Page 111 of Nearly Dead

What I’ve become.

The elevator doors open as we near them.It’s operated by a being that’s more shadow than substance.

“State your business,” it whispers.

“Council summons,” Costin replies, handing over the ornate invitation.

The shadow-operator makes a sound like rustling leaves, then presses a button that wasn’t there a moment before.He disappears.

Costin and I ascend in the glass elevator, traveling sixty floors above New York City.

“Ready?”Costin asks, adjusting his tie with the precise movements of someone who’s attended a thousand such political gatherings.He’s all in black except for a crimson pocket square.The dark waves of his hair are slicked back.

I study my charcoal pantsuit reflected in the elevator walls.I hate to admit I took a page out of Astrid’s playbook when picking the outfit.My eyes still flash with hybrid power when I’m not careful.I watch them change, trying to control it.The silver threading catches the light and draws my gaze to the white gold butterfly brooch Costin gave me.He says it’s a symbol of how far I’ve come.

“As I’ll ever be,” I finally answer as the elevator doors open, depositing us in an opulent reception area.“Though I can think of better ways to spend the evening.”

His lips twitch to suppress a smile.We’ve barely left his bed since the battle, finding solace in each other as we process everything that’s happened.The loss of Elizabeth still weighs on him, but there’s a new freedom in his movements, a lightness I’ve never seen before.The few times we do emerge it’s to find his home has become our unofficial headquarters since the battle, with various allies coming and going.

The taste of victory is surprisingly bitter.I thought defeating Elizabeth and Mortimer would feel like freedom.Instead, as we walk toward the ornate doors of the supernatural council’s conference room, it feels like trading one cage for another.

His hand brushes my cheek.“Be careful, Tamara.The council respects strength, but they fear chaos more.”

“You think they’ll still see me as the threat?”

“I think they’ll see you as an opportunity,” he corrects.“And in supernatural politics, that can be more dangerous.”

We near the doors.

“The hybrid must be controlled.”The words echo from inside before I even enter.

I pause outside the conference room, my enhanced hearing picking up the heated debate within.

“This battle was not sanctioned,” a man answers.

A woman laughs.“Since when are fights sanctioned in our world?Do you really want to have to regulate every supernatural dispute?”

Costin’s eyes meet mine in silent question.I straighten my shoulders and nod.Under my breath, I say, “Let them question.We did them a favor.”

I’m done being controlled.

“Come in,” the woman calls as if sensing we’re here.

“Elder Vasilisa?”I mouth to Costin.He nods that my guess is correct.

The sound of footsteps run behind us.I turn to find Anthony rushing to our side.His face bright with exertion.“Sorry I’m late.”

I touch his shoulder, brushing a piece of lint from his jacket.

“You’re not going to believe who just arrived,” he says.

“Father?”I guess, already dreading the inevitable posturing.

“Better.Zephronis and he looked pissed,” Anthony says.“He shimmered into the lobby.I blinked and he was gone again.”

“The ancient wizard rarely involves himself directly in council affairs,” Costin says.“He’s been showing himself a great deal lately.”

“I think he might be a little sweet on Tamara,” Anthony teases.

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