Her gaze drifts to meet mine and I hesitate when I notice tears glossing over them. “Then what’s the point of being a good person?”
“Society could not exist without the concept,” I say, and glance sideways at Calista, her body slathered with sprays of dried blood. Her hair catches in a gust of wind, and hues of golden brown woven with deep chestnut strands shine under the red moon. My shadows uncurl around my bones, desperate to touch her again.
“Why are you looking at me?” she asks.
“I’m not.”
“Sure,” she says, her magic calming with each beat of our conversation. “I mean, I understand. You’ve not been able to touch anyone alive before. At least not without them immediately dying.”
My lips part, but I bite back my words. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? When she calls out my vulnerabilities so brashly and uses them against me.
I place several more inches between us, and she smirks in victory. My fingers curl into fists, the magic vibrating into my palm.
Calista heaves out a breath, carefully treading over the root-stricken ground, unaware of the bones buried underneath the thin layer of dirt. “How many people are left?”
“Eight, including your sister and the traitor.”
Calista brushes away a fallen leaf, then glances sideways at me. “You didn’t count me?”
“I already told you. You were not chosen, even if you forcibly entered the island,” I spit, anger guiding my tone.
“You gave me the idea.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes, I watched you kill that girl,” I say, wiping the snarky smile from her lips. “It was a beautiful display, although the townspeople didn’t think so. They were shouting words such as ‘monster’ and ‘evil’.”
“Maybe I am,” she challenges me, and I almost smile. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save Ari and Drake.”
“You care not for your soul?” I counter, my vision carving out the darkness, until I see the entrance of the abandoned building.
“No,” she whispers. “I know I’m already destined for the Darklands. At least then I’ll be able to repay you for all your so-called mercies.”
“I rule the Darklands,” I hiss as Drake’s form comes into view, his head in his palms. “My Phovi will drag you the seventh cave before you have time to find me.”
“We’ll see,” she snaps, defiance crossing her perfect blue stare, and magic sparks to life inside of me. I must admit to myself that there is likely no other adversary than her who could destroy me.
Just her being alive angers me. I can only imagine what it would feel like to have her hunting me, desperate to annihilate me, having her always near me, on the edge of the darkness.
A shadow uncurls from my fingers, then glides around her throat. “Just remember who you’re talking to. I may not be able to kill you, but do not forget I can hurt those you love.”
She halts, then spins to face me. “You need me.”
“For now.”
We hold our breath in unison, rage swallowing my air until I tear my eyes from her. Finally, she looks at the house and steps away from me.
“Drake,” she whispers as we exit through the tree line.
He stands, his glare latching onto mine the second he spots us, his muscles tense. Tattoos swirl against his olive-skin, and I grin as I watch a depiction unfold of him, tearing out my heart. I would love nothing more than to see him try.
Calista walks to him, then hesitantly brings her hand to his. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere since you ran off.”
I glower when her fingers make contact with his skin, then move up beside her. “I ran into someone.”
Drake tilts his head, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“It’s complicated, but we need his help,” she says, her breaths uneven. As if I’d ever aid the boy or the sister. I am only here to stop her from getting killed, possibly bringing the prophecy to fruition, and finding the person who stole the bodies of my siblings.
Drake brushes the witch aside, and her eyes widen.
Then he turns his attention to me, his posture shaping defensively. “We don’t need you here.”
“Careful with your words,” I warn.
“Don’t,” Calista tells him.
He turns to face her, and after a moment of looking into her eyes, he sighs. “I don’t want him near you.”
“I don’t either,” she admits, as if I’m not even standing here.
I focus on Calista as she watches untie his cloak, then throws it over his shoulder.
“We have killed people because of this tournament,” he states. “His tournament.” He pauses, then points at me.
Calista touches his arms, redirecting his attention back to her, and his shoulders relax. I could so easily kill him, and my fingers flex at the thought.
“I know,” she says, her voice charged with a panicked, desperate hope. “But we can end this now.”
I focus on the boy, anger roiling in my bones. “You dare talk down to me,” I spit and close the few feet between us. He gulps under my shadow as I glare down at him. “I am your god.”
