Aspen drilled holes into my face. “What’s wrong?”
I passed Aspen and ignored his whispered conversation with Alexei and Ronen. I just wanted to hold myself together for Oliver.
I brushed the strip of black bangs on his forehead. The mark he received from Marcus in his attempts to find her. He put his entire life on hold for her. He risked Elora, deals with Lucifer, betraying me, all for someone who I doubted gave a shit about him. My fingers traveled down to run over the rune still black and inked into his skin.
“Luce?” he mumbled sleepily.
Emotion welled in my voice. Thick. Wet. Loving. “Hey, Oli.”
It woke him up.
“What’s wrong?”
“We think Sam’s the evil mastermind behind the infection and has been playing us,” Alexei announced, ripping off the wrong bandage.
Oliver blinked, glanced at every face, landed on me, and my silence stole the pink from his cheeks. “You think it’s Sam?”
“It’s not.”
The words sat like daggers on my tongue. I wanted to keep them there, to sheath them, hide them, keep them far away from the goofy, loving heart I cherished. My fingers grazed the rune on Oliver’s wrist.
Oliver followed my line of sight, and I got to watch the light get sucked out of him.
“Melanie’s soul is inside Lucifer’s body,” I whispered. “She’s Lilith’s daughter, Anya’s sister, a powerful seer, and she’s eating away atLucifer’s essence while using his body to build the army that’s taking over Hell.”
Silence.
The rune faded to white with my words. In the worst, most horrifying way, my father completed their deal. He helped Oliver find Melanie.
“You’re wrong!” He scooted up his pillows, wincing as his thick, bandaged foot dragged up the bed. “She’s not a blood-witch! She’s not Lilith’s daughter!”
“Oli.” I touched his shoulder, and he slapped me away.
“No! She’s my sister!” Oliver yelled, eyes jolting with green flames.
“I dream-walked?—”
“Screw your dream-walks!” he screamed.
I flinched.
“You’re wrong,” he repeated, a little softer. “Right? Tell me you’re wrong, Lucy.” His glassy eyes pleaded with me.
None of us said anything. We didn’t have to.
Tears dropped silently onto his patient gown, each one slicing me open like a thousand cuts.
“I almost died for her,” he finally whispered.
“I know.”
“I gave up my life for her. I loved her that much.” His voice cracked, dragging tears from my eyes.
“I know.”
“How? How did it happen?” he demanded.
“She infected him at my mother’s funeral. And she hid it.” In fact, she hid it well. The dream-walks I’d had made more sense. “I had dream-walked to your sister twice before I saw her the third time,” I murmured. “The first time, she was talking to someone about making us pay. The second…” I swallowed, dread pooling in my stomach as I realized what the second was. Why it was so cold. Why the icy wind tugged on me like it needed help. I wasn’t in a cold grave. “Was of my father’s mind.”
