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“Yeah,” she says. “You changed him.”
“Jimmy Greco?”
“Yeah,” she says again, softly. “Him, too.”
“Arthur Lee.”
“I don’t know. If you did, I wasn’t there. But since you knew the names of the first two, you’re probably right about the third.”
My hands are shaking again.
“Cassel, what’s the difference? You knew about all of this before. They’re just names.”
I sink down to the grass. It’s damp with dew. I feel sick, but self-loathing has become a familiar sickness. I was a monster before. A monster with the excuse that he didn’t know details so he didn’t really have to think about it. “I don’t know. I guess there’s no difference.”
She sits next to me and pulls up a handful of weeds. She tries to throw it, but most of the blades stick to her bare fingers. Neither of us is wearing gloves.
“It’s just—why? Why did I do it? Barron could make me remember anything, but what did I remember that let me change these people into objects?”
“I don’t know,” Lila says in a monotone.
I reach out for her shoulder without thinking, rubbing my fingers over the cotton. I no longer know how to say aloud what I feel. Sorry my brothers kept her in a cage, sorry that it took me so long to save her, sorry I changed her in the first place. Sorry I’m bringing up those memories now.
“Don’t,” she says.
My bare fingers still. “Right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“My father wants you to work for him, doesn’t he?” she asks, scooting away from me. Her eyes are bright in the moonlight.
I nod. “He offered me a job at Philip’s funeral.”
Lila groans. “He’s got some conflict going with the Brennan family. He does a lot of his business at funeral parlors these days.” She pauses. “Are you going to do it?”
“You mean am I going to keep on murdering people? I don’t know. I guess I’m good at it. It’s good to be good at something, right?” There’s bitterness in my voice, but not as much as there should be. The horror I felt earlier is fading, being replaced by a kind of resignation.
“Maybe they don’t die when you change them into objects,” Lila says. “Maybe they’re just in suspended animation.”
I shudder. “That sounds even worse.”
She flops back in the grass, looking up at the night sky. “I like how you can see stars out here in the country.”
“This isn’t the country,” I say, turning toward her. “We’re close to two cities and—”
She smiles up at me, and all of a sudden we’re in dangerous territory. I’m above her, looking down at the fall of her silvery hair on the grass, at the way her neck moves when she swallows nervously, at the way her fingers curl in the dirt.
I try to say something, but I can’t remember what we were talking about. All my thoughts melt away as her lips part and her bare hand slides through my hair, pulling me down to her.
She makes a soft sound as my mouth presses against hers, hungry, desperate. Only a monster would do this, but I already know I’m a monster.
I roll toward her, not breaking the kiss, crushing her body against mine. My eyes close, so I don’t have to see what I’m doing, but my hands find her easily enough. She moans into my mouth.
Her fingers are still knotted in my hair, gripping it hard, like she’s afraid I am going to pull away.
“Please,” I say breathlessly, but then we’re kissing again and it’s hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of her body arching under mine, and I never get the rest of the words out.
Please stop me.
I drag my mouth away from hers, moving to kiss the hollow of her throat, my teeth gliding over her skin, my tongue tasting sweat and dirt.
