Chapter 41
I’ve been dreading this day. For the past few weeks, it has been a constant, lingering presence in my mind. I don’t want to face the angels, don’t want to give more excuses to not accept their bargains, but I’ve made my choice.
I don’t know if anything more will happen between Ambrose and me after the bargain has ended, but I can’t betray him like they want me to.
Somewhere in the time we’ve spent together, he’s become a friend. A companion. My partner in crime—literally.
I try not to consider the implications that my feelings for Ambrose might have on my mortal soul. If he really is a demon rebelling against an all-powerful God, I’ve certainly secured my place in Hell by falling for him and refusing to help the angels.
I’ve been too afraid to ask him for the truth, though.
Not only would that require me admitting to having spoken with the angels, but I’m not sure I’d want to know.
They say that ignorance is bliss, but I’ve never quite understood the saying until now.
If I don’t know the truth, I can pretend that he’s being honest and live in my blissful ignorance.
If only my questions were so easily forgotten.
All of the life seems to have faded from the forest, the color seeped from the grass and the trees to create a dreary landscape of beige and brown. The leaves have fallen, and the wind howls through the bare branches as their limbs claw into the gray sky.
Winter will descend soon, and I’ve resigned myself to spending it huddled by the fireplace in the cabin instead of going out to collect lives, though I can no longer pretend to resent my presence here.
In fact, the thought of listening to Ambrose’s low, calming voice read novels and poetry while snow blankets the world outside is exponentially more appealing than the alternative—being back at home for the holidays.
I won’t have to worry about feigning a smile that becomes painful with how hard I clench my teeth, nor will I have to play the docile hostess or doting wife.
This time, I can simply be me and enjoy slow afternoons and long nights with Ambrose.
My hair whips in the frigid wind as I approach the clearing at the end of the path. Still nobody in sight. I pause for a moment, wondering how long I should wait, until I notice the door to the church is slightly ajar.
They must be waiting inside. I guess it makes sense for angels to wait in church.
My heart races as I ascend the small set of stairs and peek through the crack in the door. Samuel and Elias are standing near the pulpit and speaking in hushed tones, clearly in disagreement about something.
Holding my breath, I attempt to train my ears on their conversation, but the wind makes it impossible to hear anything other than the note of frustration lacing their words.
Samuel shushes Elias as his head snaps toward the door. I haven’t moved—hell, I haven’t breathed—but he must sense I’m here somehow. Sighing, I push the heavy door, and it opens with a slow, high-pitched creak.
“Brielle,” Samuel greets me with a smile that’s simultaneously too wide yet doesn’t reach his eyes, his voice echoing through the dusty, dilapidated room. Elias simply nods toward me in acknowledgment.
“Hi, I can’t stay for long but didn’t want to keep you two waiting,” I lie. I have no other obligations today, but leaving them hanging seemed riskier than simply telling them I won’t help them.
“Oh?” Samuel raises his eyebrows. “Do you have plans to attend to?”
I swear he can see right through me, but I don’t falter despite my heart pounding against my ribcage. I wonder offhandedly if he can hear it from across the room.
“Nothing terribly significant, just dinner with a friend, but I don’t want to be rude by showing up late.” I flash a friendly smile, but he wears an expression of skepticism. To my credit, it’s not a complete lie—Ambrose and I are supposed to be cooking together tonight.
“Have you gotten us the information we need?”
I shake my head. “Like I said last time, I can’t help you. I just came here to tell you that.”
Samuel’s expression drops for a fraction of a second before returning to one of cool neutrality. “You don’t know what a monumental mistake you’re making,” he warns.
“He’s not hurting anyone,” I argue. “I’m not going to help you take anything away from him.”
Samuel scoffs. “Not hurting anyone? Do you know how many people that man has so callously killed in order to extend his life? Do you know how many women just like you he’s manipulated?”
“He’s not manipulating me.” I almost say anymore, but stop myself before I let it slip.
Shaking his head, Samuel says with pity, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“And what would that be?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Do you really think you’re the first woman he’s brought here for entertainment?
He’s essentially immortal. You’re nothing more than a distraction for him, a blip on his radar, a way for him to exercise his lust for power.
And there is no greater power than making someone who claims to hate you fall in love with you.
You’re not special to him. It’s all a game. ”
You’re not special to him. The words resound in my ears, though I try to ignore them. He’s lying. The thought of his words being true makes my stomach turn, but I need to stay strong right now.
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs. “That will be your problem to deal with in time, then. But just know, there’s a reason he went after you.
You were isolated, had no family or friends besides that awful husband of yours, and you were entirely desperate and broken.
He knew you would have nowhere to run after coming here.
That’s why he chose you, despite whatever proclamations he’s given about you being ‘special.’”
My breath catches in my throat. He has to be lying. The mere thought of everything between us having been a cruel game… It would ruin me.
“You’re lying,” I say, though my voice wavers. “It started as a bargain, but things have changed.”
Samuel smirks. “I didn’t want to tell you this before, but…”
“But what?”
“Our kind have no power to make binding bargains. It’s all a trick.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, any deal you made with Ambrose holds no more weight than a deal you might make with a friend. He used your ignorance against you, made you believe that supernatural elements were at play when there are none. It’s a tactic he likes to use for naive girls like you.”
I swallow around the knot forming in my throat and will myself not to cry. No. It can’t be true. Everything he’s said, everything I’ve done to fulfill the bargain…
My stomach rolls with nausea. It’s not like I ever tested any of the things Ambrose told me because I was too afraid of the consequences. But if any of Samuel’s arguments are true, then everything between me and Ambrose begins to unravel.
“Then why did he always care so much about when I’d be coming back?” I ask. “He said I wouldn’t be able to leave for more than a day without it affecting me physically.”
Elias draws my attention by tsking and shaking his head in disbelief, the first reaction he’s given to this conversation since it started. For what it’s worth, he looks genuinely sympathetic.
Still, Samuel answers. “That’s difficult to answer. Maybe he was worried you’d stay away if you left. But from what I know of him, the only thing he’d ever care to part with is his artifact.”
Dread sinks like a stone in my stomach.
Because every time I left the house without him, I had that stone around my neck.
Maybe it’s true, and maybe it’s not, but his argument is becoming more convincing by the second. What the hell do I do?
“If you don’t believe me, test one of his lies,” Samuel says, noticing the conflict warring in my eyes that I no longer have the will to hide. “Leave for a few days, because I guarantee you’ll be perfectly fine.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. He would find me and—”
“No,” he interrupts. “He wouldn’t. As long as you don’t have his artifact, he has no way of finding you beyond normal means.”
“But…” My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. But what? I have nothing more to say.
The silence stretches between us for a few moments as I weigh my options.
“What will you do?” Samuel asks.
“I’m going to leave. Just for a couple days,” I add, “to see if it affects me in the way he says it will.”
“And if it doesn’t? Will you come back?”
Silence.
Somehow, I hadn’t thought about that next step with all the chaos in my mind.
“I’m not sure,” I answer in a voice devoid of any emotion before turning and walking out the church.
The trees encroaching on either side of the path seem to close in on me as I hustle forward. My mind is reeling, but I focus just long enough to conjure up an excuse for leaving should I run into Ambrose inside.
Sure enough, he’s in the kitchen chopping vegetables for whatever dinner he’s preparing to make tonight—the one we’re supposed to make together—and his eyes flick up to meet mine as soon as the door shuts behind me.
“How was your walk?” He asks with a gentle smile.
That tiny, insignificant tilt of his lips is almost enough to fracture my heart.
One side of my brain screams, It’s all a trick!
While the other side whispers, There’s no way he could fake this affection.
The conflict makes me want to scream, tear my hair out, hit something, anything to make it go away.
But nothing will be able to help this besides proving one side wrong or right.
“It was good,” I say. “It’s getting cold.” It’s the most obvious statement I could make, but he doesn’t seem to think twice about it.
“It is. We should go out and get you a better coat soon. It’ll start snowing any day now.”
I nod, but a familiar emptiness is already consuming my body.
The pain of knowing I may never come back, may never see him again, is too strong, and my brain is fighting back the only way it knows how—by shutting down until I’m a shell of myself.
The emotion will fester wherever it’s hiding until it explodes without warning, but that’s a problem for future me.
I just can’t allow him to see me breaking. Not again.
So, I fake it. I cook and eat dinner with him while pretending like nothing’s wrong. I had thought that hiding my pain was an act I’d mastered, but Ambrose casts curious looks in my direction, his brows pinched together in concern.
“Is everything okay?” He finally asks me as we’re cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.
“Yeah, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep very well last night. I’ve also just been thinking about tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
I feign surprise. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? I found another person to kill.” I say it so casually, it surprises even me. “As usual, one less terrible person in the world, and one more fragment of a lifetime closer to fulfilling my end of our deal.”
The hopefully convincing smile I cast his way goes unreturned, and the beat of silence between my quip and his answer is unnerving. What if he somehow figured out what happened and that I don’t plan to return?
When he speaks, though, he doesn’t give any indication that he’s aware of my plans. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to do this one on my own.”
His brow furrows. “Who is it?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say with another false smile, though I attempt to make this one more conspiratorial.
Again, he raises his eyebrows but doesn’t smile back.
“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask. He had asked me the same question earlier, but it’s clear there’s something going on in his mind that he’s not letting on.
“Yes, but I’d like to talk to you about some things.”
My heart rate quickens. “When?”
“I was planning on having a conversation this week, but now I think tonight may be the best time for it.”
Shit. What do I do? Maybe he did figure out what was going on with the angels. But if that’s the case, and if he truly has lied to me about so much, he’s going to use his talents of persuasion to tell me exactly what I want to hear.
And I can’t let myself be fooled again. I need the space to clear my mind before I can hear out whatever he wants to say.
“Can we wait until after I get back?” I ask, feigning a yawn. “I’m actually a little excited about tomorrow, and I’d like to get to sleep soon so I can leave early.”
He looks conflicted, and his posture deflates slightly when he says, “Okay. Sure. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Perfect. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Brielle. Come home safe.”
I hold back the tide of emotion that’s threatening to break through the walls I’ve put up, and when I round the corner to head upstairs, I slip Ambrose’s necklace out of its usual place in my purse and set it on the small table beside the doorway.
I won’t be needing it tomorrow—or maybe ever again—but Ambrose won’t realize that until it’s too late. I’ll be gone before he’s awake, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.