Rosemary and Rue

“Since he’s planning to kill me anyway, I don’t see where that changes things.” I hit the button, ignoring the broken glass. It was too late for a little more blood to make a difference. “I know you’re there, Devin. It’s time for you to be out here.” Stepping back, I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Devin’s voice crackled over the intercom, saying “Toby? What’s going on? Where did you go?” There was fear there. Not much, but if I’d needed any further confirmation, that would have been enough to give it to me.

I pushed the button down again. “I know, Devin.”

“You know what?”

“I know everything. I know who you hired, and when, and how.” I was extemporizing wildly, but he had no way of knowing that. “I know about the men you sent to kill me. I know you seduced me because you thought it might get you what you wanted. I know my shoulder will never be the same and I may never sleep again and you’d better get your ass out here right now.” The last words were practically a hiss, my fury boiling over. He betrayed Evening, and he betrayed me. There was no way I was forgiving that.

The intercom was silent. I turned to point the gun in my hand toward the door to the back hall. After several endless minutes it swung open and Devin stepped out, holding up empty hands in surrender.

“It didn’t have to be like this, Toby,” he said, voice weary in defeat. The brightness of his eyes had faded, turning slate gray, like a storm had come to his private sky. It had to happen eventually; October always brings rain, even in California.

“You killed her.”

“You have no proof of that.”

I kept the gun aimed squarely at his chest. “Pretty sure the Queen wouldn’t see things that way.”

“Pretty sure you’re not planning to take me to her Court to find out.” He shook his head. “I never wanted to lie to you, October. Why wouldn’t you just . . . let it go? We could have been happy. Finally happy. I really do love you. I always have.”

“Why, Devin? Root and branch, why did you do this?”

“Because I’m going to live forever.” There was a challenge in his eyes. “Maybe you’re willing to settle for changeling time, but I’m not. The purebloods could give us all immortality, but they refuse, because we’re ‘not good enough.’ If they won’t give me what’s mine, I’ll take it. That’s all I’ve been doing. Taking what belongs to me.”

“That’s sick.”

“That’s the way the world works. What, are you happy that you’re going to die? Do you enjoy waking up every morning and realizing your body got a little bit closer to breaking in the night? Because I don’t. We could have lived forever, together, if you’d just let it go.”

“You had Evening killed because you wanted to be immortal?”

“No,” he said. A small knot of pain let go in my shoulders, only to snarl tighter than ever before when he continued, “that’s why I killed her myself.”

That was the one thing I hadn’t allowed myself to consider: that he could have held the knife. “You bastard,” I whispered.

“I paid three Redcaps to hold her down while I slit her throat. She screamed, Toby. You should have heard her. It was like music . . . but it was too late. The key was gone, and it wasn’t over yet. Everything after that could have been avoided if she’d just listened to me.”

“Devin . . .”

“You always had so many illusions—sort of funny for someone as inept with them as you are. I tried so hard to beat them out of you.” His smile was proprietary. “I could’ve managed it if you’d given me a few more years. You could be standing beside me now, on the right side. You could understand.”

“I don’t want to understand,” I said. “You make me sick.”