“Do I even want to know?”
He smirks. “Probably not. His news outlet already put out a statement warning about how dangerous Avids are and claiming this attack was entirely supernatural, a rogue Avid losing control and slaughtering innocent people.”
I burst out laughing. It’s a deranged, slightly hysterical laugh, and I quickly cover my mouth when I see the lopsided grin Malachi is giving me.
“That’s really rich coming from him. What a complete asshole,” I say, shaking my head before continuing. “The manwho kept me as his personal weapon is now warning people about dangerous Avids.”
“It’s not only that. He mentioned a new procedure they’re developing to ensure complete Avid compliance,” Malachi says.
I get up, feeling the sudden need to move and get some fresh air before I lose what’s left of my sanity. I head over to the sliding glass door and push it open, stepping out into the frigid night air.
We’re on the top floor of the hotel, and all I can see stretching out before me are dark skies that are surprisingly clear for this frozen wasteland. I can even make out actual stars twinkling through the sparse clouds drifting overhead.
Frost and snow cover the edges of the balcony and cling to the railing in delicate, crystalline patterns. I run my hand through a small pile of powdery snow that’s accumulated in the corner, letting the cold bite into my skin as I look up. Fresh snowflakes glitter down all around me like tiny diamonds, catching what little light filters up from the city below. Mish appears on the railing, tongue lolling out as she looks up at me, then twirls around a few times until she finds a good spot to settle down, making me smile.
Malachi comes out to stand beside me, already starting to shrug out of his suit jacket.
“No,” I say, stopping him mid-motion. “I want to feel the cold.”
I know Malachi doesn’t think tonight was my fault, but those spirits answered my call. Even if Meadow directed them after, I’m the one who tore down the Veil. I’m the one who screamed into the void. I wanted to save people tonight, and instead I became exactly what Marco always said I was, a demon. A killer. A weapon.
I can sit here and tell myself that no one in that ballroom was truly innocent, but does that mean they deserved to die?Does being complicit in an evil system warrant having your neck snapped? When did I become the kind of person who weighs human lives on a scale, deciding who gets to live and who gets to die?
The worst part is how torn I feel about it. Half of me is horrified by the bloodshed, replaying the sound of breaking bones and watching those bodies crumple to the floor. But there’s another part of me—a part that disturbs me—that feels satisfied. Relieved. Like maybe some kind of justice was finally served.
What kind of person does that make me?
The world feels so broken, so impossibly fucked up, and I feel like I’m drowning in the weight of it all. What started with my hunger to escape Marco’s control has spiraled into something so much bigger, so much more dangerous than I ever imagined. Now I’m standing in the middle of a war I didn’t ask to fight in with powers I can’t fully understand or control.
I want to save lives. I lie awake at night thinking about those labs, about the Avids and creatures being tortured behind closed doors, about the trafficking that still happens every day. I want to tear those places apart and set everyone free. But it’s more than that. I want to fix everything. I want children in the gutter zones to have enough food. I want people to stop being bought and sold like cattle. I want a world where someone like me doesn’t have to exist, where supernatural abilities aren’t something to be feared or weaponized.
But how can one person change an entire world? How can someone who can’t even control her own gift possibly take on centuries of systemic corruption and evil? Some days I feel like I’m a mouse trying to move a mountain, and the mountain keeps getting bigger while I get smaller.
I see a shooting star streak across the endless dark sky,burning bright before disappearing into nothing. And somehow, despite everything, it gives me a flicker of hope.
Maybe that’s all any of us can be. A brief light in the darkness, burning as bright as we can for as long as we can, hoping someone else will see it and remember that even in the worst of times, beautiful things can still exist.
“Hey, you. Where did you go just now?” Malachi’s fingers brush my arm before his hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me closer.
I rest my palm against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my hand. He holds my waist, eyes locked on mine as if he can read the thoughts swirling in my head—or at least I’m sure he wishes he could.
“I was thinking how overwhelming everything feels when I look at it on a grand scale.”
He brushes a few stray hairs from my face, then cups my cheek in his palm, grounding me in the way only he can. “Then stop looking at the world and keep your eyes on me. When it feels too big, remember you don’t have to face it alone anymore.”
“When this is all over, what do you think we’ll do?” I ask, focusing on the little gold flecks and starbursts scattered through his dark eyes like constellations I could get lost in.
“Sleep for a week. Maybe learn how to have normal problems, like arguing about what to have for dinner,” he says, his smile softening as he twirls a strand of my hair around his fingers.
“I’d like that. Normal sounds perfect,” I whisper, it tastes bittersweet.
Normal does sound perfect… and completely alien. I can barely remember what it feels like to worry about mundane things like grocery shopping or whether it will be cold outside. But somewhere deep down, I already know what neither of us wants to admit out loud. This will never really be over.
People like us don’t get to retire to quiet suburban lives. We don’t get white picket fences and Sunday morning pancakes. We’re too deep in this world of shadows and blood and supernatural politics to ever truly escape it.
But for now, standing here in his arms with snowflakes melting in my hair, I can pretend that someday we might.
Chapter Nineteen
