I sat up. “So we never save her?”
Future Lucy laughed, sounding exhausted. “Heavenly Hell, you don’t listen. Did you not hear a word Cato told you?”
“Did you?” I countered. “You’re here when you shouldn’t be.”
“I’m here because of you!” she bellowed, getting in my face.
“You do try to save her and all of Hell with Praetrevado, and guess what, Lucy? Death takes his retribution.” The last sentence drained all the energy from her.
“Retribution how?”
Her gaze glazed over as she traced the scar on her neck. She dropped her hand, inhaled, and met my eyes.
“In a few days, they’ll come. You need to get everyone in the right headspace, including Ronen.”
“I—”
“Lucille.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “If you want someone to blame, then blame Lucifer.” She stepped closer. “But if you blame Lucifer, then you’d have to blameus—for forcing him to do it.”
“What?”
“I told you. I’ve been fixing your mistakes. Lucifer and I made a runed deal. He didn’t know who I was—but I promised he’d be with his cordistella again if he met my demands.” Her eyes hardened. “One of them was threatening Ronen into silence. It was the only way.”
I looked at the turning, twisting flames of our power. The only light in whatever this was… a dream-walk? Maybe. My head hurt too much to care with all the twists and turns in my life.
Wethreatened Ronen’s safety. I did.
But couldn’t he have said something? Done something…
He did, I realized. Or tried to. He had banned me from using my powers with Alexei. And I’d used them anyway.
Future Lucy shook her head, sadness glossing her eyes. “You keep blaming everyone except the one person who’s responsible. She made her choice. And because of it, you’re losing precious time with someone who’d remake the world for you.”
I dropped my head, a lump tightening my throat.
“You have most of the pieces to beat Melanie,” she continued. “You just need to put them together. And on the night of the battle—if everything works the way I’ve been planning—you’ll come to me for the final pieces.”
Once she blipped out of my head, I opened my eyes. Oliver pressed against my side, snoring softly with his mouth wide open and hot morning breath drifting into my nose.
I thought about waking him, then remembered Anya’s words about Melanie’s power and closed my eyes again just to be safe.
What’s Oliver dreaming about?
Somnivado took me to…my bed?
I was expecting something more extravagant or wild—not Oliver dreaming about himself sleeping.
“He’s going to love this.”
Sam walked through the bedroom door wearing an apron that matched the red-and-black floral wallpaper—and only an apron—carrying a plate of lemon bars and a steaming cup of coffee.
That made more sense.
Before dream-Sam decided to remove that apron and join us in bed, I jammed my finger, ever so nicely, into Oliver’s side. His snores cut off, and he jerked awake. Thankfully, Sam blipped out of existence.
“That was highly uncalled for,” Oliver grumbled, resettling into the red and black throw pillows.
“I’ll do it again if you don’t wake up,” I warned. Or… at least wake up in this dream.
