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I look at my hand on her knee. The question cuts through me, because the truth is, I still need to kill Nicholas Wolrath. Penelope doesn’t replace Mary, that’s true. But I still feel my need for blood eking back into me with a sharp, insistent hunger. I can’t ignore it.

“I knew it.” She stands up, knocking my hand away in the process. “You still want to kill him. Wolrath.”

I half expect her to grab her things and start marching back to town, but she doesn’t. She just stands there, glaring down at me, one hand on her hip.

“It’s complicated,” I start.

“Yes or no?” She barks it out like an order.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I rise to standing, not taking my eyes off her, like I’m afraid she’s a victim and she’s going to bolt. I don’t want to chase her through the woods again. I want to keep her close to me. I want to⁠—

I want to take her with me. To the kill.

The thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but now that it has, I can’t shake it. Everything I told her earlier was the truth—but what was especially true is the fact that I like that she knows what I am. That I want to share that with her. Really share it, I mean. I don’t just want her to see me work; I want her to help me. I want her to bloody her pretty little knife with Wolrath’s blood and discover the pleasures of killing with me at her side.

How did I not see any of this before? It’s so clear now, as bright as her phone light in the dark.

“Not going to answer?” she says sullenly.

I open my mouth, but I don’t know how to explain it—how my need isn’t just about the usual Hunter’s need to kill, nor is it about the vengeance I thought I wanted. That it’s about bringing her into my world.

So instead, I just wind up saying, “He’s not a Mary.”

Penelope doesn’t move.

“I don’t need Marys anymore,” I continue. “Truly. But Albert Wolrath never got the punishment he deserved, and it’s not like that family is innocent.”

Penelope studies me, her eyes glinting a little in the dark. “There are cops everywhere,” she says. “It’s stupid.”

“Killing Wolrath will prove your friend isn’t the killer,” I say. “That’s why I came and got you in the first place.” Now, I’m not sure that’s true. I think I always wanted to bring her along, even if I couldn’t quite be honest about that with myself. “They’ll have to let him go if the killer strikes again while he’s in custody.”

Penelope laughs bitterly. “No, they won’t.”

“Your friend is innocent,” I remind her. “Completely. If Wolrath dies while he’s in jail, that’s just more proof of his innocence.” I step up to her, brush my hands through her hair to comb the leaves away. She lets me, her eyes burning into mine. “I need this, Penelope. I need to do this one thing. And then⁠—”

Penelope’s emotions are a tangle again, heat and confusion and affection and a sharp strike of jealousy. But there’s something else there, too. An excitement, hardly daring to brim over to the surface.

“And then I’ll take you far away from here,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to do.”

Penelope sucks in her breath and lifts her hand and presses it gently against my chest. I brace for her to push me away, but she doesn’t. She just curls her fingers against my pectoral muscle, like she might reach inside and yank out my heart.

“You can even kill me,” I say.

Penelope lets out a shocked laugh. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

I shrug. “You tried a few days ago.”

“You were going to kill me. That was self-defense.”

I grab her wrist and drag her into an embrace, cupping her face with my hand. Holding her close. “You’re curious about it,” I murmur, my heart hammering. I need to tell her I want her there with me. “Killing.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to. I feel her excitement flare up.

“There it is.” I smile.