Page 121 of Devoured

He blinks at that. “So?”

“So I was never in the habit of loitering for friends at the middle school. Let’s go.” I pivot on my heel, heart thundering against my ribs, and lead him away from the coffee shop. Away from town. Away from the police station and the high school entirely.

I don’t know what I’m doing. “Your father or your friends.” I press a clammy hand to my stomach.

It’s an impossible choice. It’s a choice I can’t make. Yet, if I don’t make it, someone else will die. Cora will maim. And kill. And punish. And once she’s done hacking through the castle, she’ll hack through this city, this state, this continent—then the rest of the world. Blood rushes in my ears as hot guilt blisters beneath my skin. I can barely force myself to keep walking.

“Your father or your friends.”

There has to be another solution. Please, I think helplessly. Please.

Evander continues whistling. He crosses the street without waiting for the light to turn red, and a bicycle nearly runs him down on the corner. Furious, throwing a middle finger in the air, the biker rings his bell. Evander just glares at him from the other side of the road. “What an asshole.”

I cross the street only after the light is red. “You just walked into traffic.”

“The cars stopped.”

I shake my head and march past him. Oaks line the winding sidewalk, leading us deeper and deeper into the suburbs. Evander has no idea where he is, or that we aren’t close to completing Cora’s assignment.

Pausing mid-stride, he stops at a black streetlamp and points to the flyer taped to its base. “Well, look at that. Certainly a more favorable portrait than he deserves.” He looks over his shoulder at me with a smirk, beckoning with two fingers for me to join him.

I trudge toward him, scowling. “What?”

“You’re in a terrible mood.”

“Yes,” I snap. “Obviously.”

Evander turns around and flicks a finger against the flyer. I glance at it.

On stark white paper, bold red letters declare: LUCA THOMPSON MISSING.

But it isn’t a random Luca I see in the photograph below that. It’s Luca. The werewolf who tortured me in the dungeon. The werewolf who bit Celeste.

A full-body photo of him hugging and kissing a small dachshund, appearing almost a full year younger than he does now, has smeared into a blotchy mess from the sun and rain. Beneath a phone number and a short description, Luca’s brother offers a $2,000 reward for Luca’s return. It’s all the money he claims to have.

My heart stutters. Stops. Shame and anger war within me. Because Luca was once just like Celeste. He was a boy Cora must have stolen from his home, his family. And now he is a monster.

I glance away from the flyer, toward the sun, letting the burning rays dry the start of my tears. “Who cares?”

Evander shrugs. Then he continues his long strides, leading us up the suburban street. He hums now, a song I’ve never heard, while purposely stepping on all the cracks in the sidewalk.

He might be one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met. And for now, I’m stuck with him.

“How are we supposed to bite humans and then take them back with us?” I ask. “Cora didn’t even give us a car.”

He nods as if in contemplation. “We’re strong. We can carry them.” His gaze flicks to mine, and he grins again. “Or we can drag their limp bodies behind us while they kick and scream. Sometimes that’s fun.”

I growl. “You’re disgusting.”

“We are supernatural, Vanessa.” He sighs before gesturing to an abandoned bench in front of a pond. Overgrown weeds tangle with its legs. “Would you rather I sit on the street corner and weep? It won’t change anything, and you know that. So do me a favor and try to turn those lemons you’re always sucking into lemonade.”

I contemplate pushing him into traffic. “What kind of lemonade can you make out of either turning my father into a werewolf or attacking my old high school?”

“Most people watch their parents die.” He whirls abruptly, rounding on me and stepping into my path. “Do you know what it’s like to see something like that? To watch people disintegrate into nothing? To watch families fall into the pit of grief and never climb out again? You could gift your father magic, live with him inside a castle, and expand his lifespan by almost a hundred years.”

“If we survive. If we don’t die. If Cora doesn’t make me kill him as punishment with my goddamned powers.” I list each if off on my fingers, my claws growing in their wake. “That’s all this is. She’s torturing me. She’s proving she has total control, and I have none.”

“Well, yes. Obviously.” Evander raises a brow. “If you stopped fighting her, you’d have a better chance at survival.”