Page 131 of In Between Death and the Devil

“Feeding?” He laughed, short and high, too high to be natural. “That’s not what happened.”

“Oh, really? What, then?”

“I just told you.” He was outwardly calm, except for the way his eyes darted around the room, unable to settle on one spot. The gold flecks surrounding his iris whirled so fast I could barely see the brown in them.

“Liar. He was in pain,” I pointed to Colt who was murmuring something that sounded like I deserve it over and over.

“Working through the past is often painful.” His dismissal felt like a slap.

“Don’t do this. Don’t lie to me. I felt it.”

Fen flinched at my words.

“What’s going on?” Titus’s voice sounded behind me.

“Fen was feeding on a soul.” I crossed my arms, suddenly cold.

Fen scoffed, but Titus looked at Colt and frowned, like a soul should not be in that state. His reaction both soothed and terrified me.

Marcus crossed the room with a similar expression on his face. Grabbing a ragged blanket off the cot in the corner, he knelt and covered Colt with it.

“Let’s move this conversation to another room,” Titus said, ushering me towards the door.

“Why?” Fen said. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“That is not normal,” Titus said, his voice hard, pointing to where Marcus was soothing Colt with soft words and gentle touches. “None of us would be in here with a soul like that without another Tempter. Besides, there’s nothing you can do with him now.”

Fen looked like he wanted to argue, but after staring at the three of us he just shrugged and sauntered out of the room.

“Are you alright?” Titus asked quietly as he led me to a room three doors down.

My throat was too tight to answer so I just wobbled my head back and forth. Physically I was okay, if a bit sore, but I was confused and terrified of the way Fen was acting. I’d seen glimpses of this kind of behavior from him, but nothing this extreme. It was like he was an entirely different person.

The room we entered looked nothing like the one we’d just left. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a light gray, neither stone nor wood, and it was completely empty. It was like standing inside a blank canvas. Fen was already there standing in the middle, arms crossed, expression shuttered. As soon as we walked in, the room shifted. Wood floors and a carpet appeared under our feet; shadow and wood walls, like the ones in Fen’s office, took shape along with a fireplace with a cheerful blaze in the grate. Two leather couches and a side table appeared next, and sconces lit up on the walls. A comfortable place for an uncomfortable conversation.

“The cells become whatever the occupants need, or will allow,” Titus said at my confused expression.

This place never ceased to amaze me.

Marcus joined us a few moments later, nodding to Titus, as if to indicate Colt had been taken care of for the moment.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. Titus and Marcus were clearly worried, and yet Fen acted like nothing was wrong. Like his friends’ concern, and mine, was an imposition.

I wrapped my arms around myself. It felt so wrong, like everything was teetering on the edge of a cliff and one wrong move might send us tumbling off.

“Well?” Fen asked as Marcus shut the door. “You want to talk, so talk.” He sat down and crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

“Why were you alone with that soul when he was in that state?” Titus asked.

“I had everything under control.”

“He was catatonic,” Marcus said.

“I was just about to go for help.” Fen waved his hand lazily.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time working with a soul lately,” Titus said. “Was it that one?”

Fen shut his mouth and crossed his arms.