Page 63 of Hunt Me

My question successfully derails her, but it also sends the mood spiraling.

Kendall sets her fork down and picks up her juice but doesn’t drink it. My chest squeezes as the silence stretches.

“Juniper would have loved this place,” she says at last.

When she looks up at me, her eyes are shining with tears, but she’s smiling.

I smile back. “She would,” I agree. “All the stone and natural elements are exactly her style.”

“Last night, I could have sworn I felt her with me,” she admits.

My smile fades, my mouth tightening with grief. “I’m sure you did. Her body might be gone, but her spirit isn’t.”

She nods then takes a sip of juice. “What do you think Mom and Dad would say if they could see us now? In Tartarus of all places.”

She’s changing the subject, but I let her. Besides, her question isn’t rhetorical. Kendall was so young when they died. I know it’s harder for her to remember them, so she relies on my stories.

Putting aside the heaviness from before, I smirk. “Mom would have Legion eating out of her hand.”

Kendall grins. “And Dad?”

“Dad…” I shake my head.

“What?”

I meet her curious gaze, a new plan forming as I imagine exactly what my father, a dark fae poisoner, would do. “Dad would be getting prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“To go back and finish this.”

“Tor,” Kendall starts.

“Look, they’re not going to stop unless I stop them. And I refuse to hide forever. I will not live the rest of my life in exile.”

Kendall grimaces, but she doesn’t argue. “What kind of preparation do you have in mind?”

“I need supplies. My kind of supplies.”

“You want poisons.”

I nod. “You said there’s a village nearby. We could go see if they’re having the farmers market.”

“Poisonous plants aren’t exactly your typical farmers market offering.”

“Not in plain sight,” I say with a shrug. “You just have to know who to ask.”

“And you know who to ask,” she says wryly.

“Not yet. That’s why I’m bringing a fortune teller.”

She snickers. “Well played.”

“C’mon,” I say, “Maybe they have donuts.”

Ten minutes later, Kendall and I are both at least a pound of pancakes heavier and headed out through the terrace gardens. My hands and face are covered, protecting Kendall and anyone else from my skin. Overhead, the double moons offer more than enough light to navigate, casting the flowering hedges in a happy glow.

“Are you sure this is the best way out?” Kendall asks.

---