Page 31 of Realm of the Wicked

‘Well, I certainly can’t cook like this. My specialty is ordering in. Tacos, usually.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t put yourself down. I’m sure you’re better than you think. How was the rest of your afternoon? Is your room okay?’

‘I’m sure her accommodations are more than to her liking,’ Damien interrupted before I could answer for myself.

He didn’t even bother to look up from his dinner to respond for me. Dick. Also, my accommodations? As if I were in a five-star hotel, and not confined to this falling-apart mansion.

I wrinkled my nose. ‘Well, now that you mention my accommodations, it’s kind of cold.’

‘I run hot,’ Damien said, cutting another bite of chicken. Even his eating was precise. Controlled.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t.’

Damien sighed. ‘So put a sweater on then. Anything else reasonable?’

Pausing, I considered my options. He seemed more focused on his damn chicken than me, so I might have a chance. ‘I miss my phone.’

This, of all things, had him putting his fork down, looking up at me with something close to curiosity. ‘Your phone?’

‘Yes. You know, the thing you talk to people on?’

‘I know what a phone is, Stella.’ His glare could’ve sliced right through me, smooth as the chicken he was so focused on. ‘I’m just confused why you’d need one. You’ve been wiped from everyone’s memories. Who is left to call?’

Ignoring the sharp stab of pain echoing through my heart at his words, I focused on what I wanted. ‘I don’t want to call anyone. I want my music. It’s too quiet in here. It’s eerie. I swear I hear people calling my name outside the doors. I have to listen to my thoughts, or those creepy shadow people⁠—’

‘Nihil, please. Music…’ he repeated, as if the thought never occurred to him. He held up a hand. ‘Please, do not insult my intelligence and suggest I don’t know what music is either. I might not be as up to date on human culture as I once was, but there was music when I was human, Stella.’

His dark eyes stared past me, and I sat, uncomfortable in the silence once more.

‘Stella told me the Council was here today,’ Agatha said. ‘What did they want?’

Damien gave Agatha a sharp look. ‘Nothing to be concerned about, really.’

I could hear the underlying message, the words he wasn’t saying. Drop it. But did he want her to drop it because I was here, and he didn’t want to discuss his plans for taking my soul with me present, or did he truly want to pretend nothing was happening?

From what I knew about Agatha, she wasn’t one to drop anything.

‘Well, I just hope you have a plan. I’d hate to see Clarissa’s wrath. Once that petty bitch gets going, she’s like a damn dog with a bone.’ Agatha sighed, crossing her arms as she stared Damien down. Not one bit of fear showed on her face, even though I could practically feel the annoyance dripping off Damien.

‘Agatha. This is not the time or place.’ His voice dropped, dark and heavy.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, unsure who would back down first. I hadn’t expected Agatha to be quite so curious about the Council, and I was curious to hear Damien explain it to someone else. Maybe he’d changed his mind since I’d been in his office, and had a plan to give my soul to the Council after all.

‘If it was just you and me, D, that would be fine⁠—’

‘Agatha.’

‘But it’s not just you and me. You’ve brought someone else into the mix now⁠—’

‘Agatha, stop.’

‘She deserves to know. She deserves to know every⁠—’

‘I said stop!’ Damien didn’t raise his voice, which made his tone even more deadly. The dishes trembled in front of us, the chandelier flickering wildly. Smoke billowed out from beneath the table. He pushed back away from the table, his chair dropping to the floor in a clatter. ‘You will respect your place. You will respect me.’

He tore his eyes away from Agatha for a single moment to level me with a stare that churned my stomach.

It might’ve said, I expect the same from you, or, Don’t judge me for what I’ve had to do. I couldn’t tell the difference between the two, and I couldn’t be sure which one I’d prefer it to be.