Murderers shouldn’t blush.
“People lie all the time,” she repeats. “Getting shoved into the dirt teaches you all sorts of lessons.”
My mouth feels dry. I want to ask why she’s always getting shoved in the dirt. I want to know if she meant to kill all those people. I want to tell her Ireallywasn’t going to shove her into the dirt. I wasn’t lying.
The girl turns. The back of her black dress is still covered in dust. She storms off, not toward the other kids, but toward the tree I’d just used as a hiding place. It’s a solitary willow, rumored to be haunted. Harrison and I never believed it.
“Haunted,” I say. When the girl turns back, a scowl on her face, I struggle to elaborate. “The tree. Some people think it’s haunted. So, uh, be careful.”
“Don’t you know?” she asks. “I’m haunted too.”
With that, she storms across the field, arms stiff at her sides. Itisn’t until she’s reached the tree, until she’s curled up beneath it, that I realize I still don’t know her name. And now, inexplicably, I want to.
7
WHAT’S THE CATCH
CORA
Ispread a blanket on the couch, spending more time smoothing it than I need to. Once Elliot’s bed is ready, I’ll have to try for more information. If he still refuses, I’ll have nothing else to do but go to bed. There are extra wards over my bedroom, so at least I won’t have to worry about him killing me in my sleep.
You wouldn’t be worried anyway, my brain taunts me.
I ignore it. Tuck the blanket into the couch’s crease.
“You realize I’m just going to undo all that,” Elliot says from behind me.
He finally closed the door, but he still hasn’t moved from the entryway. I’m sure he’s expecting me to kill him, but there’s no point in trying to change his mind. This will—hopefully—be the last time we ever see each other.
I swallow over the knot in my throat.
“Did you get what you needed?” I ask.
“I don’t need anything,” is his immediate, sharp response. “I’m not drinking your tea. I don’t want food?—”
“In the Night Realm, Elliot,” I say, cutting him off. I resist theurge to roll my eyes at him and instead focus on his couch bed. I position a pillow at one end. His feet are going to dangle off the opposite side, but there’s nothing to do about that.
“It’s none of your concern,” he says. “What I do here?—”
“I need to ensure you don’t come back, so tell me what you need,” I say, looking at him. I work to keep my voice level, but it wavers. I only hope he doesn’t notice. “Assuming it’s not an act of war, I should be able to get it for you.”
He arches an eyebrow, watching me silently. He doesn’t believe me, and for good reason.
“Listen,” I say. “If the vampires know Madam Lyrie’s son is sniffing around our territory, they’re going to get freaked out. And once they get freaked out, they destroy anything that’s a threat.”
“You’re telling me youdon’twant my people destroyed?” he asks. Then pauses, considering. “Our people?”
“Your people. You had it right the first time,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t care about your people. I care aboutmypeople. And the more time wasted on you, the less time spent on things that actually matter.”
Elliot doesn’t immediately respond. He continues staring at me, and I can tell from his posture that he’s actively working not to fidget. His fingers give him away, just barely twitching at his thighs. All these years later, and I can still read him so easily. This would be easier if I couldn’t.
As he looks at me, regarding me as a stranger, anenemystranger, I wish I could see him the same way.
Instead, I am hit with a wild and dangerous nostalgia. The way he smells and talks. The way his mouth moves, slanting slightly to the right when he speaks. The way he sighs and shifts and…all of it.
I know him, far more than I’d like.
But that is my own punishment to bear.
