Page 32 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

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“And you think you’ll get them from me,” said the cloaked figure.

They were obviously mocking her, Hazel thought. Rising to the bait would be a bad idea, regardless of the heat making its way up her neck.

“Can you lie?” she asked.

“Yes,” said her captive, with a blend of surprise and amusement.

Their answer, in turn, startled Hazel slightly. Creatures from the ethereal and beyond generally couldn’t lie outright, and she wouldn’t have expected one to admit it if they did.

She studied the figure more closely. They hadn’t struggled against the vines at all since she’d come out—they almost seemed to be relaxing into them, languid in the middle of rain and thorns. Were they havingfun?

It was more possible than her ego would have preferred.

You smug son of a bitch, she thought, but didn’t say it aloud. The professional in her roused before she could, pointing out that smug often went before a fall and that lies could reveal their own kind of truth.

“Let’s make a deal,” Hazel said.

The figure’s eyes glinted through the rain like taillights on the highway. “Oh, yes. Let’s,” they said, each syllable slow and silky.

Hazel swallowed.

Head in the game.She needed exact phrasing to come out ahead in this exchange. She also had to stay focused, attentive to any sign that the intruder might be lying, which meant observing them closely and wouldn’t help at all in keeping her cool.

Slowly she counted to ten, then assembled each word of her offer. “I’ll let you go if you answer nine questions. Before each one, I’ll say what number question it is, or it doesn’t count.”

“Ah.” The figure chuckled. “Clever girl.”

“Save it,” Hazel snapped. Self-control was vital, anger was anobstacle, but she was no saint, and it had been alongday already. “I’m not a fucking velociraptor.”

No hood or cloak could really conceal how utterly baffled the figure looked for a moment. “A what?”

“Never mind. Do you agree? That isn’t a question.”

The figure shook their head. Hazel’s heart sank until they spoke again. “I’ll give you one answer. And I can’t tell you how to defeat my master or how to heal yourself. Don’t hope too high.”

“I never do.” But she was hoping a little more now. The figure—

“What’s your name?” Hazel asked. “I’mnotusing a question.”

She could just barely make out their smirk. “You can’t possibly expect me to give awaythat.”

Hazel couldn’t be mad that time, just embarrassed; she should have kept her phrasing in mind when dealing with the ethereal, where true names were major bargaining chips. “Then what would you like me to call you?Ican come up with a few suggestions, but in the interest of doing business, I thought I’d let you pick.”

“I suppose it would make matters easier. ‘Legate,’” they said, or that was what Hazel heard.

“Like a Roman soldier?”

They hesitated before correcting her. “Ligat. As in ligature.” Ligat tugged gently at the vines to illustrate.

“And your—are you a he or a they or what?”

“He.” He didn’t act confused or mock the request for pronouns, which earned him some of the few points Hazel was willing to give a demonic stalker.

“All right. Ligat.” She lowered her knife, though she didn’t trust him nearly far enough to sheath it again, and rested her hands on her hips. He’d said hecouldn’ttell her how to fix the wound or kill the demon.I’ll givewas a different story. “Seven answers.”

“Three. The worst you can do is keep me here, remember? The rain and the cold won’t bother me, I don’t need food, and I’ve slept inworse positions.” It was surprising how fluidly he could shrug while bound in vines.