Sneaking into my room was harder than I thought. After watching Hunter close the door of his house behind him, I found no other excuse to delay the inevitable. But even I knew better than to show up in front of my father stinking of subway, sweat, and blood. Which is why I tiptoed my way upstairs as quietly as the groaning stairs allowed me to, finding Emilia's crying comforting for the first time in my life when I realized Dad was trying to get her to sleep in her room.

I let the door close behind me and pressed my back against it. It was hard to think properly with my mind whirling and racing like a never-ending roller coaster, but it was even harder with the steady pulsing coming from the leather bag strapped loosely over my shoulder. I knew the blade was still in there; it felt alive. Like it was waiting for me to wrap my hand around its grip again, feed it another bolt energy once I drove its tip into—

I yanked my mind away from the image of light bursting and heat pouring out of bodies like lit fireworks and shoved the bag away from me. I didn't wait to see where it had landed, making a beeline for the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.

It was hard to take in the face staring back at me when I rose my eyes to the mirror, and I wondered if Hunter had simply been a gentleman enough not to point out how disgusting I actually looked. There was blood staining the right sleeve of my blouse, a ripped hole showing my scratched elbow underneath. When I shrugged it off, I found a pattern of bruises where the doors had met my ribs.

It looked worse than it felt, but that didn't stop me from opening the wall cupboard and swallowing two tablets of Advil. For a moment, the image of Glenda doing the same flashed through my mind. I saw her drowning pill after pill, David Harris' body burning in the back of my eyelids, and then—

I could've sworn the ghost of the Shifter's hands was still there, clinging on to my neck, once I looked back up. There were small specks of red bruising my skin here and there, and I was able to feel his fur brushing against my cheek all over again, the air missing from my lungs...

"Olivia?" Dad's voice rang from outside the bathroom's door. I bit down on my lip not to scream. "I didn't know you were home already. Is everything all right?"

"I'm just going to take a shower, Dad. I'll be downstairs in ten minutes so...so we can talk."

"Well, I'll order some pizza, okay?" he said, and I heard his steps moving away from the door. Then I remembered the bag was somewhere in the room. What if he found it and saw the Reaver Blade inside? What could I possibly tell— "Double cheese and extra pepperoni, exactly the way you liked it when you were a kid."

My heart sunk all the way to my stomach, tears clouding my vision. "That sounds great, Dad."

At least some things haven't changed.

The TV was on once I went back downstairs. It was on the local news channel, and I saw Winona Hawkins, the famous news reporter, who had an incident a couple of weeks ago with a presumably believable picture of her working also as a stripper at some club downtown, reading out loud some facts from the paper she held.

"It's been three weeks since the disappearance of multiple people around the state. The Chicago PD continues in search for a lead on the cases, but it seems like no evidence has come through. Multiple warnings have been sent out to the civilians, who have been urged to be vigilant to potential dangers.

"The families of those who have disappeared have reached out on several social media platforms, making a plea to the general public for any information on their relatives' whereabouts. You can find pictures and descriptions of each person on our webpage and on the screen next up. If anyone believes they have any information of their own that can be helpful, we encourage you to call the number for the Missing Persons Unit—"

"It's getting worse," Dad said, his hand on my shoulder. When I looked back at him, I was able to see bags under his eyes. At least I hadn't been the only one who wasn't able to get a good night's sleep. "And what happened to the Harris boy.... I was just talking to your mother. Remember not to mention anything to her, Liv, not until the news get out and she finds out—"

"David's heart was missing," I said. "Don't you find that slightly strange?"

His face remained expressionless. "Well, organ trafficking has never been a normal thing."

"Organ trafficking? Seriously?" My eyebrows peeked, but he said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Can we stop pretending for a second that this is just another outburst of crime and actually acknowledge that something else is happening?"

He took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen, heading straight to the drawers and taking a glass out. "Something else?"

"For Christ's sake, Dad. Yes, something else. Like, you know, maybe Shapeshifters and Vultures and Faeries and—" Infernos. The word lingered in my mind for a second, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, not when I knew Hunter was included in that category. "And other things. Maybe we should focus on those instead of the fake reality I seem to have been living in for the past eighteen years of my life."

He had his back to me, but I noticed his knuckles turning white around the rim of the glass, his muscles tensing through the knit sweater he wore. "Who told you?"

I felt my mouth dropping, and the anxiety I'd felt before morphed into anger. "You won't even deny it, will you?"

He ignored my question, turning around with his eyes set in a deep, copper color. The way they would get whenever he was infuriated—such a rare occurrence that I found myself gasping quietly. "It was that kid from across the street, wasn't it? He's an Inferno." He put down the glass with so much force on the isle I thought it would shatter. "I knew it from the minute I shook his hand that night. It was foolish for me to believe that—"

"Dad," I barked. "Are you listening to yourself? You've hidden all of this from me and you're acting like it's nothing!" His lips parted, but I went on before he could. "And it's not Hunter's fault. If anything, you should thank him. The only reason I'm still alive is because of him." Okay, wrong choice of wording.

"Alive?" His jaw dropped, and I was thankful there was the isle between us. At least if I had to abort the mission and run, I'd have a slight advantage. "What have you not told me, Olivia? What's been happening these two weeks?"

"Why don't we start by you explaining what's been happening the past years instead?" I said. "Because I don't understand how you could hide something like this from me—from Mom."

"How much do you even know?" he mumbled.

"I know enough," I said. "I know about the Veil, about the Forgotten, about what happened to them years ago, about the Infernal Council and the balance of good and evil.... I know about all of it, Dad. The only thing I still don't know is why you lied."

"Because I thought I could protect you," he said, his voice as sharp as the edge of a cliff.

I narrowed a look at him. "How could you protect me from this? What was your plan? Keep me in a bubble of lies for however long you could and then what?"

"Olivia—"

"Two weeks ago I was completely fine, and then suddenly I started seeing these things that no one else could and...and I felt like I was losing my mind, Dad."

"Well, you're not," he said, eyes softening with hidden guilt. He wasn't staring at me anymore, though, but at the marbled designs on the isle. "You're not losing your mind. You've always been able to see this world for what it really is, ever since you were a kid. It's just, as you grew older, you let it become part of the unreal, part of the things that fit into fantasy because you didn't know the amount of truth that lied within them. Like any other kid does."

"But if I'm supposed to be able to see these things, how come—"

"You're not supposed to. That's the thing." With a sigh, he sat down in one of the chairs, his elbows set on the table tiredly.

I shook my head. "I don't understand."

"Let's backtrack a little bit," he proposed. "So you know about the Veil and the Forgotten, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What about Keepers?" he asked. "What do you know about Keepers?"

"I know that we're supposed to keep people safe," I said. "That we have to make sure the Veil doesn't break, and in the meantime we also have to deal with the fact that everyone has a ravenous desire to rip our hearts right out of our chests. It's beautiful. Anyone would envy such a marvelous gift."

"You shouldn't joke about this," he muttered, pressing the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. "And it's more than that. Keepers, we date back to the days when the Veil was first created. We've always been sort of guardians for humans, living like a shadow behind them and killing the monsters under their beds. No paychecks at the end of the month, but at least we guaranteed balance."

I sat down in one of the chairs, my leg muscles finally pulsing with a dull ache from all the running and kicking, and started to play with one of the grapes that had fallen from Mom's fruit bowl. She put it there after getting rid of the old cookie jar when she found out Dad would sneak downstairs to eat from it every night. Now he was obligated to munch on apples and I had no other choice but to hear Jared complain about the lack of snacks in my house.

"If Keepers really are that important," I began, letting the grape roll away from my fingers. "Then why do people now think of them—of us as a myth? They think we're gone."

"Because we are, sweetheart," he said, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. "As much as Keepers were born to protect the human dimension, we are also the only thing that can open a gateway into the other side. The power we hold inside doesn't only allow us to see these things, to see the real world...but it also works as a key. A key that everyone wants to possess." He paused, and I noticed he was pulling one of the loose strings on his sweater.

"Our hearts are the key?"

"Yes. And the only way we could really do our job and prevent the Veil from breaking down was to go into hiding, make it seem like we vanished into thin air. Some of us still get out there and help people, but most Keepers are spread all over the world, hidden and waiting for the day where our gift doesn't resemble a curse." Letting out a long breath, he finished ripping the string. "We're the missing link from the chain, and everyone is desperate to find us."

"What about you?"

"That's a bit complicated," he said. "You see, I was very good at the job. My father didn't want me to continue haunting things and getting out there to protect people since it meant exposing myself, but I didn't care. I'd do it anyway. But then..." he drifted off, and for a moment, I could've sworn the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Then I met your mother."

"I thought you guys met in high school," I said.

"We did. Senior year. I was on my way to a party one night when I felt a Vulture walking around. I could hear it moving in the shadows, preying on something. So I followed its tracks. When I tried to sneak up on it, though, I noticed he was after—"

"Mom. He was following Mom." The story flashed through my mind, the same one I'd heard countless times when they would talk about how they met. "It's the mugger you saved her from."

A lopsided smile curved his lips, and he let out an awkward laugh. "It was a mugger in her eyes, yes."

"So all this time—"

"I could have told her, Liv, I know, but I didn't want that. What happened that night...I felt something I'd never felt before. I actually felt like a Keeper, like I was meant to protect humans. And when your mother and I started dating, I knew my job was to keep her safe. The only way to do that was to bury my past and do whatever I could to hide these things from her." He fumbled for words, almost as if talking about it hurt.

I felt a slash of pain spreading through my chest, and I knew it had nothing to do with the beating I'd gotten earlier on the subway. "Dad, I never knew..."

He wagged his head. "I lied to her. I had to lie to the one person I loved the most, but her life was worth more than those lies. Which is why when she told me she wanted to have a baby, hiding it wasn't enough. I didn't want my kids to have the life I did, didn't want to risk more lives, and I knew someone who could help me." His eyes shone guiltily, his Adam's apple wobbling. "I went to this sorceress. She told me she could suppress my powers, weaken them enough so that the risk of passing them onto you lessened."

His voice cracked, and I had no idea how he was managing not to spill the tears that were building in the corners of his eyes. I'd never seen my father cry; I'd never seen him desperately looking for answers he didn't have. "Hey." My bare feet met the kitchen's floor as I rounded the isle, my hand brushing the first tear that fell down his cheek. "It's not your fault."

He buried his face into his palms. "You don't get it, Olivia. The day you were born, when I first held you...even with my powers being suppressed by magic, I could feel yours. I knew you were a Keeper as well."

"There's nothing you could have done."

"Maybe not back then, but now I can." Dad's eyes met mine one more time as he stood up from the chair. "There's something I want to show you, follow me."

I did as he said and walked behind him, the smell of wet soil and grass crawling into my nose when we stepped into backyard terrace, where Mom kept her painting equipment and Dad stashed his old hunting guns. It was still raining, millions of water drops pattering into silver puddles on the ground. Somewhere, I could still hear thunder coming from downtown, and small glimpses of light shone here and there each time lightning fell.

I looked back at my father, who was now moving a couple of Mom's boxes out of the way to reach his firearms metal rack. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," he murmured, ducking under one of the half-done canvas Mom was working on—a sunset in New York, orange glints shining in the windows of the Empire State building and warm hues of red and yellow were fading into the blue paint of upcoming twilight. It was no surprise that she managed to sell— "Here it is."

Dad pushed something into the wall, and with a loud groan, the gun's rack started moving to the left. I felt my eyes widening as the specs of dust rose from the old firearms and swayed around with the wind. There was an open doorway to a room standing right where it had been a few seconds ago, a seemingly never ending blackness inside.

"This isn't the part where you show me a secret torture dungeon that's been lying under our house all these years or a red room of pain, is it?"

He was about to step into the dark space when he turned around, his brows meeting as he frowned. "Why would I show you my red room if I had one?"

"You're right." I rubbed the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry. Jared talked me into watching Fifty Shades of Grey like three weeks ago and I'm still a bit freaked out about it."

"I am starting to understand why he is still single." Dad shook his head, turning around and disappearing into the old room like it was a black hole. I heard a couple of things moving around and a loud clatter of metal before the light of a fluorescent lamp lit the entire space up. "Come on in," he said. "I want you to see this."

Careful not to drop Mom's canvas as I ducked under it, I stepped into the small room. It smelled musty, like mold and mildew mixed with the scent of leather and metal. There was a fine layer of sawdust covering the tile flooring and the dark wood sideboards that outlined each bricked wall. Over them, there were wooden book holders that kept several books stacked in a straight line, every single one reading different things on their spines. It went all the way from "History of the Forgotten" to "Understanding the Human Behavior" to "The Guardian's Handbook."

I skimmed through them, raising my eyes a bit higher to find more metal racks like the one outside attached to the walls. They held all sorts of weapons: knives, crossbows, guns, swords... "A flamethrower?" I stepped closer to one of the racks, pressing my fingers against the glass boxes that encased each of them.

"Always thought that was cool, too," he said, his quiet steps coming up behind me. "You will rarely see a Keeper using any of these, though. They were more popular back in the day, but not as effective. All we truly need is a—"

"Reaver Blade?"

Dad nodded, a subtle frown on his face as he moved toward the left sideboard, where he opened the top drawer. There was a velvet cushion fit into it and ten Reaver Blades neatly placed in their respective places. Each one had a different size, but they all had the same shape, inscriptions, and sharp, glinting edges. He took of the medium sized ones—an exact replica of the one lying somewhere in the floor of my room. His hand went around the grip perfectly, and I could see the familiarity of the muscles in his arms reacting to the weight of the blade. He kept it close to him, as if he were afraid to separate himself from it.

"It's a Keeper's most valuable possession," he said, his eyes following the blade as he swayed it around gently.

"How does it work?" I asked, my skin tingling with the memory of its feeling on my hand. I had already experienced its doing first-handedly, but I wanted the full version of the story.

"It's simple: if a Keeper is the one holding the blade, it will act as a portal when used on a Forgotten. It will send them into the Veil realm immediately." I remembered the heat pouring out of the Shifter's body and shivered. "In the wrong hands, however, it can be used to store their souls and charge the blade with dark energy, one that's powerful enough to cause massive destruction."

"I heard they can also work as providers of visions," I said, grazing my fingers over the metal grip of a smaller blade. Its hilt glimmered slightly, and it almost seemed to vibrate under my touch. I yanked my hand back, feeling the pulsing travel up my veins.

"They do, yes. They have been known to guide Keepers whenever they stray from their paths," Dad said, and I was thankful he hadn't noticed the Reaver Blade's glint. "They're supposed to help you find the answers you need." 

"Certainly doesn't feel like it," I muttered.

"What?" he asked, putting the blade back on its case and closing the drawer. I shook my head, and he ran a hand through his fine hair.

"What even is this place, Dad?"

He smiled faintly. "I needed to keep all these things safe. Had a hunch I might need them again someday. They were my father's, and my grandmother's once."

"Your grandmother? As in great-grandma Teri? She was a Keeper?" My eyes widened, at which he gave out a throaty chortle.

"That old lady kicked ass as hard as she could." It seemed reasonable enough. I'd heard stories about her before, but I never imagined she could commit actual violent acts other than hitting the kids on her neighborhood with her shoes every time they touched her collection of flowerpots. Much like Mrs. Norton, I thought of her as an old-fashioned lady, not as someone who would go around sending supernatural creatures into another dimension.

For a moment the image of Mrs. Norton killing a Shapeshifter flooded my mind, and I frowned.

"Can I ask you something?" Dad asked.

I looked back at him, my index finger tracing patterns on the dusted surface. "Fire away."

"Are they trying to break the Veil again?"

I didn't answer.

"Are they, Liv?"

The mere simplicity of his question sent ice through my veins, and I felt my throat tightening. "Yes, they are."

He sighed. "Will you tell me what's going on? What's really going on. I can help you, but I need you to let me in."

I groaned, walking toward the other sideboard and looking through the boxes filled with vials and small pocketknives. "It's complicated, Dad."

Even with my back to him, I could feel one of his eyebrows raising. "Try me."

I knocked the heel of my hand against my forehead a couple of times and worried on my lip, trying to think about my options. There were no other options. Unfortunately, whether I liked it or not, my father was right. He could most likely help me.

Fuck it. "It all started with Sally, when she got attacked at the parking lot...."

Images flashed through my head as I told him about the occurrences of the past two weeks. I decided to leave out some details that could set him off, though, details I knew were as fragile as a thin sheet of fresh ice. What had happened at the hospital—the hospital, in general—and in the subway afterwards, or what happened to Jared...he would go crazy instead of understanding if he found out about those particular events.

So I ended up summarizing everything neatly into a much simpler story, one that gave me peace by not having to lie blatantly at his face but at the same time kept him safe from knowing a little bit too much.

I had to lie to the one person I loved the most, but her life was worth more than those lies. His life right now was worth more than anything else.

"Wilson is a Dragon?" Dad asked, staring wide-eyed at me.

"I had a hard time imagining that, too."

"I should've known kids don't normally go around playing with matches so much..." He shook his head. "And I should've known you would find your way into this world without even knowing. It's in your blood; you're drawn to it."

"Yeah well, I now feel like everyone I see will rip their shirts off and turn into an animal or grow wings or something. Not nearly as comforting as one would expect the truth to be."

"And this guy, Hunter...he—"

"He's the one who's been helping me, Dad. He isn't like the other Infernos. In fact, there are more like him." Caiden's face flashed like a beacon in my head, and I knew that as crooked as he was, there was still something good hiding inside of him. He wasn't nearly as bad as Roy.

"I don't like it, Liv," he admitted, leaning against the brick wall next to the doorway. "I don't want you trusting these people. His friends, that warlock. It's not a good idea."

"And whom should I trust then? If I want to stop Roy—"

"But you won't," he snapped. "You won't stop anybody. I won't let you go on a suicide mission, Olivia. You're eighteen. The world doesn't depend on you."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Didn't grandpa ever tell you that?"

He looked sideways at the dusted walls. "It's different."

"Why? Because you're a guy?"

"Because I knew what I was doing," he retorted, eyes snapping back on my direction. "I was aware of the dangers around me. You're not."

"And whose fault is that?"

He let out an exasperated sigh, and thunder rattled the sky outside. "I wanted to protect you, for God's sake! I wanted to keep you as far as I could from this fucked up world, give you the chance to live a normal life. Which is why I won't let you waltz into danger like it's no big deal."

"If they break the Veil, we're all going to die. I have to stop him."

"No, you don't." Dad stepped forward, lips parted as if he were struggling to find words. He clenched his jaw, and I noticed the veins in his arms were bulging when he pushed the sleeves of his sweater up. "This isn't your battle to fight."

"Keepers seem to have that thought pinned on their heads lately, you know," I said, feeling a wave of heat moving into my face. "Don't you think that that's exactly the reason why the world is as screwed up as it is right now? Because none of them are doing their job?"

"Haven't you been listening to me? If we were out there, we would give them exactly what they want: an easy access to the key that will open a gateway to Hell itself."

The rain battered louder against the roof, matching the anger that started to boil inside of me. "And standing aside is better? You'd rather watch people die?"

"Olivia—"

"What about David Harris, huh? He was your friend's son."

He flinched. "Don't go there."

"Why? Is your conscience nagging you?" I said quietly. "He wanted to keep his son safe, Dad, just like you want to keep me safe. It's what every parent wants, but he didn't even know what was out there. He couldn't protect David from something he wasn't aware of. You do, though. Keepers do. It's hypocritical to bear the name of a guardian to your own favor while everyone else suffers the consequences."

He looked like I'd slapped him right on the face, and neither of us said anything for a full minute. Lightning was still crackling the sky outside, and I could hear the rumble of thunder spreading through the air like an earthquake. I'd never spoken to him like that before—I'd never spoke to anyone like that, which is why I wasn't shocked to find him staring dumbfounded at me.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice brittle.

"The truth happened, Dad."

Before he could say anything else, the doorbell echoed through the walls. He looked back and sighed. "That's probably the pizza delivery guy."

"Great, enjoy your dinner." I didn't wait for him to move, stepping past him instead.

The wind was cold, tiny rain drops splashing on my feet as I treaded back inside. I heard metal groaning and then Dad's footsteps following me as the doorbell rang one more time. "What—you won't eat?"

I stopped on the first step, my hand gripping the banister tightly. Like I was secretly hoping to pass the rage inside of me into the wood. "I lost my appetite."

He winced, muttering something under his breath I didn't quite catch. Nor did I have the intention to. Instead, I breezed up the stairs, through the hallway, and into my room. Everything seemed soundless in there except for the rain drops rapping on the window ledge and the sudden gasp that was torn out of my throat when I saw the figure sitting on my bed.

It was hard to make out the details at first, but once he angled his face to look at me, I was able to recognize him. Normally I would've been happy to see his face—deep down, I knew there was always a feeling of comfort when he was around—but something didn't feel quite right at the moment.

"What are you doing here, Hunter?"

He had his head propped in one of his hands, his elbow against his knee, and he was staring at me almost pensively. "I wanted to see you," was all he said.

My heart did a nervous flip. "And you thought sitting on my bed inside my room with the lights off was a good idea?"

Something switched inside of him then, and his eyes shone the same bright blue they did whenever we were together. He left his spot on the bed and walked up to me until his boots were inches away from my toes, his breath fanning my skin as he leaned toward me. "It would've been better had I found some candles."

"Candles?" It felt like my heart was smashing itself against my chest, and I inched backwards. "I don't understand what—"

But my thought lingered in the air, unsaid and unfinished as he took one sizable step closer and put his mouth to mine. His stance changed radically, subtly altered, morphed into a harder and hungrier version. His arms were snaking around my waist, his fingers moving up the hem of my tank top.

It took a whole lot of willpower to press my hands against his stomach and push some space between us. It felt useless, however, since my hands only hurt from the effort. "Hunter." I pulled back, panting, wincing when the doorknob dug into the bruised side of my ribs. "What's going on?"

"I just want a moment with you. I want to forget about everything else."

He went in for another kiss, but I ducked away. "My dad. He's right downstairs."

"Then I better be extra quiet," he said, locking my mouth with his before I could retort. Many thoughts ran through my head, but none of them was strong enough to stay. They faded into a dark corner of my mind, where they smothered into nothingness.

I should've been listening to the rational side of my brain, the one that was waving red flags at me, but no matter how hard I tried to will myself into doing it, I couldn't. My mind wouldn't stop reeling, swirling in a fog of toxic desire that came from the taste of his lips against mine.

His lips... There was something wrong with them; they felt—

The thought was yanked away from me. His arms lifted me with an unusual lack of grace. Then the doorknob was gone from my back, replaced by the soft mattress molding under my weight instead. He pressed his body over mine, and my stomach took a steep dive when I felt his lips straying from my mouth all the way to my neck.

I sucked in some air when he bit down lightly over one of the bruises, feeling him chortling against my throat. Not a friendly chortle, though. It almost seemed...mocking. "Hunter," I tried, barely getting my voice over a whisper. "Stop."

Nothing.

He didn't move, his lips edging down to my collar bone and then back up to my mouth. I tried to push him off, tried to move away, but his arms were working as a cage, his legs straddling either side of me. It was hard to breathe under his weight, and I felt the walls shifting around us, coming closer and making the room feel smaller.

Hunter wouldn't do this....

And of course he wouldn't. I forced my thoughts back into the conscious side of my mind, going through them one by one. All of them led to the same conclusion. This wasn't him. This wasn't Hunter.

When I finally looked back up, I saw it: deep in his eyes, the darker shade of blue Sally was so afraid of.

My self-preserving instincts kicked in then. I let the rush of adrenaline take over and didn't think twice before biting down on his lip until I tasted the salty flavor of blood filling my mouth. He pushed back with a hissed curse, and only then was I able to see it: the light, shimmering glow covering his skin.

My heart plummeted, my head swimming in a wave of dizziness when I attempted to peal through the layers of glamour. It was harder than I thought, though, and the only thing I got out of him was another silent laugh. With a swift motion, he swayed his hand over his face, Hunter's face drifting away like smoke only to leave behind the one face that was able to freeze my blood cold.

"My, my," he said. "I must admit I understand why Hunter's got quite an interest in you. Killer lips."

My stomach contracted. I tasted bile in the back of my throat. Its burning-acid taste sent a jolt of awareness through me, and I pushed myself backwards, squirming away from him. I reached an arm over to the foot of the bed where I could see the leather bag's strap peeking out. Before I managed to get it, however, the sound of metal sliding made me stop on my tracks.

"Looking for this?" Roy was sneering when I looked back at him, clutching the blade carefully in his hand with what looked like a handkerchief. Why would he do that unless....

"You can't touch it either," I said. My eyes sought for the skin of his palm, which was now red with fading burn marks.

He seemed amused, putting the Reaver Blade back into his belt. "Someone's been doing her homework," he said quietly. "Smart girl. You keep surprising me every time."

"What do you want?"

"The same thing I wanted since day one: for you to admit you know who I am and what you are." He licked his lip, blood staining the tip of his tongue. "It's really pointless since we both know the answer, but just humor me."

"Go to Hell."

"Been there. It ain't as cozy as it was before."

"Why don't you do it?" I asked, noticing how he inched forward—like a lion stalking a fresh slice of meat. "Take my damn heart and be done with it. Kill me if that's what you want. I don't get why you're so pathetic and crawl into my dreams or stalk me while you hide under someone else's face. Just do it already."

"See? That fire of yours—I like it. Which is why I have an offer for you."

I found myself backing up slowly. "I don't want anything from you."

"Oh, is that so?" He raised his eyebrows, took one step closer. "But what if I could save your little boyfriend's life with it? Just a simple bargain that could free Hunter and the little gang from, let's say, the wrath of death."

A shiver crawled through my spine, and I felt the edge of the bed coming up behind me. "What could you possibly do to—"

"Join me."

"What?"

He shrugged. "You heard me. I want you to join me, Olivia. You don't have to die. Not anymore."

"So now you don't want to kill me?" My voice rose an octave, and I forced it back to a whisper when the sound of plates moving came from downstairs, remembering Dad was still there.

The corner of Roy's mouth quirked up. He was taking slow, measured steps around the corner of the bed, closing in on me. "What? Is it so hard to believe?"

"Yesterday you seemed adamant to do it, so forgive me if I'm having a hard time believing you."

He let out a small laugh. "Things can change fast. All I need is your essence. It's kept in your heart, which is why the ritual requires it, but I found another way."

"Why would you do what?"

"Because I can take it, use it, and then give it back to you. You would still be a Keeper and—"

"You would shatter the Veil and bring every dark soul back into Earth. Yeah, no thanks."

"Listen to me," he growled, cutting the distance between us significantly. I forced my legs off the bed and stepped back. "This will happen whether you want it or not. The Veil will break. It's time for things to change. It was never fair to live under the shadow of humans, to hide because they were the poor souls who couldn't defend themselves." Danielle's voice rang in my head. We kill in order to get the things we need the most. It's basic Darwinism. Survival of the fittest. "You can join me and learn what you're really capable of. And in return, I could ask the Infernal Council to spare Hunter's life."

"I won't help you kill people...."

"And you'd rather watch Hunter die instead?" he asked. "They will torture him...rip his soul apart piece by piece if it's what it takes to punish him."

"Punish him? For wanting what's right?"

Something flickered inside his eyes, and had I known him any better, I would've guessed it was resentment. In a fraction of second, I found him standing in front of me, his weight pushing me against the wall. "For being broken."

My heart hammered inside my chest. "Well the answer is no. I won't join your stupid, evil club."

"Just think about it, sweet cheeks," he breathed, leaning forward. I jerked away, feeling his nearing lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "Meet me at St. Boniface church on Sunday at sunset. If you get there willingly, I promise no harm will come to those you love."

"And if I don't?" I asked, already knowing what the answer was.

"That's easy," he said, risking a quick glance at the door. "I'll come and get you myself. And I won't walk out that door until I have your dripping heart in my hand. I'll start with yours and then your daddy's, saving that sweet little baby for dessert."

"Go fuck yourself, Roy."

"I would if I could," he said, the sneer on his lips growing. "But sadly there's no time for that. At least you helped me out with this." He patted the back of his belt where the Reaver Blade was tucked in place, its grip calling my fingertips with small jolts of energy. "Let's just say it would've been harder for me if you hadn't actually used it on the guys I sent you. It was kind of a longshot, but I'm happy to see the Keeper in you is alive and kicking."

Realization hit me like a truck, knocking the air out of my lungs.

"You wanted me to kill them," I whispered. "You did that on purpose."

His hands let go of mine then, leaving my body against the wall as he stepped back. "Isn't it fun? How I'm always one little step ahead of you?"

I tried to move, but my feet were stuck to the floor. I had to push the words out, feeling their weight burn in my mouth. "Did you kill him? Did you kill the Harris boy, too?"

Lightning cracked the sky then, and I was able to see his eyes starting to glow, his smile widening. "I'll see you on Sunday, Olivia."

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into a light swirl of dust in front of my eyes. There were no traces of him left, nothing that would indicate he was even there in the first place.

I found it hard to breathe; the room suddenly felt too small and quiet. I could only hear the loud roaring of rain against the window ledge and the pulsing, unsteady beats coming from my heart.

Deep down in the back of my mind I knew I should have gone downstairs, tell Dad what happened, but something else overpowered the sense of fear inside of me. It didn't take me three full minutes to change clothes, and I found myself walking back the way I came from earlier.

With the same silent steps, I rounded the stairs. Dad was now in the living room, switching through the TV channels with an untouched pizza in front of him, and I felt a twinge of pain in my chest.

I wanted to keep him safe. If he'd chosen a way out of this world, I wouldn't drag him back in, not when it meant Roy would be able to get his hands on him. Not when it meant he could get hurt.

And I knew exactly what I had to do to keep that from happening.

Closing the front door behind me with a quiet click, I pushed the hood of my jacket over my head and walked off into the street.

It would be a long night.