We left Abraham and Ailech to discuss ways of controlling Malachi. Nevaeh and Kael were shown to their rooms, just down the hall from Jordan and mine to rest after the mad dash of the past two days. And then I was alone with my Pair.

She had hardly looked at me since we severed Malachi from my father's eyes. And when she went directly to her room, I followed. I was so tired, so worn thin, I didn't want to have the conversation we were about to. But Jordan was worth it, she deserved it. And I was trying to be different, more, for her.

"What is this?" I motioned to her, and how she was still avoiding my eyes, as I closed the door behind me. "What did I do?"

I genuinely didn't know, and though I normally would have just waited for it to pass, I didn't want to with Jordan, with the connection we had. And if hard conversations I'd rather not have were the price, it was a price worth paying.

She looked up briefly before making herself suspiciously busy unpacking her bag.

"I saw...it's hard to look at you without...it's hard to have him here."

"You mean it's hard to be confronted with the evidence of what I've done? Not just have a vague idea, the knowledge, but actually see the direct result of my past actions? Trust me, I know. That's been my entire life, always seeing the destruction I caused. Even when I try to do the right thing, like with Kael, he still looks at me differently, knowing about Ambriel. Even Nevaeh, knowing what I am, there's something different in their eyes."

I paused as I decided how far I wanted to go, how far I was willing to open myself. But then Jordan's storm cloud eyes found mine, reminding me that I could tell her, that I had to trust her.

"I can't have you look at me like that too. Tell me, anything, what do I have to do to fix this?"

Her shoulders dropped as she sat on her bed, twisting the small ring on her finger, and I knew I wouldn't like her answer.

"You can't do anything about this. Neither of us can take back what we've done to people. And saving one life doesn't bring another back that we've taken. Good and evil don't work that way, one doesn't erase the other, or even lessen the other. We've both done terrible things. And we can't undo them, we can't give people their lives back, take their pain back. We can just do the next right thing, and the next. And, when we get the chance, apologize for what we've done, who we've hurt. I know that's what you're doing with Malachi, I get it, but it'll still always be hard to know what you were, what you did to him. It will always be a part of you. Of me too. The things I did when I was with Jevin..."

"You didn't have a choice," I interjected.

"There will always be an excuse. You had a harder choice under your father, but that doesn't clean us of guilt either. Nothing can take that, can erase it."

"What did Malachi show you?" I asked quietly, not wanting to know, but needing to.

"Pain. Just snippets of it, from Grayson, your father after you left, but mainly - from you. You tortured him for years, but he admired you, he looked up to you. And then you left. I...I don't blame him for hating you."

Her words struck me harder than expected, but she was right. No matter what I did, how good I tried to be, it wouldn't take away the evil I had done, that's not how life works, how choices work. They aren't paint you mix together, hoping to end with a lighter color, they are individual stones, light or dark, and having a thousand light ones won't bleach the dark ones. They will always still be there.

I didn't blame Malachi for hating me either. Maybe if he had seen any of my good, any of my changes, but he had only ever gotten one thing from me. Pain. And maybe it didn't matter what he saw in me now because he was a Half and didn't have anything inside, anything salvageable at least. But for some reason I didn't believe that. He had been so rare when we were young, so different. He had a heart, he always had. I just hoped it was still there.

"I don't either, I don't blame him for so much. He should hate me for what I did to him, how I treated him, but I feel the most guilt about leaving him to my father. The training and how I acted around him, I didn't even know that wasn't normal, because for us it was. But I knew when I left that he would be punished, that he was losing his shield and he would take all of my father's attention. I knew what I was doing would hurt him, and I knew that wasn't normal by then, wasn't right. But I still did it, I still saved myself instead."

I sat on the bed next to her, wanting to lay back and sleep, to forget everything for just a couple of hours, to feel nothing, peace. But there would never be peace for me, not really. If Malachi's presence had taught me anything, it was that my bloody, rusted past would never allow for peace.

"What do I do now?" I heard the weariness in my own voice, but I didn't have the energy to mask it, and I didn't want to from Jordan. I didn't need to.

I felt her eyes on me then, but we were sitting too close and it would have felt too intimate to face her, so I didn't. I looked straight ahead, watching the door instead, wishing I had left it open for a swift exit.

Jordan laid back, her legs hanging off the side of the bed, pulling me back with a gentle tug until we were next to each other, our arms brushing.

"You should ask him that, not me. But first, you need to rest."

» ✦ «

A great entryway shone before me, like a palace. The ceiling arched high above my head, a grand staircase curved ahead, and buffed tiles gleamed under my feet, reflecting a warped, shadowed vision of myself. The entire room ran with wealth, sang of opulence. The brightest of whites, the purest of golds, the deepest of blacks; everything around me was richer than I could have ever imagined.

My eyes wandered the room, finding each new detail more decadent than the last, each fabric and stone more fine than the last. Though I knew I had never been here before, I knew I had never been in the presence of such grandeur, the room felt familiar in a distant way. Suddenly, I felt eyes on me and the air sizzled with something that made the hair on my arms raise.

A man appeared just ten feet away, a man I knew, though I had never seen his face before, not fully. Everything seemed familiar, yet somehow still new. The man was devastatingly handsome, with dark hair like oil and tanned skin, his eyes a blue so deep they were almost black. They pierced me, gluing me to the spot I stood, his presence surrounding me, pouring into me, his power overwhelming.

Before he spoke I knew what his voice would sound like, I had heard it many times before. I knew how smooth and perfect it would be before it ever touched the air, like silk to my ears and needles to my soul. He was the devil, a demon, a man I hated more than anyone else in this world. I was finally facing the Collector.

"Oh little Batnae, you're so stubborn. I can see the hate in your eyes, how misguided you are, how led astray. They're poisoning you, you know, feeding you lies to turn you against the only one who can help you, the only one worthy of your loyalty, who knows what you really are. They will lose, and if you stay with them, then you will lose too. I can save you from it, from so much pain if you'll only join me now."

Even though I hated him, even though every fiber of my being loathed the monster in front of me, his words pulled at me, his voice so persuasive, his gaze so enchanting, mesmerizing. I wanted to know what he knew - what was I? What could he share? Could he save my friends too? Stop any of us from having to fight, to die?

I tore my eyes from his, staring above his head instead, trying to focus my thoughts, my emotions. I hated him, he was the purest of evils and I wouldn't be tricked, I wouldn't be swayed, no matter what he said, what he promised.

"Burn in Hell."

A feather of shock passed over his glorious face, a small line on his brow, only for a second, but I felt a surge of triumph. He hadn't expected me to deny him, he had thought I was still weak, like the last time he had tried to persuade me. I knew exactly where my loyalties fell now, and it would never be with him, never be with the man who had murdered Syn, who had tried so hard to ruin my Pair, time and time again. Who had tortured his own son, and Malachi, and countless others, for years. I would never stand by his side, I knew that.

"You sound like my son, little girl. And that arrogance will cost you."

His voice was dark now, dangerous. I had upset him and at the same time that I felt proud of the accomplishment, a deep fear settled into my chest, a shiver in my mind like there was an icy shard embedded deep. His threat made my skin prickle, my mind flick between all the things he could mean, all the damage he could inflict. I remembered the terror I had felt in Malachi's mind for the Collector. But then a feeling of calm washed over me. I would rather he torture and kill me than ever be his. I would rather endure whatever he could think up than ever do his bidding, ever give him my allegiance, my soul.

I straightened my shoulders and leveled my eyes with his once more, ready to accept whatever fate found me, nothing would change my mind. James had defied him, even as a child, he had left and created his own path, made his own choices, I would do the same.

A door opened somewhere to my right, and I felt my Shift jump in me, sensing who it was even before I looked. James stumbled in, falling to his knees before his father, his dark hair hiding his face as he hung his head. He had heavy chains around his hands, feet, and neck, their dull gleam all too familiar to me.

I could never have pictured my Pair like he was before me now, weak and beaten and barely able to hold himself up, to stop himself from collapsing to the floor. James was strong in my mind, a warrior, and it hurt to see him so defeated, so broken. The breath in my lungs froze, my heart refusing to beat until I saw his eyes rise to mine, his beautiful, midnight eyes, the ones I had dreamt of for months, the ones that made my soul sing just from one look, one smirk.

I almost wished his eyes would have looked dull, empty, I almost wished they looked like they had when he was a shell, a ghost, it would have made it easier, would have made me feel like it wasn't really him, wasn't really my Twin before me. But when his eyes met mine they held such fire, such anger and defiance in their depths, I knew they were my Pair's, my James'.

I took a step toward him, my hand reaching out, everything in me wanted to run to him and wrap myself around him, shield him from his father, take his place. But James moved his head to the side, just barely, just the slightest of movements, but it was clear he was telling me to stop, to stay where I was. His father stood close behind him, his eyes on his son's back, a sneer pulling at his lips, making his perfect face look deformed.

"I warned you, little brat, dear Batnae. I told you I could save you from pain, but I cannot save you if you choose it, if it is what you desire. So, I will ask you only once more, do you want to be triumphant and powerful standing by my side, or do you want to feel your mind break as you watch my son die before you? It is clear I cannot have you both, together you are too willful. Your disobedience feeds off one another, but one of you, one of you is enough, and I'm sick of this one, tired of all the work I put into him, all the gifts I gave, only to have him despise me for it."

As the Collector spoke, he grabbed James' hair, pulling his head back until he could look down into his son's eyes. James winced at his father's touch and I felt my chest tighten, coiled so tight I thought my heart might break from sheer pressure alone. But then I saw James staring up into his father's eyes. I saw the hatred there, the revulsion, the strength and determination. He knew he was about to die, but he wasn't bending. He wasn't unafraid, I could see the fear deep in his eyes, but he still wouldn't submit, even with the consequences, even with the fear. And that was true strength, true courage in my mind.

"You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can do whatever you want to us. But we will never side with you, either of us, ever."

My words were ground out from behind pointed teeth, though I couldn't remember when my Shift had covered me. My fists were shaking at my sides, the tension in my body begging to let me spring at him, to let me kill him. My nature was screaming for his blood, to rip his hand from my Pair, to stop him from ever hurting him again, ever touching him again.

"You surprise me. I thought you cared for him more, I thought you would want to save him from Hell, from burning for all he has done, from the torture he's about to be consumed by. I could do it myself of course, keep him in this world until he begged mercy, but I've had enough time with him already."

The Collector stroked his son's cheek gently with one hand. His grip on James' hair tightening as he tried to turn, to flinch away from the gentle touch.

"But when I kill him, he won't cease to exist, know that. He won't have peace when he dies. Oh no, I choose where he goes, that is the power I have over him. And I will send him to the deepest circle of Hell, so buried in misery and despair you'll never find him. I'll grant you one favor though, I'll let you hear him, even from beyond this world. I want you to be able to hear his screams for the rest of your life, little Angel, and remember where your choice sent him. All because you refuse to be mine. Say goodbye, you'll never see your precious Pair again."

He held a fine, mirrored knife to James' throat, the blade pressing into his skin, right below the white scar that ran across his neck, the scar from when he had tried to take his own life when he was just a child, not wanting to live under his father anymore, not wanting to be used by him. My Shift stiffened, panic seeping into my mind. With every word the Collector had said my heart grew colder, with each word I felt the air leave my lungs a little more, the blood slow in my veins. My body pulled down to a half-dead stupor. My mind couldn't work correctly, my thoughts couldn't connect to each other, I only knew one thing; I couldn't let James die.

I couldn't let him go to Hell. I couldn't live without him, I didn't want to. I opened my mouth to speak, my mind trying to silence me, but something else, something stronger needed to save him, needed my Pair, my Twin. I couldn't live without him, not again, not permanently. I wouldn't survive. And I couldn't watch him die, watch the fire leave his beautiful eyes once and for all.

The Collector was right; it would break me, my mind and spirit and soul. I would cease to exist when he did, and if I had to live on knowing I hadn't saved him, knowing I had let him go to Hell, I would rather take his place a thousand times over. I would bring the world to its knees. I would let it all burn. I would make it burn. I would do anything to save James, I always would.

I felt the words on my tongue, I knew I was about to give myself to the Collector. I could taste it, see it, feel it inside of me. What choice did I have? I didn't. I couldn't beat him, I couldn't do anything except save my Pair, save the only person I wasn't willing to lose.

But then my mouth closed, my lips sealed, the fear in me subsiding, the dread melting away.

This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. How had I gotten here? How had James' father found us? When had he captured us? Why wasn't I fighting him, killing him? Why was James kneeling there? Why wasn't he fighting back?

This wasn't real, this was a dream, a nightmare, something the Collector had sent to torture me, to make me give in to him, even if only in sleep. This was just a trick to make me one step closer to being willing to join him. He was trying to weaken my resolve, to make me see all the horrors he could do if I refused him. But it wouldn't work. This wasn't real. He didn't have James, so he couldn't kill James, and he couldn't send him to Hell. Everything he had said was a lie. If he had the power or not, it didn't matter, because he couldn't hurt me today, he couldn't hurt James today. None of this was real.

My Shift stretched a smile across my face, my hands relaxing at my sides, the stress in my body slowly unwinding. The Collector's face took on a look of mild confusion as he watched the changes in me, his jaw setting as he froze, the knife still at James' neck.

I felt my Sign begging to be used and I focused everything I could on the damned being in front of me, on the man who would kill my Pair if he ever had the chance, who had tortured him for years, twisting him into a monster even as a child, using him as a weapon, seeing only his power, not his soul. I hated the man before me, and his trick wouldn't work. I knew this wasn't real, this was just his mind working within mine. But it was my mind, not his but mine to control. My dreams, my thoughts, my mind.

I sent out my Sign to him, but I felt it come differently. It wasn't just my Sign, my Air, it was my Pair's as well. A sheet of blue flames and burning wind flew from me toward the man holding my Pair, toward the man I would one day kill in consciousness just as I was about to in sleep. His eyes went wide as he saw the blazing wall coming for him, and he let go of James, who fell forward, his hands breaking his fall on the tile, his chains clattering as they hit.

My Sign surrounded the Collector then, swirling around him like an inferno, a tornado of power and hate and fire tearing at his clothes, burning through his skin and disintegrating him until nothing but a pile of ash lay where he had stood. I felt my heart leap, though I knew it was only a dream.

When the wind settled and I could pull my eyes away from the pile of gray sand the Collector had become, James was nowhere to be seen. A moment later the dream began to swirl, almost melt, as the hall I stood in became watery and distant, farther and farther away. Then my eyes opened.