Page 230 of Fangs
He stared at me, and I didn’t know how to read the expression on his face.
“I need to know if I can trust you,” he finally said, and Ifelthis power stir to life—shadows emerging to twine around his legs—but after everything he’d put me through, that statement infuriated me.
I scoffed, furious. “You need to know ifyou?—”
“Ember,” he interrupted me, his voice thundering through the darkness. “This is much bigger than just you and me. To defeat the Voiceless, we have to form an alliance.”
I took a deep breath and tried to choke my anger down. “What does that mean?”
“I can share some information with you, but you have to allow me to place a string in your head.”
“What the fuck doesthatmean?”
“It’s a small bit of my magic.” He glanced away, and I noticed his ears were pink. “When I was a kid, the best way I could describe my magic was like strings connecting me to other people. I could use them to control other people, or I could cut them and leave pieces of myself with them, giving me a smaller bit of control without contact. I started calling them ‘strings,’ which just stuck.”
I stared at him, my heart rate picking up speed. “String like a…a puppet?”
He winced. “I know this requires a large degree of your trust. I am only taking this precaution because this knowledge does not just endanger you or me. In this case, the string would simply prevent you from sharing the information I give you.”
“How am I supposed to know you aren’t lying, that you won’t use this string to control me?” I snapped.
He took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know.”
I tried to think, tried to imagine what Wolf would do. “Is there anything you can tell me? Information you can give me in exchange for my trust?”
“I can tell you that I could easily force this string into your head, but I won’t.”
Fear made my head swim, and I scrambled to my feet. “That doesn’t fuckin’ help.”
He sighed.“I can show you my true self,” he said in a low voice.
“I can already see your true self.”
“No, you see my ideal self,” he corrected me, and then shadows seemed to pour from him.
He disappeared from view as the shadows enveloped me, and I could’ve sworn they caressed my face as they passed. As they faded, I stared at the person who emerged. He had the same face, stark white curls, and bright blue eyes, but the tall, graceful body and lean muscles were gone. He was thin and gaunt in a way that reminded me of Sam, but much worse, and sat in a wheeled chair. I dragged my eyes back up to his face to see him watching me. His mouth twisted in a bitter mockery of a smile.
“Behold, the terrifying figure of the God of Death.”
“Are you sick?” I blurted out.
“Yes,” he answered, eyes fixed on mine. “My powers are killing me.”
I felt a prickle of horror for him. “Why?”
“Because I need you.”
“What?” My voice sharpened.
“Our powers were never meant to be separated,” he said. “They need balance.”
My eyes narrowed. That sounded like what fucking Talmar said. “And how would they be balanced?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, surprising me.
“Then how do you know my powers would help you at all?” I demanded.
He studied me for several breaths, then sighed, closing his eyes like he was resigning himself. “Because you’ve healed me before,” he murmured.
