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“Thinking I was dead was the only way for us to escape.” Eudora smirks. “I’m sure you know howpersistenthe can be.”
“Why involve me?”
“Because you’re the only one strong enough to kill him,” she answers simply. “Other than us, of course.”
“I tried that already. It didn’t work very well.” My mind flashes to Francis and her crumpled body after the explosion.
“That’s because you didn’t have my help,” Eudora adds.
“Wouldn’t that be considered a direct result when it comes to his death?” Thorne asks the question everyone in the room is thinking.
“Semantics,” she answers, reminding me of Kragen’s words not long ago.
“What’s in it for us?” I ask, looking around the room.
The goddess crosses her arms in front of her chest and directs her attention directly toward me. “Freedom.”
“I’m already free,” I lie. I haven’t been free from the moment Kragen took me from Thorne’s ship.
TWO
a horde of what now?
We leavethe house with a promise of more contact and nothing else to go on. No plan, no secret contact method, nothing. In other words, we know nothing more than we did before. Thorne’s energy has been off since leaving Eudora and Marnie, and I know why without asking. It’s not until we’re several streets over that he speaks for the first time, confirming my suspicion.
“What the hell were you thinking, Elsie?” he asks once we’re out of earshot of the goddess.
I stop walking, turning toward the man I’ve loved for three centuries. “What wasIthinking? I was thinking that she’s the bitch who caused all of this to happen. If Kragen hadn’t thought she was dead and taken revenge on you, none of this would’ve happened.”
“It did happen,” he retorts. “You can’t change the past. You can only look toward the future.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” I continue walking.
A large hand on my arm stops my movement. “Elsie, I understand that you’re angry. I’m angry, too. If you can stop Kragen, then you should do it.”
“If you think for one minute that woman back there doesn’t have ulterior motives, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
“Damn, Elsbeth,” Luna says, moving in front of us. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but you’re not acting like yourself.”
“Maybe neither of you has seen the real me.” I turn, leaving them standing on the sidewalk. Thorne calls through my mind several times, but I push his words away. Moving toward the river, the smell of blood fills my soul. I’ve lost track of the last time I ate. The damn goat’s blood isn’t working for me, which might explain the bitchiness I feel.
The sun is beginning to set over the horizon, casting a colorful glow on the city behind me. I close my eyes, allowing my senses to lead me toward my next meal. The meal I’ve deprived myself of for the past few months. It doesn’t take long to find it. The smell of alcohol hits me before the scent of O negative—my favorite—does.
I turn, finding the source of the smell, staggering his way down the sidewalk. Stepping in front of him, I block his path, stopping him in his tracks.
“Excuse me,” he slurs.
“No, excuse me.” I make eye contact with him, reaching to touch his shoulder. “Do you need help?”
He burps loudly. “No, thank you. I’m good.” He moves around me, nearly falling as he steps off the sidewalk.
Wrapping my arm through his, I pull him close to my side. “Let me help you.”
“You’re pretty,” he stumbles over his words. “You remind me of my daughter.”
“That’s sweet,” I answer, pulling him closer toward the recesses of the riverbank. “How old is she?”
“She was twenty.” He immediately starts crying, catching me off guard. “My wife and I are in town for her funeral.”
