Kas crosses his arms. “Well, I don’t. For one thing, I love people. Lots of people over lots of centuries. Sure, I also fucked them, but those aren’t mutually exclusive. Sometimes they are. But like, Tim… bad example–Chanel! I love her.”
“She doesn’t strike me as your type.”
“My type is very fluid, but you know that’s not what I mean.” My confusion must be plain to see because Kas elaborates, “If something bad were to happen to her, I would feel bad–devastated even. That’s part of love.”
Maybe. When I look at Minnie, I do feel some sort of love. I know it’s not purely lust. Seeing her dance with someone else made me feel all sorts of things: envy and rage and maybe a touch of broken pride. That can’t be the components of love. I think about Richard and how he wants his old lover to run back to his arms, to desire no one else. I want Minnie–but not like that. I want her to choose me. I want her to be able to desire others and still choose me. I want her to wake up next to me and smile at me like it’s our first morning, over and over again.
I shake my head. “I’ve seen plenty of devils get upset over their coffers being burgled or a paramour scorning them in favor of another. That can’t be love.”
I’ll suffocate her with my greed until she’s hollow, or we’ll bicker until we hate each other. Nevermind her still wanting to make a deal and give up her spirit, thetruething I admire most about her.
“Well, whatever it is, I hope it was worth that mess at the museum.” He pulls his phone out again and makes a gagging sound. “I don’t even want to guess how the news is spinning this. Maybe something escaped Belle Isle–nope, not thinking about it!”
Minnie’s face, draining of color, rests behind my eyes.
“Not thinking about it…” I grumble.
* * *
Hours pass.Kas and I both discard our jackets and neck bows. I also toss out my frilly shirt, the white permanently marred by blood. I crack open a book while Kas paces up and down the shelves, both of us occasionally sneezing and coughing. In the long term, I wonder if simple juniper can do me any real harm. I search the books for an answer, but I can only find information on healing, physically and spiritually.
Kas yawns. “When can we leave?”
“You can leave whenever you like. I’m staying.”
He groans and leaves for the door. “I’ll be back; I need fresh air.”
The bell on the door chimes cheerfully yet feels ominous. A few moments later, the woman who met us at the door appears from the stairwell. I glance at her over my book before going back to reading about mugwort.
“You are a very strange devil.”
“So I’ve been told…” I shut the book. “However, I disagree. I’m right in assuming you’ve never met a devil before me. So how would you know if I’m as strange as I seem?”
She chuckles and smiles at me, an act that, much like the bell, feels foreboding. “You’re correct. I only know of devils through stories, same as fae and angels.”
“And demons?”
“Unlike the rest, demons never stopped arriving on this Plane. Unfortunately, I’ve dealt with many demons.”
“How do they compare to devils?”
Shetsks.“Your little show at the museum makes that a hard question to answer. People are dead.” She glares at me as if I killed them myself, then keeps staring like she’s expecting me to say something.
“People do tend to die,” I point out. “Pretty universally.”
Her eyes shut, and she hums to herself, the magical objects in the room humming as well.
“Who are you, anyway?” I ask.
“You will call me Madame Albe during our short time together.”
I lift a brow, and the bell on the door sings again. Three women walk inside, all different shapes and sizes, all dressed in bright dresses. They walk in a line and fall behind Madame Albe. I try to catch their gazes, but each woman looks away from me before we can connect.
“Rosier,” Madame Albe speaks my name like I’m already dead. “We do not condone bloodshed within our ranks. Do not make us act against you.”
I set the book on the shelf behind me. “So you gathered your friends to do what? Braid my hair?”
“We’re going to send you back.” She hides her hands, and I wonder which one of the three women is armed. I’ve yet to see any brutal displays of magic from anyone, but a knife would cut me all the same.
