Page 44 of Endless Terrors
I felt my lips purse, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Exactly how you like them.”
Dear God. Was I … jealous?
Thankfully, Laurie didn’t seize the opportunity to tease or taunt me. His silver eyes shifted to the horizon. “The witch you mentioned,” he said abruptly. “The one who went to Hell. How did it end for her?”
I hesitated. For an instant, I thought about lying. But there was no point, because Laurie would see right through me. I took a slow, soundless breath, but the air betrayed me, and swirls of heat appeared in the shadowed space between us.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “There weren’t any more entries after that.”
“Lovely.” He laughed, a brief and mirthless sound. “So the entire foundation of your plan, which is the capability to return from Hell with this spell, is based on the success of a witch who was never heard from again after she performed it.”
It was then I realized Laurie was pissed. Deeply, visibly pissed. It was so unlike him that I fell silent, disconcerted. “We don’t know that,” I said finally. “There are a hundred reasons why Goody Baldwin stopped writing. She could’ve just started a new journal, for starters.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, please. You knew, the entire time you stood there and fed us this story.” Laurie gestured toward the loft, and the movement was so fast that his arm slightly blurred.
“Knew what?” I asked with careful detachment.
“That you wouldn’t be coming back.”
The coldness in his voice startled me. I felt my defenses rise, but I fought to hold onto calm. My hands formed fists in my pockets. After a moment, I moved away and reached for the door. As I grasped the handle, I faced Laurie again. At last I said, my own voice hard with conviction, “You can’t say you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my position.”
“I wouldn’t, actually. Because what you’re doing is giving up. You’re being a martyr, Fortuna. And despite what the legends say, there’s nothing romantic about a martyr. It’s just tragic.”
The way he looked at me was a blend of scorn and pity. Laurie had never, ever looked at me that way before. But instead of getting pissed, I just felt a flash of hurt. It made it difficult to think, and I spent too much time trying to come up with the right response. Laurie misinterpreted my struggle as a stubborn silence. This time, he was the one to turn away.
“You said you’d never try to change me. That night.” My voice was soft, but he still heard it.
Laurie stopped, and I knew him well enough by now to recognize that I’d surprised him. He moved closer to me again, searching my expression with a look in his eyes I couldn’t decipher. “You heard us,” he said.
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. I just gazed up at the silver-haired faerie who had, somehow, become very important to me. I didn’t want to fight with him; I wanted to leave things on a good note.
I was about to try again when Laurie said, “Fine. You’re right. I can’t make this decision for you, however much I’d like to, because you’re making the wrong one. For what it’s worth, though, I’m hoping you’ll change your mind. If Collith knew what you were planning, he’d say the same thing. On this, we’d be in complete agreement.”
“See?” I said softly. “Miracles do happen.”
I had hoped to make him smile, or shoot me a glare, at least. Instead, Laurie’s jaw worked, and I’d only seemed to make things worse. I could see the two parts of him struggling. The reasonable side, the light, knowing he had to allow me to make my own choice. But the faerie—the hungry, roiling darkness that lived inside both of us—urged him to take the choice from me. Which one would he listen to?
I stared up at Laurie calmly. Waiting. The darkness looked out from his eyes.
Then he vanished.
Snow floated past the place he’d been standing. I stayed there, listening to the wind howl, and I hoped I got to see him again. We felt unfinished.
It wasn’t the only thing in my life that felt that way.
Of their own volition, my eyes went to Cyrus’s porch. Collith had been a constant presence there since we got home. But his rocking chair was empty, and I knew he’d probably left when he’d realized everyone was convening. We didn’t know how much Lucifer was using his access to Collith.
Speaking of Lucifer …
My insides quaked. I quickly pictured my family’s faces, and the sensation faded. I opened the door to the barn again and cast a final look around, memorizing every detail. The house, the glowing windows, the fat snowflakes still drifting down. The garage where Laurie had embraced me as I cried, the campfire where Collith and I had held hands in our silent grief, the trees where I played with Damon and Matthew. A soft smile touched my lips. After another moment, I went inside.
My three days were nearly up.
Oliver didn’t like it.
He listened to my plan with an unreadable expression, but his mouth was pursed and there was a shadow in his eyes. He didn’t interrupt or voice any opinions, even once I had finished.
We sat beneath our tree, me with my back against the trunk while Oliver sat in the canopy’s shadow, one arm propped on his bent knee. I wore a long, white dress with a green sweater pulled over it, and the sleeves were just a bit too long. Every time I reached up to brush my hair away, I caught the faint, familiar scent clinging to the wool. Ollie.
