I shrugged. “I got to have sex nonstop, no blame, no shame. You kidding me? Compared to the rest of my life, that was a joy.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, “But not something you’d care to repeat in full possession of your senses.”
“It was …” I searched for words to explain.
He was motionless, waiting.
“Like Halloween. When people rioted. They loot. Do crazy things.”
“You’re saying Pri-ya was a blackout.”
I nodded. “So what do I do?”
“You pull your fucking—” He bared his teeth on a silent snarl and looked away. When he looked back again, his face was a cool mask of urbanity. “You choose what you can live with. And what you can’t live without. That’s what.”
“You mean can I live with killing her? Can I stand myself if I don’t kill her?”
“I mean can you live without her. You kill her, you snuff her life forever. Dani will never be again. At fourteen, she’ll be done. She had her chances, she fucked up, she lost. Are you ready to be her judge, jury, and executioner?”
I swallowed and dropped my head, shielding myself with hair as if I could hide behind it and not have to come out. “You’re saying I won’t like myself.”
“I think you’d deal with it fine. You find places to put things. I know how you work. I’ve seen you kill. I think O’Bannion and his men were the hardest for you because they were your first humans, but after that, you took to it with a bit of stone cold. But this would be a chosen killing. Premeditated. It makes you breathe different. To swim in that sea, you have to grow gills.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you telling me to kill her?”
“Some actions change you for the better. Some for the worse. Be sure which one it is and accept it before you do anything. Death, for Dani, is irrevocable.”
“Would you kill her?”
I could tell he was uncomfortable with the question, but I didn’t know why.
After a strained silence, he said, “If that’s what you want, yes. I’ll kill her for you.”
“That’s not what I—no, I wasn’t asking you to kill her for me. I was asking if you would in my shoes.”
“The shoes you wear are beyond my ability to fathom. It’s been too long.”
“You’re not going to tell me what to do, are you?” I wanted him to. I didn’t want any of the responsibility for this. I wanted someone to blame if I didn’t like how it turned out.
“I respect you more than that.”
I almost fell off the couch. I parted my hair and looked up at him, but he was no longer squatting in front of me. He’d stood and moved away.
“Are we, like, having a conversation?”
“Did you just, like, ask me for advice and listen with an open mind? If so, then yes, I would call this a conversation. I can see how you might not recognize it, considering all I usually get from you is attitude and hostility—”
“Oh! All I ever get from you is hostility and—”
“And here we go. She’s bristling and my hackles go up. Bloody hell, I feel fangs coming on. Tell you what, Ms. Lane,” he said softly, “anytime you want to have a conversation with me, leave the myriad issues you have with wanting to fuck me every time you look at me outside my cave, come on in, and see what you find. You might like it.”
He turned and began moving toward the entrance to the rear part of the store.
“Wait! I still don’t know what to do about Dani.”
“Then that’s your answer for now.” He stopped at the door and glanced back at me. “How much longer will you dissemble?”
“Who uses words like dissemble?”
He leaned back against the door and folded his arms. “I won’t wait much longer. You’re on your last chance with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” What was he saying? Would Barrons walk away from me? Me? He never walked away from me. He was the one who would always keep me alive. And always want me. I’d come to count on those things like I counted on air and food.
“During a blackout, people do what they’ve wanted to do all along but have repressed, afraid of the consequences. Worried what others might think of them. Afraid of what they’ll see in themselves. Or simply unwilling to get punished by the society that governs them. You don’t care what other people think anymore. Nobody’s going to punish you. Which raises the question: Why are you still afraid of me? What haven’t you wrapped your head around yet?”
I stared at him.
“I want the woman I think you are. But the longer you dissemble, the more I think I made a mistake. Saw things in you that weren’t there.”
I fisted my hands and bit down a protest. He made me feel so conflicted. I wanted to shout, You didn’t make a mistake. I am her! I wanted to cut my losses and run before the devil owned more of my soul.
“There was purity in that basement. That’s the way I live. There was a time I thought you did, too.”
I did, I wanted to say. I do.
“Some things are sacred. Until you act like they’re not. Then you lose them.”
The door swung silently shut.