Page 225 of Coal Hearts

No shred of the man who’d begged me to play along with him existed.

He was merely an animal that’d prowled out of its cage—a beast slowly growing accustomed to its new freedom. “If you must know, Vic, I brought it as protection.”

“Protection? From what?”

“From you.”

Victor scowled. “Why would you need protection from me? We’re the same...you and I. Or at least...that’s what you’ve attempted to convince me of. Whether I believe it or not remains to be seen.”

Henri shrugged and flicked open the switchblade. He hissed under his breath as he ran his thumb along the sharp, pointy end. “To be honest, I’m having a hard time remembering much right now. My mind is quiet for the first time in decades. My thoughts are so fucking calm, it’s eerie.” He slur-chuckled and tapped his temple with an unbalanced sway. “Must be the booze.”

“Possibly. Or...it’s because you’re finally done with bullshit. I saw the change in you when she kicked you. I see it still.” Victor studied Henri before standing and gliding like a creature of the night toward a narrow chest of drawers. “I’m still open to killing you if you don’t fully step into who you truly are, but...I’m willing to see how far you’ll take this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were finally waking up—just like you said—and that’s why you’re no longer afraid.”

Opening a drawer, he rummaged around before removing something. Oiling his way back to Henri, he said, “Hold out your hand.”

Henri spread his fingers and offered his palm, his arm unsteady. “I’m not afraid of you, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Victor smiled like a doting father as he dropped the item into Henri’s grip. “You were afraid of yourself.”

Henri shuddered and fisted the item. “Fuck yes, I’m afraid of myself. I’ve been afraid all my life.”

“And now?” Victor crossed his arms. “How do you feel?”

For a moment, Henri didn’t answer. He studied whatever Victor had given him before his imaginary, drug-given wings flared with a dry rustle of skin and bone.

And when he spoke, I felt it in the core of me.

“For the first time in my life, I’m not nauseous.”

“Nauseous?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to explain that one because I don’t follow.”

With a heavy sigh, Henri blinked as if he finally saw the truth.

A truth that he could be honest about things he’d hidden from all his life.

A different sort of confession to the ones he’d given me.

A real confession.

Wiping his mouth and schooling his tongue not to give in to drunken slurs, Henri muttered, “All my life, I’ve felt sick if I ever contemplated taking what I needed. I gagged on the poison inside me. I begged to throw up this curse before it killed me. But now...” His chin tipped up. His eyes locked on mine. “That sickness is gone. I feel so fucking strong. Like I’m invincible. Untouchable...”

My mind blended fact and fiction as Henri prowled toward me and pressed the knife against my cheek. “I’m really, truly free.”

I sucked in a breath.

He forgot about Victor.

He spared no thought for Peter.

It was just him and me.

Bad and good.

Alive and dead.

“Do you know what I wanted to do when I first saw you at the bar, Ily?” He dragged the sharp, sharp knife down my chin, along my throat, and over my flimsy white negligée. “I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to bend you over right there and fuck you hard enough to make you scream.”

I couldn’t catch a proper breath as he swirled the dagger around my nipple.