Where Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton Page B

into flames. Where is Revenge? Why isn’t he the one beside me, urging me to choose?
    Inside, Jennifer whirls, probably hearing the door. Her flowered skirt twists around her thighs. Foster brushes past her and enters the kitchen, heading straight for a cupboard next to the fridge. Jennifer makes a sharp gesture, Frustration and Worry hovering around her. Foster responds by pulling out a bottle, brown liquid sloshing within the glass. He walks past her again. Jennifer is still trying to get a response from him—she’s one of those people who talks with her hands. I don’t like that I know this small detail about a Foster.
    Forgiveness inclines his head, shifting slightly. The leather seat creaks and mint drifts over me. “May I offer you some advice?” he asks. When I don’t respond he continues anyway. “You can’t trust my kind. We’re volatile … and we’re not human. We don’t have the same laws or instincts you do.” His voice is always serious, but there’s an extra gravity to the statement.
    Not human . As if I didn’t already know that. A bitter smile curves my lips. “And what are those laws and instincts?” Finally I look at him.
    â€œTo protect the ones we love.” His gaze is unwavering. “Our ideas of right and wrong are too different.”
    My jaw clenches, and somehow it becomes a battle of wills. Whoever looks away first is weakest. What Forgiveness doesn’t know is that I adore-hate his eyes. They’re so sad they make me remember what I’ve lost, but they’re so bottomless I could fall forever. I lied; being around Forgiveness is thrilling, too, no matter how much I want to deny it.
    â€œYou’re talking about Revenge,” I comment, hoping my face doesn’t betray my thoughts. Picturing him, I put my finger on the trigger. My best friend wouldn’t tell me what to do, of course, or let me touch him—that would be interfering—but just the proximity to him would be enough. Just enough. I’d have the strength to walk up to that door and finish it. Why doesn’t he come?
    â€œYou don’t have to do this.” Forgiveness’s voice is gentle, just like everything else about him.
    â€œYes, I do,” I hiss. It’s unfair, how my stomach flutters when he moves his hand closer to mine. He really is a beautiful creature, no matter how much I want to deny it. Too bad he’s such an ugly concept. “I didn’t summon you. You don’t belong here.”
    Forgiveness doesn’t relent. “Part of you wants me here.” He leans toward me, as if to prove this point. His eyelashes, long and dark, brush against the tips of his cheekbones when he slowly blinks. As usual, he’s wearing that white T-shirt. It’s an obvious effort to seem human, to appear touchable and pure. And even the knowledge that he’s anything but doesn’t make resisting him easy. I know that if I choose him … the shifting tectonic plates within me might finally go still.
    I can’t let that happen.
    So I turn away again, gritting my teeth, and resume glaring at the bright window. Forgiveness doesn’t sigh or try to pull me back. He just eases into his seat again and watches me while I watch them.
    â€œDo you want to know what Nate is doing right now?” he asks after another pause. I don’t respond. He tells me anyway. “He’s in his study, drinking a glass of brandy. He’s tired. His wife yelled at him for being so late and not calling. The real reason she’s angry, though, is because she’s scared she’s lost the man she knew. The man she loved.”
    â€œShut up,” I spit. “Just shut up.” My finger curls around the trigger even more, and I’m shaking.
    â€œBut she’ll forgive him. She always does. I usually feel her summons sometime in the middle of the night, when she’s cold and