normal. They would make sense of it. They would take control and stop it from ever happening again. “An Abyssal is big, metaphorically speaking. It’s a lot to take in. It’s not unusual to have troubles after it’s over. You know how some people go through a trauma, and they suffer PTSD after? It’s like that. Sometimes it takes the mind awhile to condition itself. To put what happened into a context that makes sense.”
“But this is normal,” I pressed. “I’m not going crazy?”
“Of course you aren’t crazy,” Illana spat. “Don’t be absurd. Do you know how many people have knowingly met an Abyssal Prince and lived to speak about it?” She held out a hand, took away two of the fingers. “Three that we know about, including yourself. It is rare for one of them to escape, despite their numbers. Rarer still for them to appear to humans.”
Despite their numbers. “Seven,” I mumbled.
Illana stared at me. “What was that, child?”
“Seven,” I repeated. “There are only seven. That’s what he said. That his people had only failed to pay the tithe seven times. He was the second taken. Second of seven.”
A look passed between the three of them, one I didn’t know how to interpret. Justin was better at that than I was. Somewhere along the way my hands had stilled—whether from the coffee, the alcohol, the sandwich, or the calm itself. The way they were all so quiet in between words, giving me moments and time to collect myself. My thoughts started to come together, organized and filed away in ways that made sense. Illana was right. It only took time.
I took a deep breath. The first time I’d felt like myself since walking away from the auditorium. “Can you stop him? Kill him?”
Illana inclined an eyebrow, her eyes careful as they regarded me. I wished I knew what she was thinking. “Perhaps,” she said, making the word sound like a finality. “They are elusive creatures, the Abyssals. No doubt this one has found somewhere to hide, to disappear in plain sight.”
There was a discomfort in the room that I didn’t pick up on first. But Quinn scowled and Nick squirmed in his chair, and then I knew. “You still want me to be bait.”
“What I want, ” she stressed, “is that you understand your place. For you to want to help.”
If you help, a traitorous voice inside me whispered, you’ll get to see him again. As bad as it had been, there was something about the Prince that confused me. They called him a monster, he called himself a monster, but he seemed so sad. Lost.
They all stared at me and waited for my response. Illana had a way of using her stillness as a weapon to club and batter until she got the answer she wanted. It was there, tucked between the clasp of her hands, there in the sharpshooter-
narrowed focus of the eyes. In the way she was simultaneously leaning forward and yet completely at ease in her chair. It was like she wasn’t waiting for my response at all. I was the one waiting on her reaction to whatever it was I would say next.
“I won’t,” I said finally, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. “I don’t want any part of it.” The lie burned a blistering score through me, but I grabbed hold of the goal, which was exactly the opposite of what she was asking. A normal life. Not a life filled with spells and Princes. “I did my part. I told you what’s going on. Now I want you to leave me and the others out of it. Last time this happened, we almost died.”
“The Abyssal came to you. We did not set any of this into motion.” Illana lifted her hands, steepled the finger like a gun, and watched me closely. “But ask yourself, who will bear the responsibility this time if you walk away now? If someone dies, and you do nothing, how responsible are you?”
The woman was unbelievable. This was not my life. This was not my world. “Go to hell,” I spat. I needed air. I needed to be anywhere but here.
“You don’t see it?” Jenna’s voice
“But this is normal,” I pressed. “I’m not going crazy?”
“Of course you aren’t crazy,” Illana spat. “Don’t be absurd. Do you know how many people have knowingly met an Abyssal Prince and lived to speak about it?” She held out a hand, took away two of the fingers. “Three that we know about, including yourself. It is rare for one of them to escape, despite their numbers. Rarer still for them to appear to humans.”
Despite their numbers. “Seven,” I mumbled.
Illana stared at me. “What was that, child?”
“Seven,” I repeated. “There are only seven. That’s what he said. That his people had only failed to pay the tithe seven times. He was the second taken. Second of seven.”
A look passed between the three of them, one I didn’t know how to interpret. Justin was better at that than I was. Somewhere along the way my hands had stilled—whether from the coffee, the alcohol, the sandwich, or the calm itself. The way they were all so quiet in between words, giving me moments and time to collect myself. My thoughts started to come together, organized and filed away in ways that made sense. Illana was right. It only took time.
I took a deep breath. The first time I’d felt like myself since walking away from the auditorium. “Can you stop him? Kill him?”
Illana inclined an eyebrow, her eyes careful as they regarded me. I wished I knew what she was thinking. “Perhaps,” she said, making the word sound like a finality. “They are elusive creatures, the Abyssals. No doubt this one has found somewhere to hide, to disappear in plain sight.”
There was a discomfort in the room that I didn’t pick up on first. But Quinn scowled and Nick squirmed in his chair, and then I knew. “You still want me to be bait.”
“What I want, ” she stressed, “is that you understand your place. For you to want to help.”
If you help, a traitorous voice inside me whispered, you’ll get to see him again. As bad as it had been, there was something about the Prince that confused me. They called him a monster, he called himself a monster, but he seemed so sad. Lost.
They all stared at me and waited for my response. Illana had a way of using her stillness as a weapon to club and batter until she got the answer she wanted. It was there, tucked between the clasp of her hands, there in the sharpshooter-
narrowed focus of the eyes. In the way she was simultaneously leaning forward and yet completely at ease in her chair. It was like she wasn’t waiting for my response at all. I was the one waiting on her reaction to whatever it was I would say next.
“I won’t,” I said finally, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. “I don’t want any part of it.” The lie burned a blistering score through me, but I grabbed hold of the goal, which was exactly the opposite of what she was asking. A normal life. Not a life filled with spells and Princes. “I did my part. I told you what’s going on. Now I want you to leave me and the others out of it. Last time this happened, we almost died.”
“The Abyssal came to you. We did not set any of this into motion.” Illana lifted her hands, steepled the finger like a gun, and watched me closely. “But ask yourself, who will bear the responsibility this time if you walk away now? If someone dies, and you do nothing, how responsible are you?”
The woman was unbelievable. This was not my life. This was not my world. “Go to hell,” I spat. I needed air. I needed to be anywhere but here.
“You don’t see it?” Jenna’s voice
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