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“Lis will be right there,” he said, and walked a few feet away, gravel crunching underfoot. Apparently, I was supposed to follow obediently. Which I did, eventually.
Lulu watched us with lifted brows, but went to the car, climbed inside.
“Thanks for being cool about Lulu. About the breakup.”
His expression was amused, but there was mild insult in his eyes. “What did you think I was going to say to her?”
“I don’t know. The point is, you didn’t.”
“I like Lulu,” he said. “She’s like the little sister I never really wanted.”
“Well, thanks. I’m still getting used to mature Connor.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“Thank you.”
His expression went flat. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I didn’t think it had been. And I braced myself for a conversation I didn’t want to have.
“Does it hurt you?”
I blinked. That’s not what I’d expected him to ask. “No. It’s fine, and I’m handling it.”
“Are you? Because you aren’t acting like you’re handling it. If you were handling it, you wouldn’t be hiding it.”
I looked back at Lulu. She’d pulled out her screen and was making a big effort to look everywhere else except at us.
“I’m handling it,” I said again, each word a battle that I struggled to win. I turned away, but he grabbed my arm.
“I don’t think so,” he said, eyes shifting as he searched my face. “Even I can see that you’re walking a very dangerous line.”
I just looked away.
“Trying to ignore it, to push it down, isn’t going to help you. Not in the long run. But maybe you could learn to control it.”
Irritation began to buzz along my skin. I knew he was trying to help, but that didn’t make me any less angry at his polite suggestions. I’d been living with the monster, had beenfightingthe monster, since I’d been old enough to recognize its voice. To understand that I wasn’t just angry or psychotic, but... invaded.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes went dark and he moved a step closer. “I know better than anyone, Elisa. I’ve seen what it can do to you.”
Memory flashed, sharp as a dagger, and I could all but smell blood in the air. “Destruction is what it can do for me. Pain.”
“That’s true of any power. It just has to be managed. Look,” he said, his voice softening, “if you don’t want to do that, maybe there’s a way to strip it out again. Someone who can use magic to remove it.”
That someone was dead. Sorcha—the one who’d created the Egregore—had been killed by her own creation.
“I don’t need advice, and I’m not going to apologize for who I am.” Not when it wasn’t my fault.
His eyes went hard, jaw tight with frustration. “No one asked you to apologize. And there is no mistaking who you are. You’re stubborn and brave and goddamned dumbfounding at times. And it’s not like you to give up.”
The anger turned up to a full boil. “I’m not giving up anything, except this conversation. But next time I’m looking for magic advice, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”
I walked back to the car, leaving him standing behind me.
• • •
