Page 82 of We Were Eternal Once

“Does that make you a good teacher?” I ask.

“It does,” Zora says, her smile fleeting. She holds the fake bag at her side like she did the old satchel, her fingers digging into the straps. Is it so she would always have a stake at close range? To kill me?

“There are limestone quarries,” I continue. “Below the city. Have you been?”

“Once or twice,” she says.

“Then you can show me,” I tell her.

“Right now? At night?”

“Is there something to fear?”

“Thieves? Murderers?” she lists off.

“So…us?” I ask.

“Murderers? Hardly,” she scoffs.

“All the better. Will you show me?”

“Yes, I suppose,” she sighs, nodding toward the street for me to follow. I fall into step with her, studying her out of the corner of my eye. She’s worn a hole into her lip from chewing it, her blood a sweet smell on the air. Has her blood always smelled so appetizing, or is it the promise of revenge for her lies that makes it so?

I will find out soon enough.

Zora ducks through the streets, finding the closest entrance to the tunnels, the one I’d hoped she’d use to enter it. She grabs a lantern from in front of a shop to light the way. We drop into the tunnels. I look around, pretending to be impressed.

“It’s too dark in here,” she mumbles, fumbling with the strength of the lamp.

“Come,” I say, grabbing her hand to drag her down a tunnel to our left.

“Melinoë! Where are we going?” she protests, trying to slow our march. I don’t loosen my grip, instead I dig my fingers deeper into her.

“I’ve something to show you,” I say.

“Show me? I thought you’d never been in the tunnels…” She tries to jerk away now, her heels digging into the packed dirt below our feet. She gets no purchase, especially against my stronger pull.

“Just a little farther,” I say.

Her heartbeat speeds, her hand grows clammy. Good. I want her afraid, I want her last moments to be filled with fear. It’s what she deserves.

I let go of her in a small antechamber. The corners are alight by lanterns and candles, casting shadows over the small space. In the center of the room lies Zora’s satchel. Her eyes widen at the sight of it, her gaze darting to me.

“That’s my…”

“Ah, so it is yours. Including this?” I ask, holding up her book.

“Melinoë…wait,” she says, lifting her hands in a motion of surrender. She takes a step back toward the tunnel we just came from. I picked this room for this exact reason—there is only one way in and one way out. I circle her to stand between her and her exit.

She is stuck underground with the very thing she was raised to hunt. She will not come out of this alive, and she knows it. She darts for her satchel, pulling out the cross and brandishing it at me.

“Stay back!” she yells.

I step toward her. She matches every step I take with a desperate one backward until her back is pressed into the wall. I take the cross from her hand, considering it. “What was your plan? To bash me over the head with it?”

“I-it’s…” she stammers, her eyes wide on the cross in my hand. “It’s supposed to harm you.”

“Why should it?”