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36

Céleste

“I’m sorry.” The strappy shoes dangle from my fingertips, as I sit with my knees pulled into my chest, the warm breeze sifting through my hair.

Steering the skiff around a log, Thierry shoots me a smirk. “That’s the third time you’ve said that.”

“Yeah, well, an unruly rhino would’ve probably been less chaotic.”

“Probably.”

Dusk settles over the bayou, and the black silhouettes of cypress trees stand knee-deep in the murky water, like a painting, set against the burnt orange and pink sky. Twinkling fireflies add enchanting animation to the surrounding stillness. The Spanish moss slung over branches, reaching down for the glassy surface below, is mirrored by its reflection, like looking at a parallel, upside down world. “As above, so below.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t remember where I heard it. It just makes me think of the duality of things, sometimes. Good and evil. Black and white.”

“Balance.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never bought into the idea that evil balances good. Not with some of the evil I’ve seen, anyway.”

“Yet, without it, the world would be a boring collection of good intentions.”

“Ah, you’re one of those folks who thinks we need the occasional thinning of the herd, is that it? I’ll bet you’re a fan of The Purge movie, aren’t you?”

Lips curved into a handsome smile, he looks out over the water. “I’m one of those folks who believes that, without balance, there can be too much of one thing.”

“And here I thought you were going to tell me too much of me was a good thing.”

“Maybe it is. Or maybe your crazy incites my crazy.”

“And that’s bad?”

At the raise of his brow, I’m reminded of the night before, when he chased me through the woods with a knife. “Yeah. It’s bad. But I knew you wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“What?”

“Killing me.”

“What makes you so sure.”

“You were protecting your sister. However shriveled it might be, you do have a heart.”

Eyes scanning the surroundings, he licks his lips. “I need to know who told you about her.”

Lips pressed together, I look away and shake my head.

“Why are you protecting this person?”

“Because I’m a hundred percent certain you would kill her.”

“Her?”

“Dammit.”

He turns off the skiff’s engine, and the boat glides to a stop.

Sitting up in my seat, I glance around at the gradually darkening bayou. “What are you doing?”