands steady as he carried me upstairs.
“If we’re going outside, could I at least grab something warmer? It’s almost two in the morning!”
“What, I’m not warm enough for you?”
I giggled, and the sound almost felt wrong. But a strange energy was buzzing around me more than ever. I must have really been on the fritz after the night I had, and Jon’s odd behavior wasn’t helping me settle in the slightest.
After the trauma we’d endured, after knowing we could never return to the spectral realm if we didn’t want to send him to an early grave… How could he possibly be in such a damn good mood?
Managing a small peek, I noticed that we were heading toward a glass door that led outside. I braced myself as Jon took hold of the handle. However, the bite of cold I expected never came. If anything, the air felt almost balmy.
“You can open your eyes,” Jon said softly.
