Page 35 of Endless Terrors
“Fuck,” she said, exhaling.
I nodded in weary agreement. “Yeah.”
Bea looked down at her beloved. “Are you all right? Can you sit up on your own?”
Gretchen patted her hand in silent reassurance. Releasing another breath, Bea got up. She sat down behind her desk and opened a drawer. She reached inside, and a bottle appeared. Once she’d set it down, Bea twisted the cap off. She flipped her long, gray braid over her shoulder and angled her body toward me, making the chair squeak. She took a long swig of the whiskey, her throat moving with each swallow, and then the bottle landed on the desk with another hollow thud.
“Okay,” she said. “Tell us everything.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
An hour later, I pushed the door with the palm of my hand and stepped outside.
Sunlight beat down on my head. I felt drained. Empty. As I crossed the street, I checked my phone, and I was faintly surprised to see it wasn’t yet noon. It felt like I’d spent so much more time in that small room with Gretchen and Bea.
During that time, I’d answered every single one of their questions—even the ones about Lucifer. But I wasn’t sure where we stood now they knew the truth. Bea had wanted to take Gretchen to the clinic, despite Savannah’s remarks, and they’d turned down my offer to go with them. They didn’t say much to me while I was leaving. I was trying not to read too much into that, considering Gretchen had just been hexed and the foundation of their entire world was crumbling. Humans tended not to take it very well, finding out monsters were real and they were at the bottom of the food chain.
No wonder Bea and Gretchen couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. I sighed and wondered if the relationship between us would ever be the same. It won’t matter, if you don’t come up with a miracle by tomorrow, logic pointed out. Panic fluttered at the edges of my heart.
I needed to get back to the loft and continue our search for that miracle.
My car was parked down the street, so I started toward it, pointing the key fob. The headlights flashed. I spotted a reflection in the window and paused, one hand on the handle. I’d know those horns anywhere.
“You’re following me again,” I said, turning.
Seth Arthion stood there. He was a young goblin, I thought to myself. There was just something distinctly youthful about his curly hair, lean face, and eyes the color of a wide, clear sky.
“I never stopped, really,” Seth told me, shrugging in a way that seemed sheepish and defiant at the same time. The last time we’d spoken—not today, but months ago, before my family fled town—he’d asked to swear the Blood Vow to me and I’d turned him down.
“Why?” I asked bluntly. “What exactly are you hoping for?”
“What I said before. I want to be part of your Court.” Seth lifted his chin.
An automatic refusal rose to my lips, but something stopped me. Maybe I was just tired of leaving things on a bad note. As I thought about what to say, realization hit me—Vulen. The telepath had mentioned Seth just before he died. In all the chaos of Lucifer’s arrival and leaving Granby, I’d completely forgotten about it until now.
I fought to control my expression as the memory came back. It had been the night of the opera. I had arrived arm in arm with Laurie and Collith, thinking our evening would conclude with Belanor’s death. We’d stood in that night-shrouded office and tortured his pet telepath. There had been so much blood, I remembered faintly. Rivers of it had been pouring out of the faerie’s eyes when he spoke his last words. Help him.
I hadn’t helped anyone lately, much less Seth. Guilt stabbed at me. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself I hadn’t made Vulen any promises. I’d already broken one deathbed oath, and that was enough. I still heard Naevys’s voice in my head sometimes, asking me to have faith in her son.
That was right before I’d found out he was a traitorous asshole and staged a coup in front of his entire Court.
Definitely broke that one, I thought with a wince.
Seth had been quiet while I contemplated. Desperate to forget about Vulen and Naevys, I refocused on him and saw the hope he couldn’t quite hide in his eyes. Seth must be thinking my silence meant that I was considering his request, I realized. A heavy feeling settled in my chest.
Over the goblin’s slender shoulder, I noticed a bench nearby. I pocketed my keys and said, “Do you want to sit?”
He nodded. We walked over to it, and I brushed some of the snow off. Seth sat on one end, and I settled in the middle, folding my arms against myself for warmth. The bench faced the antique shop. There was an old man on the other side of the display window, carefully arranging some books on a shelf.
I watched his progress as I said, “Vulen mentioned you before he died.”
Seth’s head turned in my peripheral vision. “You were there? I’d heard that he … passed on, but the goblin who told me didn’t know anything else. What did Vulen say?”
After a moment, I tore my gaze from the old man in the window and searched Seth’s expression. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I just knew that Vulen had been loyal to Belanor, and part of me distrusted anyone even vaguely connected to either of them. “He just asked me to help you,” I said eventually.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Vulen was always kind. We stayed in touch for a while, after I left Court, but once my banishment started to take its toll …” Seth faltered again, then gestured to the horns. “I was angry. Maybe a little ashamed, too. I stopped talking to him.”
The Seelie Court likes pretty things, Laurie had said to me once. It was unsurprising that those ancient, elitist assholes had pushed out one of their own and made Seth feel like there was something wrong with him. For a moment, I regretted that I hadn’t burned that entire palace to the ground.
