Page 160 of Devoured

“So”—she clears her throat—“where’s Sin? Did he run out on us?”

No. Sharp pain lances through me at the deprecation in her voice. And I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to speak the words aloud, as if keeping them locked up tight will prevent them from being true.

But I am a Truthseer. I can’t even lie to myself.

My chin quivers, and I clench it shut to keep the sob from escaping. I count to three, and I force myself to try again. “He… he…”

Evie stills when my voice breaks. She glances at the blood on my chest before her eyes move slowly to my face. “Vanessa?” Those eyes widen. “Vanessa, where is Sin?”

My heart fractures as I remember his grip on it. As I remember his claws piercing my flesh. It was better. That pain was preferable to this. “He…”

My voice falters again, but she shakes her head in understanding all the same. “No,” she whispers. I nod.

My heart aches. My gaze burns.

But there is no time to feel the sting of his death. There is no time to bear the brunt of grief when werewolves are still bleeding on the ground and officers are still cowering against the walls of the castle.

There are still people to save. There is still a fight to be fought.

“Cora’s forces have almost fallen.” Voice hollow, Calix appears beside us in the next moment. His eyes are still red and swollen. But like me, he doesn’t seem able to stop moving. What happens when we stop moving? “We need to convince the officers to stand down. We need to convince the faeries to stop fighting.”

“Compel them,” I say suddenly. “Compel the humans to leave, to forget this ever happened. It’s too dangerous for them to be here and see… all this.” We don’t know who will hold a grudge, and though Valja and the faeries fought with us today—who knows where their alliances will lie tomorrow? Now that Cora is dead and their scores have been settled, who knows whose side they’re truly on? “The mortals need to go now.”

Calix nods, turns to leave again. Then stops. Jaw clenched, hand shaking, he reaches out as if to touch my face. Whether to offer comfort or to seek it, I don’t know. Either way, he drops his hand again at the last second. Thank god he drops his hand. But—something about his face is wrong. It takes a second for me to realize, but—

His eyes aren’t scarlet anymore.

They’re wine red. So deep and rich in color they’re almost plum.

“I’ll order the werewolves to stand down.” He nods once, his strange new gaze falling on Cora, hardening, before he explodes back out onto the field, shouting orders and expletives as he wrenches a wolf from a struggling officer. “Enough,” he commands, and the wolf stills mid-lunge, cringing and backing away with a whimper. The remaining wolves shudder too. Awareness ripples as if they also feel the weight of his compulsion.

I count the corpses on the ground around him.

Six human deaths.

Two dozen werewolf deaths.

I close my eyes. “I’ll handle my father.”

“Vanessa.” Portia grabs my wrist before I can go, looking up at me with a silver-lined gaze. “Thank you for saving me.”

Her words pierce my chest. Their warmth. Their meaning. Sliding my fingers down her palm, I force myself to give a reassuring squeeze.

“We weren’t dying today, remember?”

Evie glances between us for a split second, and then she extends a hand and hauls Portia to her feet. “I’ll start compelling the humans. You help Calix.”

I leave them to it, brushing aside what remains of my tears, and find my father where I left him, his eyes fixed on me as his knees quake.

He must have seen, I realize. He must have seen me murder Cora. I clench my blood-soaked hands into fists. Force myself to remain calm, stoic, as the corpses around us flicker in and out of my vision. The bodies blur together between this massacre and the last.

Cora was always meant to die, but the others were innocent. They could have been saved.

Sin could have been saved.

He tried to kill Cora. He was on our side. He didn’t deserve to die.

I step over the body of a mangled wolf and move to my father’s side. “Are you hurt?”