A spark of red.
My heart stops beating.
I blink, and she's gone. The accelerated rhythm of my pulse throbs in my ears. A surprised
gasp ricochets off the mirrors. Each version of me stands still, eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"I know you're here." My voice comes out smaller than I'd like. Quivering and weak.
The only response is canned laughter, filtered in from the outside.
I spr
int through the rest of the fun house.
The chilly night air sends shivers rocketing across my skin. I stumble down the steps behind the makeshift building, and a heavy hand clamps around my arm, squeezing. The knife slips from my grasp, falling, rattling
against the wooden planks.
He whirls me around, and I'm staring straight into his dark, evil eyes. His broad nose spews hot air, a bull ready to charge, face inches from mine.
"Why do you follow me,
Querida
?" the demon asks, voice smoldering, dissolving
into my skin.
My tongue trips over itself. "W—Where's Viola?" I manage.
"Who wants to know?"
"Me."
His gaze sears into mine, trying to uncover the level of truth in my words. "You have a death wish." He steps back, releasing my arm. Eyes cautious. We're
behind the row of vendors and rides, hidden from the rest of the carnival, but he continues to distance himself.
"You're heavily guarded,
Querida
," he whispers, eyeing me suspiciously. "But then, you must know that."
"Sir! Excuse me!" A uniformed officer
approaches us, moving quickly. Seth pushes around him.
"I tell Viola you look for her," the demon says, backing further away, lifting his arms in surrender.
A shiver of panic moves my stomach.
"It was nothing, Officer," he says. "
Fue
un
malentendido
. A
misunderstanding."
Seth is between us, breathless, eyes searching mine. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I tell him. I turn to the officer. "It's fine."
The officer eyes the two of us suspiciously. "You're sure?" he asks.
I nod.
He studies the demon a beat long
er, unknowing, hesitating. "Move along, then," he finally says.
E
IGHT
The front door crashes shut behind us. I flinch. The vase perched on the entryway table rattles against the glass, and my photographs shiver in their frames. Seth
pulls my knife from his pocket and hurls it across the room. It hits the wall, leaving a deep gray scar before clattering to the floor.
His eyes fix on mine, and they're blazing, on fire, another world trapped inside them, desperate to get out. His anger
simmers beneath my own skin, stinging, and it's so wholly unlike anything I've felt from him before that I take another step backward, cautious.
"Is it wrong that I just want one normal night with you?" he asks. My spine tingles with heat, muscles tensing
, heart
bamming
in my chest. When I don't answer: "I thought we agreed, Genesis. No hunting."
My teeth clench together and I fight to replace his rage, now coursing through my veins, with my own. I should be allowed to feel my own emotions. "I wasn't hun
ting. I was following," I clarify. "There's a difference."
"Demon following, hunting, chasing. Do I have to spell it out for you?" Seth moves closer to me, voice rising with every fiery word. "No demons,
period
. Why won't you listen to
anything
I say?"
"H
e knew Viola!" I reply.
"And if I wouldn't have gotten to you in time. . . ."
Exactly. Always getting in the way.
His features soften, the anger breaking. Snapping in two. Dissolving. His eyes study mine, steady. "Is that how you feel about me? I'm just in
your way?"
"What?" My eyes narrow, voice barely audible.
How could he . . . ?
"I . . . n—no," I stammer. "He
knew
her. He might've known where she was. How I could find her." I blow out a frustrated, angry sigh. "I just want her
gone
, Seth. And I can't
kill her if . . ."
"You don't understand, Genesis. It's not a matter of
if
it happens. It's
when
it happens. You'll have one shot. That's it. There's no room for screwing up."
"I wouldn't have screwed up! I told you she would be there tonight, and I was r
ight."
"And I told
you
that if we saw her, we'd re-group. Get a real plan together."
"And let her get away?
Again
?"
"If it's you she's after she's not going far." A foreign voice interrupts us. Our heads turn simultaneously, gazes resting on a girl who can
't be much older than me standing in the living room. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a thick braid, the shorter wisps falling loosely around her oval face. Her eyes are dark, hard. Lips pulled into a deep frown. A frightening kind of beautiful.
"Who ar
e you?" I ask.
She closes the distance between us, striding confidently, until she's directly in front of me. "I was sent to help you, because you are clearly hell-bent on taking this demon out." Her teeth
are perfectly straight. White. Lips a muted pink.
"And if you keep executing these irresponsible, irrational behaviors, you're going to wind up dead, and, fortunately for you, the Council thinks you're too valuable to die."
"The Council sent you?" Seth asks.
Her eyes break my gaze for the first time. "It
's good to find you well, Seth," she says coolly.
His jaw tightens, arms folding across his chest. "Mara."
And I'm overcome with a sense of impending dread, the feeling that these two somehow know each other, and that her being here isn't necessarily a go
od thing.
"I'm not following." I turn to Seth. "Why would the Council . . ."
But he ignores me. "They certainly didn't hold back, did they? Sending the head of their guard to babysit a demon hunter?" A slow, sly smile creeps across his face. "That has to
piss you off."
Her eyes grow harder.
"I don't need a babysitter," I tell her. "I've been doing fine without you."
Her cool eyes settle on me, something like a sneer curving her mouth. "Have you?" She turns back to Seth. "
Does she even know how difficult it is to
kill
a demon?"
"I've been killing demons for weeks."
Her eyes flit back to Seth. "How?"
"The throat," he answers.
"And that's worked for her every single time?"
"Yes," I assure her.
She turns to me, eyes thin, nar
rowed to slits. "Every demon you've crossed died when you severed their throats?"
I think back to the visions. The
Diabols
I've found and killed in the months since the fire at Ernie's. "Yes, except for one. At the time . . ."
But she doesn't let me finish
. She holds up a single finger. "First rule of demon killing, if there even
is
such a thing, you have to know the demon's center, what compels him to act."
"Demons have centers?"
Her eyes roll in a fit of aggravation. "This is going to be a nightmare. Yes.
Demons have centers. It's where they obtain their power. If you don't attack their center, they will not die. You have to know what drives them.
That's
how you kill them."
"The demons I've killed so far . . ."
"Lucky shots," she says. "Why didn't you tell
her this?" she asks Seth.
"The throat is the most logical place, Mara. All demons are driven by malice. That's the throat."
"
Most
demons," she clarifies. "Not all." Then, turning back to me: "Do you know what it means that every single
Diabol
you've kille
d was driven by malice? That cutting their throats even
worked
?" She doesn't give me a chance to answer. "It means that they are playing you, Genesis Green. You are a pawn in Viola's game." She shakes her head at me, disgusted, as if she can't believe I've
been so insanely ignorant. "How are you even able to get close enough to a demon to slice his throat, anyway?" she goes on. "It's not because of anything you're doing, I assure you."
My eyes tighten. "
What?
" But even now it makes perfect sense. It should'
ve never been so easy for me to see them. To find them. To eliminate them.
"You are not in control here. Not even
close
. So don't think for a moment you've made any kind of progress in this little war of yours. The only demons you've killed are the ones V
iola
wants
you to kill. She is watching you from the rafters, and she is laughing at you."
All at once I'm back inside that fun house, crawling across the floor, cackles flooding my ears, mocking me.
"Then how could I have killed
Arsen
?" I ask, turning to
Seth. "His stomach."
"You killed a demon by slicing his abdomen?" Mara interrupts.
I nod.
A sly smile crosses her face. An eyebrow lifts. "Then
Arsen
wasn't driven by malice. He was ruled by his passions."
"His passions?" I repeat, not understanding.
"In
this case, you," Seth clarifies.
"You
knew
?"
"I had an idea."
"But
Arsen
tried to
kill
me," I remind him. "He had orders from Viola."
"He wouldn't have gone through with it," Mara says. "If stabbing him in the abdomen worked, then deep down he wanted you f
or himself.
Another
lucky shot." She eyes me with disdain, as if I'm some sort of disease. Someone who should be stepped on. Squashed. Eliminated. "It's a miracle you aren't
dead
already." Her eyes flicker to Seth as she says this, accusing.
"I would
neve
r
let that happen," Seth replies, voice growing louder.
"And yet you're throwing her out there ill-equipped and unprepared!" Mara shouts back.
"I'm not throwing her anywhere! This is something she feels she has to do. Do I like it?
Absolutely not. But it's not something I can keep her from doing."
"She's going to get herself killed, and then what good is she?" The words are spoken calmly, matter of fact, as Mara folds her arms across her chest.
A tremor slides along my spine, and Se
th's face turns to stone, draining of its color.
"That's all you care about?" he asks. "That's all the Council cares about? What she can do for you?"
"She's agreed to help us. She's worthless to us if she's dead." In the next moment, her head snaps back
to Seth. She watches, studying him. His features. His expression. "You wouldn't dare," she finally whispers.
Seth's face grows paler. And I know something is passing between them. She knows something. Or he's told her something, without even speaking.
"Do
n't," he says.
"Is that something you expect me to keep to myself?"
"It doesn't make a difference either way. It's already decided." He swallows hard.
A tiny laugh. "Oh, she will
hate
this."
"What?" I demand to know, splitting a look between them.
"No." Se
th's tone is almost pleading, begging her not to go on.
Her lips part, breaking their thin, hard line. "Your
Guardian
is right. He'll never let you die. Not if there's an alternative."
Seth's jaw tightens.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
She speaks to me, re
fusing to take her eyes off Seth. "He's willing to trade places with you. Damn himself for eternity so you'll have a chance to live."
"What? How do you . . . ?" I turn toward Seth, fists clenching. "Why would you . . . ?"
"It won't come to that," he assure
s me.
"There are no guarantees, Seth," Mara reminds him. "You know that as well as I. And I can see it in you. If it
does
come to that. . . ."