Page 68 of Night of Death and Flowers

“Both,” I explain. “Their forms are malleable.”

She lifts her chin. “So the people I killed tonight are still here.”

“Yes,’’ I state, and we continue walking. “I can feel every soul within my domain.”

Her breath hitches. “Fantastic.”

“They likely won’t hurt you,” I assure her, and her gaze snaps to mine.

“That’s not what concerns me.”

“You feel guilty,” I note. “Don’t. Regret is pointless. You can’t change the past.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” she asks. “To justify everything you’ve done.”

I shrug. “I don’t have to justify anything. That’s a mortal’s burden.”

She rolls her eyes and matches my pace. “If people find out how awful you are, they won’t worship you.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Mortals are just as bad..”

“You were supposed to be above sin.”

I chuckle darkly. “Is that the fairytale you were taught? Where did you think sin came from?”

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.”

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