Page 82 of Feathers From the Sky

“Can I call him?” I ask for the thousandth time. I’ve gone back and forth between staying quiet and begging, and Roman is certainly sick of it. Smoothing my baby-blue dress down over my thighs, I can’t stop staring at my hands. There’s blood beneath my fingernails still, the only evidence of what I’d done. My saturated pants have already been disposed of. Margot thought ahead and packed a change of clothes, and though we are returning from a slaughter, I look better prepared for a date. I adjust the elastic of the sheer sleeves, designed to cinch around my elbow and allow the fabric to flow and poof accordingly. I almost wish I was still wearing my blood-stained pants. Perhaps then I could feel something—even if it’s just the sticky coldness of Susan’s dried blood.

Roman ignores me again, reading a text on his phone. When he tells me it was Margot, letting him know they’re currently paying, I lose my patience. It’s been hours, and he won’t fucking communicate with me. I slam my hands on the dashboard. “Roman! She said he didn’t know! Let me call Hale. Please,” I add.

“No.” When he goes straight through the light and flips on his turn signal for the next intersection, I’m tempted to yank the steering wheel from his hands.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“I’m not some petulant fucking child. I need to…need to—”

“You need to what? Tell your best friend you killed his mother, and you’re just checking to make sure he didn’t betray you as badly as he could have?” Roman snaps.

My inhale of breath is sharp. “Sh-she deserved it. She was going to do awful things to me. She—” I clear my throat. “She is responsible for your brother. I—I don’t feel bad for killing her.” If I hadn’t Ascended, would I have felt guilt? Would I have let her live? He doesn’t spare me a glance. “Her neck snapped really, really easy though. That was…unsettling,” I whisper. “But…I don’t have to tell Hale any of that. Don’t want to tell him, honestly. I just want to see if—if he knew more.”

Roman parallel parks beside the pizza place before clearing his throat. The streetlight outlines his profile in gold, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He has his hair pulled back from his face, but a few strands hang loose. I fight the urge to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, to trace that smooth skin down to his rough beard. The leaves from his tattoo pop up over the collar of his suit. There’s no denying how stunning Roman is. He’s a heartbreak personified as he props his elbow up on the door panel. When he sighs and rubs his chin with his hand in that exasperated way he does, I don’t know how to interpret it.

“I’m trying to make sense of things here, sweetheart. Why didn’t you have wards at your townhouse?”

“Why would I, Roman?” Something close to hatred flickers in his gaze as it sears over me.

“You lived with a sorcerer, at the very least a witch untrained, and his mother had a vested interest in keeping you safe. Where. Were. The. Wards?” When I shake my head, his hand shoots out and grabs my hair in his fist, pulling me close.

“You heard her just as good as I did, asshole.” I hit his arm as hard as I can. “Hale is a human. How could he put up a ward?”

The back door opens as I’m flailing, trying to upright myself. “Whoa, what the fuck?” Margot asks, and the scent of marinara hits me hard enough I want to puke. Roman’s grip doesn’t lessen.

“And I’m just supposed to believe her?” His heaving chest barely contains his rage. His heart is racing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I could see it knocking against his ribs, wanting to beat out of his chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter. If Hale is really human, Susan would have done it. WHERE WERE THE WARDS?” Roman roars.

“I don’t know! Fuck!” When he finally releases me, my scalp is aching. He floors it, and Nico falls into the car as the door slams shut. Roman is flying down the street, weaving in and out of traffic. Grabbing the handle near the ceiling to steady myself, I close my eyes and count to ten.

“Jesus Christ, Roman!” Margot is screaming, and after an entirely too long trip hurtling through the city, Roman finally pulls over.

“Get out of the car, now.” Deadly calm, Roman points to my door. I’m shaking when I grab the handle, but I push the door open and step out. There’s a giant stone gate with three arches, the center wide enough for a car to drive through, and I take a moment to recognize the tombstones beyond it. It’s the entrance to a cemetery. It looks old, perhaps one of the first in the city. A short iron gate blocks the entrance, and Margot’s car blocks my access to the street. I wonder if it’s strategic.

The other three get out of the car, and Roman starts pacing.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Roman,” I say.

“Roman,” Margot starts, gentle. “Just ask her.” Closing my eyes, I inhale, preparing for the storm her words might cause. Admitting he bit me will certainly be a jolt to his pride.

“I can’t,” Roman grits out.

“What?” Pure shock is nothing worse than I expected.

“I can’t compel her anymore.” Nico’s harsh curse makes it clear what he thinks of that. But Roman stops pacing, lifting his hands to cup the back of his head. The moonlight shines down, warring with the street lamp, as they both paint soft strokes of midnight across his face. “But one ofyoucan.”

“No,” I whisper. “I don’t want...” I freeze when he drops his arms. He stares at me like he used to, like he hates me, like he’s considering ripping my heart out once more. Roman has flipped on a dime, and it’s terrifying. “Fine.” I swallow. “Whatever you need from me.”

Roman’s nostrils flair, but he gives no other reaction. “Nico, let her drink from you.”

“Why Nico?” Margot asks, arms crossed.

“Because Nico will do as I say without complaint.”

Nico proves his point, rolling up the sleeve of his sweater as he saunters over to me. My heart is racing, but there’s nothing I can do to get myself out of this. I have to prove myself to Roman. When Nico gives me his arm, I stare into Roman’s eyes as I drink. Nico tastes like I’d expect. There’s almost an astringent undertone to it—clean. When I pull back and lick the blood from my lips, Roman looks away, throat bobbing. Good.

“Ask her why Susan didn’t put wards on her townhouse.” Roman turns away, clasping his hands behind his back. His shoulders are tense as Nico repeats the question, filling his tone with command.

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