The Duplicity of Thieves (The Remnant #1)

Chapter one

Josephine

I wake in a panic, dripping in sweat. Another nightmare. Outside, the moon has barely moved since I closed my eyes. Thank the Universe. I must have fallen asleep. With a careful breath, I swing my legs over the side of the creaky mattress.

Quietly, I pull open my bedroom door, wincing when the hinges give the slightest squeak. No one makes a sound. I swivel my head back and forth checking to see if the coast is clear. Once I’ve determined it’s safe, I tiptoe through the house until I make it to the front door. Grabbing my boots, I make a run for it, hopping on each foot as I pull them on. I dart across the field and wade through the tall grass, keeping low so no one sees me.

I stop to catch my breath when I reach the trees on the edge of the forest. I’m a grown woman, but somehow sneaking out at night makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. By the design of my family, I almost never have a moment alone.

With a sigh of relief, I turn to the path and press on further into the woods. I can’t go through the village, or someone will see me. The path that leads out of my homeland, the Remnant Republic, happens to pass the scene of my almost drowning. Li Pá o Lethe —the most likely source of my constant nightmares—translates into the Pool of Forgetfulness. They say anyone who drinks is cursed. To what? I’m not sure, but if you ask me, it’s a life of wishing you maybe fucking didn’t. It's a life of secrecy and paranoia. It’s a life where you spend all your free time wondering why you would subject yourself to this.

When I woke from my near death, I had no memory. No point of reference for who I am. Only skin covered in fresh symbolled scars and my name, Josephine. Even that could be bullshit. According to Kate, Killian was passing by that night on an errand and found me on the shore, then he took me back to her. Kate took me in and gave me a home and a family.

Kate has always been kind, unapologetic, and a little odd. Although she’s kind of crazy, she’s respected by our community. She has sacrificed a lot for the people of the Republic and given back more than she has. If someone needs medical care, they come to her, and she makes them a tonic or a salve.

Kate’s best friend died of disease about a year before they rescued me. Her daughter, Vivian, moved in with the two of them. When I was recovering from my accident, she was my lifeline to the outside world. I didn’t have to hide myself from her, or tell lies about where I came from. To anyone else I would have been a curse, but to her, I’m her sister.

In the short time we spent together, we became bonded and decided we were long lost sisters who had been reconnected. Killian used to say it was ridiculous and tease us, but he always had a smile hidden in the corners of his mouth. She’s the youngest by a couple of years, and the glue between us.

She was born a kind soul, and though she doesn’t offer up information about her mother, I wonder about the sort of person she must have been. Kate has said a few times that Vivian is the spitting image of her. She has deep tanned skin and dark brown ringlet curls with hazel eyes, and a smile that shines on you like the sun. She’s approachable and intelligent, even helping Kate with making tinctures sometimes.

Killian was abandoned as a little boy. He doesn’t remember anything, or if he does, he won’t talk about it. To him, this has always been his life. He sees Kate as his big sister, even if he’s a grown man bigger than the three of us. He saved my life, although sometimes I wish he hadn’t.

I try to avoid thinking about him. The way his orange eyes used to catch mine when Kate was saying something crazy. When we would argue and he would give me a crooked smile and look at me over his nose with his eyes crinkling at the corners. We used to be inseparable. Now I’ll do anything to get away just for a little while so I’m not so fucking suffocated with everyone’s expectations.

He has always taken the brunt of Kate’s wrath when I do something stupid, but I can tell he’s sick of it. Those orange eyes will glare at me in frustration instead of guilty approval, and it makes my stomach twist in knots. I don’t want him to ruin my night.

Ahead, the calm black water encircled by black sand glimmers. The people in my village stay away from here, so I know I’m alone. It would probably unnerve everyone else, but I like it. This place, especially at night, is the only time I’m free of expectations.

I kick my boots off and sink my toes into the sticky sand, telling myself I deserve a moment of reflection before I go meet up with my friend, Clo, at a pub on the edge of the territory. I do it every time I come this way, hoping that somehow I can make the water speak to me. It never does. It’s as silent as my memory.

“Do you wish you could remember?” Vivian had asked me once.

I still don’t know the answer. When I’m sitting here reflecting, I always wonder how I ended up in the Lethe in the first place. Was I trying to die? Drowning seems like a shitty and dramatic way to go. It’s not even guaranteed. Was I trying to forget something? I can’t imagine what would be so horrible that I would have wanted to forget it, but I guess only I could be the judge of that.

The strange, scarred symbols that cover my body are white against my skin. They wrap themselves around me, crawling up my hip across my breasts, over my right shoulder onto my back, and clawing their way down my arm. It’s the evidence left behind of my old life. They’re ugly and nonsensical. Did I put them there myself? Did someone do it for me? I suppose they are questions I will never know the answers to.

When I first started venturing into the village, Kate took me aside and told me I should cover them up. She insisted on it. We had no idea where I had come from or why. Someone could be looking for me, and that wasn’t something I wanted to face. I live in a constant state of paranoia. Out of habit, I pull at the neck of my long sleeve making sure they’re hidden.

In Kate and Killian’s eyes, danger lurks around every corner, and even though I try to push those thoughts from my mind, I can’t. My eyes sweep along the tree line looking for movement. Nothing. I sigh with frustration. Mostly at the stupid water.

Vivian would be disappointed if she knew I was out here. She’s never judged me or made me feel like I’m less or different. She never really argues with me, but I can tell when she’s upset. She doesn’t understand what it’s like to have everyone constantly breathing down your neck concerned about every move you make. Kate and Killian have ingrained the possibility of danger so deeply within us that it stresses her out when I rebel.

With a loud sigh I dust off my feet, throw on my boots, and give Lethe a vulgar gesture before getting back on the trail. Another night of unanswered questions. I always expect something different. I’m great at disappointing myself.

When I spot the pub, Clo is waiting outside on the cobblestone street, and she’s already drunk. She flips her shoulder-length brown hair and giggles, chatting with some guy she met before I got here. She’s the only friend I’ve got outside of Killian and Vivian, and they hardly count.

The pub, Ody’s, is small, but it’s amazing how many people manage to squeeze inside on any given night. A melting pot of Underworld residents seem to find their way here. The burgundy walls are dirty with smoke, and filled with knick-knacks to the point of making you claustrophobic. Things even hang from the ceiling by wire. Patrons pour onto the street out of the little stone cottage, and music blares through the speakers.

“Bitch, where have you been?” Clo’s words are drawn out and slurred.

“I fell asleep.” It’s sort of true.

She gives the guy she was talking to a seductive smile, and starts dragging me into the pub. “Find me later,” she calls over her shoulder.

The bartender doesn’t ask before giving us a curt nod and setting three shots of clear alcohol in front of each of us.

She clinks her glass against mine. “One for the night.”

“One for our inhibitions,” I respond, picking up the second and draining it.

“And one for The Fates!” we shout in tandem.

It’s something we began saying the first night we met. She marched right up to me where I was fidgeting in the corner, and pronounced us friends for the night. That night extended into the next, the one after that, and then all the subsequent nights we’ve managed to meet up here. Clo is loud and fun, and she can draw quite the crowd with her bubbly personality. She’s such a social butterfly, where I’m withdrawn and always on edge. At least until I’m drunk.

I link my arm with hers, and we go in search of a decent spot. We find an abandoned booth in the corner that’s still dirty. She shoves everything to one side and slides across the worn-out leather with rips and tears exposing crumbling yellow sponge.

She nudges me from across the table. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yeah.”

“Thinking about being a grown up and finally moving out of the Remnant cult?”

I give her a warning look. Outside of the Republic, being Remnant is frowned upon. People don’t understand us and our customs. I’ve told Clo about how my family is controlling, but she doesn’t know the truth. It’s nice to complain and get validation, even if it’s seemingly misinformed.

“Says the girl who is still stuck living with her ornery sisters.”

“At least they respect me enough to let me make my own decisions,” she shoots back. I bristle at her words. “Here’s some wisdom. You can’t bottle your wishes up forever, or you’ll just make yourself miserable obediently taking everyone else’s directions. One day you’ll wake up and realize how much time you wasted, and it’s really hard to forgive yourself for that.”

I give her a sidelong glance. “Stop it. They’re my family. I can’t just pack up and leave like you.”

It’s the little things that make me stay.

Vivian, with the way she gently braids my hair and coaxes out whatever is bothering me. How she asks me for advice that I clearly have no idea about, but lets me give it anyways. How we have dance parties in the living room, or sleepovers in each other’s bedrooms. Late night talks that turn into early exhausted mornings.

The way Killian reaches for me when we’re at a party and pretends he’s having a terrible time, when, in reality, he’s the life of it. How he manages to sneak around and take me on adventures, like my first night at this pub. The way he soothes me after a nightmare. Well, used to.

I make Kate sound bad, but she’s not. When she sees that I’m in my head, she’ll reach over and quietly clasp my hand. She’s done her best to fill me with all of the knowledge I lost. Sometimes she’ll even tell me about a time when there was Magic, which is a forbidden subject.

When I think about losing them? It’s devastating.

“Fine. We’ll drink our problems away then,” she sighs dramatically.

For all the fun Clo is, she’s not exactly forthcoming. She lives with her two judgmental sisters who disapprove of every move she makes. We’re kindred spirits.

An overworked waitress comes over and takes our order. We people watch and make up conversations. Clo is the first person I think I’ve ever just been friends with. There’s no pressure with her other than peer pressure.

This pub is just outside of the Remnant Republic, where it meets with the rest of the Underworld. I always wanted to see the way everyone else lives, and this is as close as I’ll probably ever get. Outsiders are unwelcome in the Republic, not like they could get there without help, but we only congregate with our own.

I think the only reason Killian doesn’t fight me about my nights out is because this is technically a Remnant establishment. The man that owns it, Stafford, employs him. I’m sure he somehow keeps an eye on me. He might own a pub, but it’s common knowledge in the Republic that this is just a front. Stafford’s real priority is back door business dealings. Killian won’t exactly tell me what that means, but he comes back home with enough black eyes that I have a faint idea.

The tired waitress slams two goblets of mead in front of us. “Drinks from the gentlemen over there.”

Over at another table, two men wave in our direction. They aren’t my type, but they are Clo’s. She flashes a winning smile and holds her drink in the air, toasting them. I gulp mine down and begin to feel that fuzzy warmth. It’s a welcome feeling to offset my running mind.

Off to the side, I notice a man watching us. Watching me. He’s accompanied by two others who are deep in conversation, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. When we make eye contact, I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. Dark blue eyes watch me from behind thick black eyelashes. A thrill travels down my spine.

He has dark brown hair that is short on the sides and tousled on the top. He’s innately attractive. Something his friend says makes him laugh, and he smirks, trying to hide a grin.

“Who are you looking at?” Clo doesn’t automatically turn in her seat to look, and I’m grateful.

I tear myself from his gaze. “Some playboy.”

“Is he cute?” she asks, distracted by her new admirers.

“Better than those two,” I snicker.

“You always manage to find the hottest guy in the pub.” She sips her drink and winks at the men financing our night. “What’s your secret? Do you have Magic or something?”

A few people around us quiet and step away. Magic is a taboo topic meant to be spoken in hushed tones, not shouted in a bar.

Before the Republic was declared, the Remnant lived across the Underworld. It’s our rightful home. When Hades was taking the throne, the Titans were sent here to eradicate us in what later became known as the Burning. We were hunted and murdered in the name of the Magic our ancestors allegedly possessed. We were burned in droves until we escaped to the Forest of the Damned to avoid persecution, and created the Republic within it. That’s why we’re called the Remnant. We’re the descendants of the only ones who survived. The Burning instilled fear in people, and all these centuries later everyone is still afraid to speak about Magic.

“Another round from the guys over there.” The waitress slams more goblets in front of us and whisks the empty ones away.

“One more and we’ll have to say hello.” Clo gives them a sultry grin.

I drink it down. “I will only be there as moral support.”

Clo and the men keep making eyes at each other, and I search for the man who had been watching me. He’s gone, but his friends are still sitting there.

“Well, you two certainly hit the jackpot tonight,” the waitress grumbles, giving us more drinks. I’ll be drunk before we know it.

Clo’s face is already flush. “Well?”

“I know. I know. Third time is the charm.” I grab my drink, and we head over. I sit in a free chair as far from them as possible, whereas Clo goes ahead and sits on one man’s lap. They giggle and flirt for a while before I excuse myself to the bar.

“So, they’re enamored with each other, huh?” The friend of the man Clo is practically dry humping, who I’ve hardly even noticed, squeezes in next to me. I was hoping he would catch my drift when I left. I tap my fingers anxiously on the counter, praying that the bartender will come over soon.

“Yup,” I say crisply.

He sips obnoxiously from his straw. “I’m Deerak. What’s your name?”

“Deerak? You mean Derek?” I snort.

“No.” He doesn’t find it amusing. “It’s Deerak. Not Derek.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the bar.“Sounds a lot like Derek to me.”

Deerak sighs and tries again. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

There’s that fated line that leads to instant death, not that he was getting anywhere with me in the first place. He takes another sip, the straw slurping, slurping, slurping.

“Can you not?” I tear it from his cup and toss it over the bar.

“Attitude much?”

Something inside of me starts to crack. Initially, I was aggravated. I do my best to keep my temper in check, but tonight I’m in a mood. For that comment? I’m going to eat him alive. I can’t stop it.

“Excuse me.” The voice behind me is like velvet. Whoever it is looms over me, casting a shadow.

The man that had been watching me earlier is standing behind me, almost touching. He is intimidatingly tall, and muscular enough to win a fight. He’s wearing a long black leather overcoat with a black shirt. Black pants, torn in the knees, feed into mud-encrusted leather boots. Tattoos creep out of his collar and up his neck, ending at his chin. Deerak shrinks away at first, then tries to recover, puffing his chest like an ugly bird.

“We were talking here,” Deerak snaps as the newcomer slides between us.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asks me.

“Deerak. Now fuck off.” Deerak is bold. I’ll give him that.

Amusement flickers in the stranger’s eyes. “Like Derek?”

Deerak looks between us angrily suspicious. “Do you two know each other?”

“Listen Derek,” the man begins.

“Deerak,” he seethes.

“Right,” the stranger nods. “Over there is a woman with much less attitude than this one. I’ll stay here with her, and you can go make conversation with someone who is more on your…wavelength. Your friend still gets laid, and you don’t force this poor woman to deal with your insufferable bullshit.”

By the end of the speech the stranger is terrifying and sneering. It’s so fucking hot that I can’t help the buzzing between my thighs. For once in my life, I’m speechless. The twerp runs away immediately, and we’re left alone.

My heart is thumping out of my chest with excitement. There’s an aura of danger about this man, and I want it. I pretend it’s from lack of freedom, but impulsiveness is carved into my bones. I already wish he would lay me out right here and fuck me.

“I could have handled it myself,” I say with a snarky tone. It doesn’t seem to phase him.

He turns to me, his face scrunched up as if he just ate something sour. “Who the fuck names their kid Deerak?”

“People named Thad and Sheerah.”

The stranger chokes mid sip and lets a boyish grin slip. It’s strangely addicting seeing such a basic attribute on a gorgeous face.

He takes me in, trailing his eyes down and back up slowly. The rest of the room fades away, until it’s just us. Maybe I’m drunk. Maybe it’s the malevolent way it seemed like he might shred Deerak to pieces, but I’m drawn to him. We don’t speak, but the bartender comes over and the man orders two of something. The drinks are slammed down next to us, spilling over the sides onto the bar. Whiskey neat.

“Thanks for the drink.” I give him an innocent smile. “I should get going.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks over the lip of his glass.

“My friend, she…” I trail off when I see the empty table and chairs where Clo had been tongue-deep in the Viking wannabe. Clearly, she is already off having a good time.

“They left ten minutes ago,” he says gently.

“Of course she did. You could have said something.” I turn back to the bar and order another.

His eyes are trained on me. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“Don’t you have friends to get back to?” I glance over, and their booth is empty, too.

“They left the moment they thought I would snap that disrespectful idiot’s neck.”

There is an immense amount of tension between us. My breaths are heavier, and my need for him grows. I want to forget about Killian’s growing disapproval, the possibility that my future could be confined to the Remnant territory forever, and my lack of success at drowning. Most importantly, I want to forget about forgetting, and this is the perfect opportunity.

“How convenient,” I enunciate.

His smirk is calm and confident. “They know I’m preoccupied.”

Everything about him suffocates me with lust. We gravitate closer to each other; he smells like amber and leather with hints of sweat. I salivate just thinking about it. For a brief moment, I consider asking for his name, but the second he reaches down and his fingers gently graze my cheek, something in me is pacified. He takes my chin and tilts it up so I am looking straight at him while he peers down at me over his perfect nose.

“You’re very sure of yourself,” I retort.

He gives me an amused smirk that is to die for. “I would say hopeful.”

“Hopeful for what?”

He grins, but there is something sinister in it. “For your attention.” Our mouths slowly gravitate together until I can taste his breath. It’s like bourbon and honey.

“Everythin’ alrigh’, lass?” Stafford’s Gaelic accented voice interrupts us.

He has chestnut brown hair down to his shoulders. It’s tied back into a small bun, and his thick brown beard hasn’t been shaved in a few days. Behind his reading glasses, bright emerald eyes take measure of the stranger, but his features stay relaxed.

Any moment the stranger is going to decide that I’m not worth whatever this is. Except he smirks, that ever-present amusement flashing back in his eyes.

I tilt my head sending ‘get the fuck away from me’ signals as hard as I can. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Headin’ out. Forgot to give ya a message.” Stafford winks, slipping a note into my hand before he disappears down the back hallway.

The stranger sticks his tongue in his cheek and raises his eyebrows. “You gonna read that?”

I don’t want to. Every fiber of my being wants to crumple it up and toss it behind me, but Stafford isn’t a delivery boy, which tells me this might be important. I flip it open. Across the torn off paper, two words are scrawled in Stafford’s shitty handwriting.

Go home.

Now he’s doing Killian’s fucking bidding. I have half a mind to run to the back, into his office, and force him to eat it.

“Important?” the stranger asks, closing the distance between us.

Fuck Stafford for trying to cock block me. I crunch it into a ball and shove it into an abandoned drink. “No.”

“You’re trouble, aren’t you, little devil?”

The stranger’s soft lips gently graze mine, and he gives me a questioning kiss. My entire body responds, giving in to itself. Every bit of frustration starts to pour out of me like a broken faucet. Our tongues intertwine, and a growl emanates from his chest.

We get looks of disapproval from the group next to us. I go out plenty and I flirt a lot, but it usually isn’t something so intimate. While Stafford has been giving me a pass, he might tell Killian about something like this. Especially after the note. I hope he does.

I separate from him and take his hand. “I need air.” We take a few steps before he’s connected to me again. We knock into the jukebox and the song skips a few times, eliciting cries of discontent.

“Take it outside!” someone shouts.

Somehow, we make it out of the pub into the dirty alley. He smashes his mouth to mine again, and we’re all teeth and tongue. His hands grab at the bottom of my shirt pulling at it. I panic for a second, and he pauses. I shake my head no and push the coat off of his shoulders instead. He shrugs out of it before pinning me back against the wall.

When I came out tonight, I figured I would go home alone, revolted by the prospects. I usually do, despite the comments Clo makes. None of the men ever seemed interesting enough. It’s not that I’ve never had the occasional rendezvous, but they were Remnant boys and easy to forget. The way this one watched me from the booth made me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt before. The stranger’s kiss is exhilarating and refreshing.

Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, begging for him to touch me more. I grind my hips against his and feel him harden. He presses me against the brick in response. One of his hands slowly slides up my torso over my shirt. He hesitates over my breast, trying to decide if he wants to touch, before wrapping around my neck. I can feel each individual finger gently squeezing over my artery like a threat.

My breath catches in my throat, and I slide my hand down his arm, intertwining my fingers with his where he grips my hip. The intrigue shifts into masochistic lust, and I’m so wet I know it’s leaking through my shorts. I’m starving for his touch. His taste. For him. We tear our mouths apart, and I swear I’m met with onyx eyes, just like the ones I see in my nightmares. In a flash, they’re gone.

A wave crashes through me, arousal surging up into my belly and taking control of me. His grip moves from my neck to my chin, forcing me to look at him. At the sight of his beautifully menacing grin, I make my decision. Forget my woes and fuck the stranger.

His mouth hovers over mine like a predator waiting to attack. I lean up and kiss him, biting his lip and pulling it playfully. He slams my back against the brick wall, holding me to it, and kisses me forcefully. His free hand squeezes my ass for a moment before he hooks his arm under my thigh, pulling it up until my knee meets my chest, trapping it between us.

My fingers trail down his abdomen. Underneath the cotton I feel toned muscle. His blue eyes are clouded with a mesmerizing intensity. His fingers slide up my fishnets to the thin fabric covering my pussy. It’s soaked through, and he smiles wickedly hooking his fingers into my shorts between my thighs.

At first, he teases me, grazing his knuckles over my underwear, waiting for me to beg. A frustrated breath escapes my lips and his fingers slide under my panties, shoving them to the side before he rubs between my soaking wet folds.

“You’re intoxicating,” he says into my ear, enveloping me in his scent.

“I should go home before I make a mistake.” It’s a halfhearted attempt at a last stand for my dignity, and respect for Stafford’s request, but I’m no saint. My body screams for release. The stranger dips one finger in, sending me into a frenzy.

“Do you want me to stop?” he growls. I shake my head no and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get a grip. Biting his lip with satisfaction, he rests his fingertips at the edge of my pussy, making me drip down my leg. I swallow hard, and his bulge grows against my thigh. Cold sweat breaks out across my already glazed skin.

Three fingers push into me without warning, and my eyes roll back into my head as he kisses me roughly. With my leg trapped between our writhing bodies, he finds my neck again and tightens, cutting off most of my oxygen and sending a thrill where his palm presses my clit. His tongue prods at the seam of my lips, and I let him in. We intertwine with desperation.

His fingers move, and I feel myself melting under his strong grip. I moan into him, and he pulls away, watching me intently. My cheeks flush and I grab his bicep, pushing him further into me. The rise and fall of his chest is sexy, sending another signal of arousal straight to where we’re connected. It’s hard to stave it off. The waves of pleasure are creeping up my legs and through my back. He holds me up against the wall, steadying me.

“You’re fucking exquisite,” he whispers on a heavy breath.

I reach my other hand up and hold onto his neck, trying to fight it. As he coaxes me toward the edge, I dig my nails into his flesh and he drives his palm deeper, stroking me inside. I try to pull his mouth to mine before I reach euphoria to mute my moans, but he doesn’t budge, watching me hungrily.

“Come on my hand, little devil,” he growls in my ear. His words are orgasmic. When I come, it’s cosmic, like stars exploding and the gates of Tartarus opening simultaneously. It makes me breathless. He doesn’t stop as soon as I finish. He wrenches every last ounce of need from me until I can hardly stand. I lay my forehead into his chest taking deep heavy breaths.

“Where is she? Biiiiitch!” Clo’s voice calls out for me.

His fingers slide out easily, and he puts them in his mouth. I watch with heavy lids as he licks my juices from each one, making a popping sound. The stranger leans down, his hot breath fanning over my cheek.

“Do you still think it’s a mistake?” His voice is dark and raspy. It takes a few seconds for my mind to catch up to my body. Mistake or not, I’m too deep to care. Without waiting for an answer his mouth touches mine, teasing me to continue this game we’re playing.

“You look like a divine goddess when you come,” he smirks on my lips. He probably says this to every girl he seduces in a shitty pub, and I don’t care. An old feeling I’ve forgotten about dusts itself off and resurfaces. I feel alive. That wasn’t even sex. I can’t imagine what that’s like with him.

“Biiiiiiiiitch!” Clo yells, her voice echoing in the street.

“I’ve got to go.” I straighten my clothes and hurry toward the entrance of the alley.

“You never told me your name,” he calls from behind me.

I stop and glance back. He’s got his coat back on, hands shoved in the pockets with his tongue in his cheek, still looking at me like I’m his prey.

He’s definitely not from around here. Men here are sleazy and boring. The clean look and drop-dead gorgeous features scream privilege. I’ll never have to see this man again. Especially after I disobeyed what were obviously direct orders from Killian. I’ll probably never be in this pub again.

I face him from the alley opening and cross my arms. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

His eyes are full of lust. “I’ve always wanted to make a deal with the devil.”

I can hardly hear my proposal over the roar of the blood in my brain, and the blistering heat still simmering between my thighs. “If the Fates have us meet again, I’ll tell you my name.”

“I’ll take your deal, but make no mistake, little devil, we will meet again.”

I should feel afraid. His words should scare me or seem insane, but it’s the first time anyone has ever made me shiver with excitement. I hope he does. Before I can second guess myself, I round the building into the open.

Clo stands there ranting to herself. I feel a pang of sadness. After tonight, I’ll be lucky if I ever leave the house again. Her eyes land on me and she looks drunkenly relieved, but they’re filled with angry tears.

“I thought you left me without saying goodbye,” she starts to wail. The girl is trashed, but it’s endearing.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” I wrap my arm around her, and we stumble back toward the place we always depart.

“Where did you disappear to?” she sniffles.

I grin. “I met a boy,”

She morphs back into her bubbly self and pushes me. “Which one?”

“The weird one who was staring at me.” I try to hide my blush, but it’s impossible.

“Did you kiss him and run like you usually do?”

I flush again. “Not exactly.”

“Oh my fuck— I have so many questions. How? What do you mean? Where?”

I twist my hair and inspect the ends. “Where do you think?”

“The bathroom? No, I was in there. I mean you could…No!” She gapes at me. I give her a sheepish smile, and she squeals again. “You dirty little devil.”

His velvety voice murmurs in my mind. You’re trouble, aren’t you, little devil?

“We didn’t do anything, really. I mean he…” I wiggle my fingers, and we burst into raucous laughter. Someone yells at us to shut up from a window.

“You shut up! My friend is telling me how she got fingerbanged!” Clo shouts.

“Keep it down,” I warn her.

“Mhm. Okay. Was it good?”

“It was the best sexual experience I think I have ever had.”

“What’s his name? When are you going to see him again?”

“Don’t know, and never.”

“Why are you like this, Josie?”

“Josephine.” My body goes rigid on instinct. The voice is pissed. More than pissed. He’s in a rage. A large calloused hand grabs my bicep, attached to a sun-kissed muscular arm. A man with dark vermilion hair and blazing orange eyes looks down at me. Freckles dust his cheeks like flecks of gold.

“Who the fuck are you?” Clo snarls, ready to pounce. She’s fierce, but with him she wouldn’t be anything but a cat trying to scratch a giant. I don’t turn around. Dread starts to simmer in my gut. This is the very first time Killian has ever come looking for me here. The goddamn note. I knew he would be angry, but to come and get me himself?

“You must be Clo,” he growls. There’s a chaotic aura around him. I can’t read it. I automatically feel guilty for what I just did in the alley with the stranger. I wonder for a moment if he knows, but if he did he wouldn’t be here. He would be shredding the poor guy into pieces before dragging them in front of me.

I can hear him scolding me in my mind while waving the man’s dismembered hand in my face. ‘Really, Josie? Were you that desperate that you had to put yourself in danger?’

“Clo, this is Killian,” I introduce them, but it’s halfhearted. I’ve never been in real trouble with Killian before. He’s been angry with me plenty of times and we’ve argued, but this is something new.

Her eyes widen as she takes him in. Killian has been the subject of many drunken conversations. I don’t have much else to talk about. Even then, Clo doesn’t know much. Just that he's overprotective and things are complicated.

“Wow, not what I expected. Nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand and he shoves it away.

“You’re the one who has her sneaking out and fucking around in these pubs with you people.”

“You people?” She smirks. “You mean the rest of society?”

“Did you get my note?” he growls in my direction.

“Must you stalk me at every turn?”

He laughs with exasperation. “Stalk you?”

“Protect me. Whatever,” I argue softly, trying to keep a full-on confrontation from happening in the middle of the street.

Clo’s features contort into one of indignation. “Josie is my best friend. I would never let anything happen to her.” Her brown hair flutters in the breeze, and she hugs herself tight in the chilly night air.

“Say goodbye, Jo. We’re going.” He crosses his arms angrily. My pride takes a hit. He’s fucking embarrassing me.

“Goodbye?” Clo pouts. “That sounds real final.”

“Josephine,” Killian says impatiently.

“Bye, Clo,” I say as if nothing is wrong.

“Josie,” she appeals to me in a fervent whisper, her arms wrapped around me tightly as if she’s about to extract me from the grip of death. “Come with me. My sisters will let you stay with us.”

I’m caught in some sort of trap. I can’t speak. I can’t react or think. I can only stand here frozen in time hugging her limply. I know exactly how this will play out.

“Please,” she adds.

Mere moments ago, we were laughing and carrying on, and now the careful facade I have put on has crumbled. I’ve turned into either a charity case or a willing prisoner, and both drench me in shame. Clo’s offer is sweet, but she doesn’t understand. Sure, I liked to talk about leaving, but it was just talk. I know I never could.

“Thanks for everything, Clo,” I manage to finally respond, removing myself from her grasp and taking a step back. I expect there to be a look of betrayal on her face, but there is only a sad understanding.

“Another time, then,” she says softly with pity in her eyes. Clo isn’t an idiot. She knows there won’t be another time. She reaches out, tucking the strand of hair that has been dancing around my face behind my ear. It’s oddly maternal. She clasps my wrists tight and looks into my eyes with a seriousness I have never seen from her before.

“You’re going to do chaotic shit someday, Josie.” Clo is doing her best not to cry. She holds my hand to her cheek for just a moment, before tossing a glare at Killian and walking away in the opposite direction.

I head up the path toward the looming forest, my legs carrying me as fast as I can to keep myself from decking Killian in the mouth before we get back home. He’s on my heels sputtering with this newfound rage. He waits until we’re back into the safety of the thickened trees before he finally speaks.

“What the fuck, Josephine? It isn’t fucking safe. These people don’t give a damn about what happens to you.”

I stop abruptly and flip around. He runs into me, catching me before I fall and setting me back upright. Once he sees my face some of the tension bleeds out of his.

“I get that you hate that I go outside of the Republic and that you take shit from Kate, but I didn’t ask you to do that. I’m not a fucking child, Killy. And sending a note through fucking Stafford? Wow. Just wow.” I turn back, storming down the path around the bend. The clearing opens around the Lethe. “I’m not some kid sister you can boss around forever.”

I head toward the black sand, kicking off my boots and sinking to the ground. Close enough to feel the danger of the water, but far enough away that it can’t magically reach up and grab me. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I can see his reflection in the murky black water. His jaw is flexing and he’s looking over the surface like he’s reliving my death.

“You are not my kid sister. Not even close.”

“Then why do you fucking treat me like that, and not Vivian?”

He shakes his head angrily, as if I’m too fucking stupid to comprehend. “Because Vivian isn’t in constant fucking danger.”

“Oh, right. The invisible unknown danger.” I roll my eyes.

“Fuck Kate. I’m not talking about that. There’s a reason Remnant stick to their own. The outside world is nasty and cruel. Men are disgusting. Do you know what the men in that place will do?”

Fingerbang me in an alley, that’s what.

“They buy me drinks and tell me I’m pretty,” I retort.

“You have no fucking idea.” Jaw clenched, he shoves his hands in his pockets and glares down at me. “They will drug you, and fuck you, and leave you lying in the goddamn street.”

“Why would you care?” There’s a shrillness to my tone.

Bewilderment and confusion pass through his eyes. “Of course I care, Jo. I care about you. I do everything for you.” He’s defensive and fierce. We’re not in the street anymore.

My voice rises several decibels. “Everything?” I laugh incredulously.

“Why is everything I say such a joke to you?”

“I forgot.” My fists dig into the wet sand ready to explode in a tantrum like a giant child. “Killian, the mature one who always makes decisions for me because I don’t know what’s good for myself, right? Because I couldn’t possibly understand how to even figure out how to exist without you.”

“It’s not you. It’s me! I can’t exist without you. I’m in love with you,” he shouts. The air about him is desperate. I’m caught off guard, and I’m stunned.

“You don’t mean that.” I’m struggling to put confidence behind my words.

“I think it’s the only serious thing about me. How can you not see it?”

I’ve always known there was something, but I didn’t think it was like that. I figured he loved me because we’re best friends and because of our circumstances, but not…this.

“Then why do you keep me here?”

He sinks into the sand next to me, careful not to enter my personal space. “You think that every decision made doesn’t include you, and I get that. I don’t consult you, and maybe I’m wrong for that. I’m protective of you, but how could I not be? I pulled you from this water that night. The beautiful girl whose life was slipping from her body.” His voice is haunted. “You were never what I expected.”

I want to say something, but I don’t want to interrupt. This is the most he has ever really said about the night I drowned.

“Kate told me to set aside my feelings,” he continues. “I tried. I really did, but I’ve never been able to. I came to find you tonight because you were right. I’ve been scared of losing you. It was selfish. You should be able to choose your future, Jo, not have it forced upon you. I’m sorry.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. “I love you. Because of that, I can’t watch Kate use you anymore. I won’t be a part of it.”

His admission rolls around in my head. Everything comes into perspective. The memories pour in.

The way he sweeps me up during celebrations and twirls me around, grasping me to his chest. When Vivian and I have sleepovers, he crashes them and plays whatever stupid games we want, and how he gives us new gossip. When we play cards I somehow always mysteriously win. Every party he hovers around me, not giving me the opportunity to really entertain anyone else. His love has been quiet and constant.

But Kate also knew all of this time. Killian is telling me that she is controlling me instead of protecting me. It makes sense. She’s always been a little crazy and her ideas are convoluted, but he has backed her at every turn. Why?

Do I love him? Is that what this feels like? I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in love before, but I do know that I don’t want to be without him. There’s a dire need for his comfort. If anyone has ever loved me, then it’s him.

“I love you,” I tell him. Then I slap him across the face. He rubs his cheek and stretches his jaw.

When he pulls his hand away there is a pink handprint blooming on his cheek. “Fuck, I always forget how strong you are.”

“Don’t forget it again,” I grin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners in that way that makes my heart flutter. He tackles me in the sand and kisses me. It’s warm and inviting. He smells like fresh spring water and summer nights laced with tobacco. “Run away with me. Say yes.”

“Yes.” It’s impulsive, but it’s thrilling. He kisses me again with certainty, holding on just a few seconds longer before touching his forehead to mine.

“As much as I want to do this with you, Jo, we have to pack our things and leave as soon as possible. We don’t have much time before—”

The air turns to ice. Our puffs of breath come out as little clouds. It’s just after solstice, and it has been a hot summer, but frost is creeping across the Lethe, cracking as it crawls toward us. Everything is freezing. The breeze stops, and the dew on the trees ices over. Killian is up in an instant, pulling me with him.

“Run,” he says in terror. Killian is never afraid. There is no telling me twice. We run like Cerberus, the nightmarish guard dog of the Underworld, is nipping at our heels. I don’t even have a moment to enjoy what just happened between us. We make it to the house and burst through the front door. The frost hasn’t reached here yet, but it’s coming. I can hear it.

Kate stands there, her long, silky black hair hanging in lazy curls down her back with a stony look on her face. “Where the hell have you been?” She takes one look at Killian’s wild eyes and turns into a beacon of calm. With a sigh she says, “Hurry.”

Killian starts shouting for Vivian throughout the house as Kate approaches me. She doesn’t look afraid or anxious. She seems like she’s relieved. Her light red eyes take me in, and she gives me a true smile.

There’s a pang of guilt. I feel like I’ve betrayed her by being angry without giving her a chance to explain. This woman gave me everything. Despite what Killian said about her not having my best interest at heart, it’s hard to look at her and see someone manipulative. She doesn’t look like a woman who has used me as a pawn in whatever game she has always been playing. She just looks like Kate, the woman who would make me tea and tell me stories.

“I never thought it would be this hard to find the words when it was time,” she says, gently kissing me on both cheeks. “You are—”

Her words are jumbled when the front door flies open and wind roars through the house, causing her deep red silky dress to billow around her.

“Go,” she urges me over her shoulder as she disappears into the darkness.

I run up the stairs, falling in my haste and crawling the rest of the way. Killian is in my room with a duffel bag shoving some of my things in, then he runs down the hall to his room. When he returns, the bag is bulging and the zipper is stretched, struggling to stay closed. Vivian stumbles through the doorway half asleep and rubbing her eyes.

With a yawn she asks, “What’s happening?”

Her mouth opens to ask again, and Killian slams his hand over it as the sound of frost creeping up the windowpane tinkles. He puts a finger to his lips to be quiet, and her mouth clamps shut.

“Pack your things. Now,” he whispers, his breath like smoke in the frozen air. She nods and takes off, returning in moments with a shoulder bag that has clothing peeking out of the sides.

Killian creeps over to the window and chances a glance out before turning to us, face hardened. We both rush to his side. In the yard we can only make out a blur in the night through the frost. Someone is speaking, but I can’t quite make out the words.

He ushers us away and down the stairs. We creep out of the front door in a crouch, sneaking across the porch toward the cellar. I pause to look out into the field. I know I shouldn’t. I know that I’ll regret it, but I look anyway. There’s a mist forming in front of Kate’s full form, and she sighs. “It isn’t even here”

“Did you hear me, Jo?” Killian asks with urgency, gripping my shoulders and tearing my gaze away. Kate’s shouting unintelligibly now and…snow is falling from the sky.

“It didn’t have to come to this.” Kate’s words are morphed into a gurgling choke.

Killian doesn’t wait for me to acknowledge him. He hauls me up and ushers me down the stairs to the cellar behind Vivian who is silent and terrified. Her entire body is shivering. I can’t even feel the cold.

“The danger was always real,” I whisper, searching Killian’s fearful eyes.

“Yes, Jo.” His voice strained. “Follow the tunnel. No matter what, even if we separate, don't stop. Don’t look back. Don’t make one fucking sound. Keep going until you make it out, and then run like your life depends on it. Don’t stop until you make it to Stafford’s. He will get us out.” He looks between us for confirmation that we know what he said. That was why Stafford delivered the note. He was going to help us run away.

“Repeat it,” he demands.

“Don’t look back. Don’t stop until we make it to Stafford’s,” we murmur.

Killian grabs Vivian and squeezes her tight for a few beats.

“I love you.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go.” He rushes us into the tunnel.

Vivian is full of terrified courage. She grabs my arm and drags me alongside her. I reach for Killian, but it’s so dark that I can’t see. We stay silent, huddling together as we run. The only sounds are our labored breaths and the rocks that scatter under our feet as we try not to trip.

The longer we run in silence the more my mind screams. This tunnel is never ending. I never even knew it was here. Bile rises in my throat threatening to expel all of the drinks I’ve had tonight. Wind whistles from up ahead and tears at our freezing bodies. We must be getting close to the other side.

We burst out into the open, hidden at the edge of the trees. I yank my hand from Vivian’s grip, and she cries out. “No!”

The house is small, but I can still make out Kate’s outline. She’s suspended in the air, above a figure shrouded in what can only be described as a blizzard. Killian appears from the side of the house across the field. He’s supposed to be behind me. We’re supposed to run away.

There is some sort of exchange between him and the heart of the blizzard. The storm strengthens and explodes around us, almost blinding my view of the two people who saved my life.

Vivian slams her hand over my eyes, dragging me backward. “Don’t stop,” she sobs.

“Get off of me!” I wrestle her away and shove her to the ground before looking back.

I can barely make out a long, curved dagger slicing across Kate’s neck, and her blood spurts out, tainting the storm until the three of them are surrounded by the white powdery wall. Vivian is back on me, yanking me back by the strap around my neck.

The storm stops as suddenly as it began, and I maneuver out of the strap causing her to fall to the ground.

The snow-covered figure is gone. The sky is clearing of the storm now, revealing a deep indigo. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the nightmarish circumstances. I finally decide to face it, to see the truth of what has happened. My heart pounds in my chest and my skin crawls.

There is so much blood that I’m sure the grass will be stained for the rest of eternity. The field will be known as something cursed, just like the Lethe. There’s a heap of death in the blood covered grass in front of the house. I can’t breathe and it feels like my lungs are being ripped from my chest as I see them laying there in a pile like discarded peanut shells.

There are no lights on in the rooms we ran from. The wind chimes still sing across the light breeze. Blood paints the white railings and splatters the siding. It’s horrific. The things Tartarus is made of. Two people over the span of a day, lost to me forever. I stare at the grass where the blood pools around the human sized lumps.

Never again will Kate tell me her wild ideas about the world. She won’t give me that curious gaze or admonish me for my antics while trying to hide a smile. She won’t read fantastical tales, force me to practice complicated languages, or tell me about Magic.

Killian will never wake me from my nightmares and soothe me back to sleep. He won’t look at me with those burning orange eyes. He won’t kiss me in secret or give me that crooked grin. He won’t tell me he loves me ever again. Given to me and stolen, just like my memory.

Something strange bubbles up inside of me. I laugh. It starts as small boofs and crescendos into all out cackling. I’m roaring with laughter. I’m aware of Vivian’s presence off to the side, but I can’t hear her through my heartbreak. They’re dead. Killian is dead.

Heat ripples on my skin and I smell earth and ash, but I can’t stop laughing. Or maybe I’m screaming. The snow melts, turning to water and gushing around my boots. Faintly, I’m aware of something happening to the earth. It cracks open between my feet. Wisps of black fire slip through it, billowing around me. The rumble of ancient trees in an earthquake fills the atmosphere. A fire erupts in the grass at my feet, flicking up and rushing toward the house, toward their bodies.

It rages through the field and crawls up the railings, consuming the porch and burning up the remnants of Killian and Kate. It continues through the door and spreads like poison, flashing in the windows of the home we all used to share. In moments, the world is blazing, the heat burning my skin. The grass crackles as it dries out and screams with smoke. Tears like lava slide down my cheeks.

This is all my fault. I brought this here. I carelessly went out of the Republic for fun instead of being careful and heeding their warnings. Whatever is being unleashed inside of me is in control, and that must be what I was trying to get away from. That’s what whoever they are want. I am the danger.

Kate kept her eyes on me as much as possible because she somehow knew I was the unpredictable evil. She wanted to control it. Even the Lethe couldn’t strip me of this immense darkness. It only took one thing for me explode, but it feels so fucking good to be full of fury. A hungry void has been unleashed inside of me. There is no going back.

I have been broken. I feel hopeless. Mere hours ago, I was someone else entirely. I had a harmless night out with my friend. I met a boy. My best friend told me he loved me and asked me to run away with him. It feels like that was years ago. My world has ended, and I will make it pay.

“Josephine, stop! Please?” Vivian’s voice is shaking with terror. “I’m so scared, Jo.” She falls to her knees with her face in her hands rocking back and forth. “Don’t look back. Don’t stop. Don’t look back,” she’s sobbing.

I’m teetering on the edge of a catastrophic meltdown when a realization cuts through my grief. It rips through the darkness. Vivian is still here. There is no one else to pick up the pieces of our lives. We will never be the same, but I need to be brave. She has no one else. I have to do it for her.

As suddenly as it began, it ends. I suck the oxygen from the air. The fire is extinguished and the ground stops shaking—it all stops. I carefully tuck the rage, the grief, and the anguish away into the spaces of my forgotten memory. Someday I’ll get revenge, but not today.

“Don’t look back,” I agree.

And I collapse.