Chapter 16 #2
‘Yes.’ He arched a perfect dark eyebrow. ‘The only thing that hurt you in this house is me. Which is to be expected, I suppose. Not that it makes that particular pill any easier to swallow.’
‘No.’ The word slipped from my mouth before I could process what I was even saying.
Damien smirked. ‘No? If your circumstances are making you lonely, it’s because of me. If you miss your sister, that’s because of me too. Seems fairly straightforward to me.’
I shook my head. ‘Grace is alive because of you. Being here… being here is my own fault, really. If I’d done a better job of protecting her in the first place, there wouldn’t be a need for me to save her.’
Damien cocked his head, pressing his lips into a tight line as he eyed me. ‘And you’re here on the landing alone because…?’
I stayed silent, desperately not looking toward the corner I knew the Nihil hid in. Not that it mattered. The pieces fell into place, his eyes narrowing sharply. ‘Tell me I’m wrong, and you weren’t about to do what I think you were going to do.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I squeaked, my voice cracking.
‘So you weren’t about to offer yourself to the Nihil?’ he hissed. ‘Tell me I’m wrong, Stella.’
I wanted to. I so badly wanted to tell him he was wrong, to watch the look of quiet disappointment slip from his face, and I didn’t know what that said about me, or the strange feelings for Damien I did my best to ignore. Kiss me.
But telling him he was wrong would be a lie. ‘They promised me I would see Grace again.’
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled, the mirror image of the night he appeared in my room. It felt as if he was gathering every ounce of his strength to not snap.
‘Stella?’ His voice was quiet, a dark demand I found myself unable to refuse.
‘Yes?’ I toed the fading carpet, working the tip of my shoe into a discolored damask. It might’ve been white once.
‘If I see you risk your life again like that, I will lock you in your room like the fragile princess you seem to think I consider you.’ When he opened his eyes again, his gaze bored into me, searing me from the inside out. ‘Do you understand me?’
He was throwing my words back at me. More importantly, he was throwing my words from that night back at me. Did it keep him awake at night like it did me?
I straightened my shoulders, not daring to look away. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘A promise.’ The words, silky and seductive, made me question if it was really such a bad thing after all.
‘You seem to not comprehend the lengths I will go to keep you safe, and are insistent on putting yourself in harm’s way.
I’d rather like to go at least a few days without worrying about your safety.
If you are unable to do this, then you have only yourself to blame for the consequences.
But mark my words, Bambi. I will not allow you to put yourself in harm’s way again. ’
I fought the shiver that wanted to race down my back at the thought that Damien might care enough about me to protect me like that.
That was ridiculous, though. He cared about me as a prized possession if anything, the toy of the little boy who got whatever he wanted and didn’t like to share.
Nothing more. Nothing like affection. Simple jealousy is all it was.
‘Do I make myself clear?’ he repeated.
‘Yes.’ I gritted my teeth.
Damien didn’t relax, tension stretching taut between us. He watched me carefully for several minutes before he spoke. ‘I want to show you something. Will you come with me?’
It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for a response before he turned away from me, striding down the hallway.
I wasn’t about to miss out on whatever something was, and he knew it. With one last look toward the corner, I followed.
The trail he took led us back to the library. He held the door open for me, my shoulder brushing against him as I walked past. There wasn’t anything between us. There wasn’t. The goosebumps that exploded over my skin when I touched him meant nothing.
I meant nothing.
It was nothing.
‘You’ve already shown me the library.’ I crossed my arms, frowning. ‘If I’d known you had a poor memory, I would’ve stayed back with Archie. At least he’s a better conversationalist.’
‘Ah, yes, I can understand how you’d rather spend time with your beast from Hell who can’t speak.
Much better company, I’m sure. Too bad I saw him taking advantage of Agatha’s absence and sneaking into the kitchen with Luna.
’ Damien shot me a look and waved me forward.
‘And you can apologize for your smart mouth because I’m not trying to show you the library.
What I want to show you is in the library. ’
I laughed. ‘If you’re thinking I owe you an apology, you are sorely mistaken.’
Damien just watched me, waiting for me to calm down, I was sure. ‘Are you quite done?’
He was such a pompous ass, it made me want to scream. How was he always so composed? ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
He straightened out his cuffs with a smirk. ‘Of course you don’t. Are you coming or not?’
Stubbornness simmered in my core, demanding me to disobey, to hold my ground, but the larger part of me was too curious for my own good. ‘Fine.’
Damien led us through the neatly organized stacks, along the back wall we hadn’t reached before.
Shelves lined the wall in either direction, stretching the length of the vast room.
Except instead of books on the shelf, there were…
things. That was the only way I could describe it. Things. Trinkets. Knick-knacks.
I could feel Damien’s eyes on me as I stepped closer. ‘Funny. You don’t seem the sentimental sort.’
‘I’m not. These are tokens collected mostly before my time. I just created a place to store them all.’
I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eyes. He simply watched me, and if I were to name his expression, it would contentment.
‘What are they all?’ I finally asked.
‘Artifacts. A history of sorts.’ He stepped beside me, running a hand over a white vase, painted with feathery strokes.
‘There are so many names for what I do. Different cultures explain it in different ways. We don’t exactly have a concise history of who we were, and how we came to be.
At least not an accurate one. People are always going to twist the truth to make themselves look better. ’
‘Oh,’ I whispered.
‘This is the closest we’ll get to an accurate history. The art people created to worship their deities. Of course, they never worshipped the right ones, but c’est la vie.’
‘What do you mean?’
Damien thought for a moment, lips pursed. ‘Well, take the Donner Party for example. A pretty well-known tragedy, right?’
‘Right…’ I had no idea where he was going with this.
‘Well. Something worse would’ve happened if the Donner Party hadn’t gotten stuck when they did. Far more people would’ve died. Innocents. Children.’
When he snapped his gaze to mine, I felt pinned to the spot, unable to move or even look away.
‘That’s what people don’t realize about this.
We’re not just killing people for sport.
We’re balancing out the needs of the many versus the few.
One tragedy versus the next. The soul of a serial killer for the lives of five teenagers.
But what if one of those teenagers grows up to be an even worse serial killer?
It’s complicated and cruel and harsh. And yet, I’ve probably been more of a god to these people than anything they’ve ever begged for mercy from. ’
His words settled in, taking root in my chest, spreading out with spindly tendrils of understanding. The needs of the many versus the few.
He’d saved me, though. What did that mean?
‘Where do I fit in?’ I choked out.
I didn’t know why I bothered to ask because I already knew I wasn’t going to get an answer.
Damien pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. ‘This wasn’t what I brought you here to see.’
‘It’s not?’ I tried not to stare at the way his muscles pulled at his shirt.
‘No. It’s something on the shelf.’ He finally ripped his eyes away from me, taking a piece of me with him. He ran his finger along the shelf until he stopped. ‘Here.’
In his hands, he held an antique mirror, far older than I could fathom. The worn silver was bronzed around the edges of the ornate detailing, the glass speckled with tarnish. When I took it in my hands, it was heavier than I expected.
‘A mirror?’ I asked.
The smallest hint of a smile pulled at his lips, not condescending or placating. Genuine. I decided I liked it, no matter how small it was.
‘It’s not just a mirror.’ His hand brushed against my wrist as he reached out to tap it, a sensation I told myself to ignore. ‘Think about what you want to see more than anything else in the world.’
My answer was immediate. Grace.
A flicker in the stained mirror caught my eye. A flash of blonde hair. I blinked, my mouth dropping open as I watched the mirror come to life in my hands.
There was Grace. Smiling. Her hair was pulled away from her face, spilling around her shoulders, and she laughed at something someone else said.
I held the mirror out in shock, eyes closed, my hands trembling. Damien’s hands were there in an instant, holding mine up.
‘It was my soul, or my mother’s,’ he said.
Opening my eyes, I stared at him, a rare sense of vulnerability glowing in his gaze.
‘I was the oldest by quite a number of years. Already out on my own. My siblings were much younger than myself, my father dead from some disease or another, and my mother… I don’t know what she did.
What she had to do, I supposed. She made a deal with an entity, offering her soul and servitude for her children’s safety.
She probably didn’t think anything would come of it.
Or maybe she was just concerned about the next meal on the table. ’
He sighed softly, wrapping his hand around mine, and I tried to pretend it didn’t send waves of electricity through my body. I didn’t want to say anything and break the moment.