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“God, fuck you,” she says, although she doesn’t sound angry. “Get out of my thoughts.”

“I’m not in your thoughts. Your emotions are loud.” I rub my thumb across her cheekbone, relishing the way it makes her flush. “I can hear the things you don’t want to admit to yourself.”

Penelope stares at me for a long time, long enough that I worry I misspoke. But then she takes a deep, shaky breath. “If you’re talking about murder,” she says quietly. “I’ve thought about it. I wanted to be a Hunter when I was younger.”

“You’re part Hunter,” I say. “I think that means more than you realize.”

She looks at me blankly. “I’m human.”

“You’re both.” I smooth her hair back, trace the lines of her face. Maybe this is why the gods arrived when she did—because it’s my job to show her what that means. “Come with me,” I murmur. “Kill Wolrath with me.”

Her breath catches again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” My chest squeezes up tight, and I don’t understand why she’s so recalcitrant. She knows this darkness is inside her. She chased it with me more than once—all her fighting, slashing, clawing before giving in to her pleasure.

“I’m human,” she says. “I’m not like you. I’ll get caught.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s not the seventies anymore!” she cries. “It’s certainly not the fucking eighteen-seventies.”

I bite back a smile.

“They’ll collect DNA evidence,” she goes on. “One hair slips out of my head, and it’s fucking over. I know your DNA won’t return anything, but mine will. And trust me, for a guy like Wolrath? They’ll look.”

I grab her chin. “Do you know that for sure?” I ask.

“What?” she sputters. “Of course I do. I’m not⁠—”

“I don’t mean about investigating Wolrath’s death. I mean the other part.” I stare down at her, my hearing pounding. “How do you know you’re human?”

Penelope’s mouth drops open, but she doesn’t speak right away. In those few moments of hesitation, we just watch each other, the wind rustling softly around us.

“I don’t feel it,” she finally says. “The urge. I don’t need to kill, like you do. Trust me, I would have gone mad a long time ago if I were a Hunter.”

“You want to kill, though.”

She breathes out. Doesn’t say anything.

“The urge may not be strong,” I say, “but you still feel it.”

“I don’t have your senses,” she counters.

“Are you sure?” I slide my hand up to brush her cheek, and she shivers a little beneath my touch. “You’ve never felt an emotion that wasn’t your own? Never knew someone was watching you?”

Her eyes widen a little, and she takes a step back. I follow her, though, matching her steps with mine.

“I don't know,” she breathes.

“I think you have.”

She bumps up against one of the big stones and slides down until she’s sitting on it, staring up at me. I kneel beside her and take her hand in mine

“I bet your DNA isn’t as clear as you think it is,” I say softly. “We’ll be careful. Tie up your hair and wear a wig. Wear gloves, a mask.”

Penelope’s breath quickens with excitement. I can taste it on the air.

“You came here to protest Wolrath,” I say. “But won’t killing him send an even stronger message?”