Page 8 of Obsession

“You doubt me?” says Jaegen, bright eyes narrowing. “You should not. Aris would bend only to you.”

Aris, bending?

I don’t agree, but one can’t disagree with a god. So, I sigh. “How would I even do it?” I ask. “How would I… kill him?”

“Let me worry about that,” says Jaegen, placing his big, meaty hands behind his back. His stance is like a commander observing his troops. “What do you think? Will you agree?”

Again, I hesitate—for a different reason this time. I’ve just gotten free of Aris, and now I’m about to attach myself to another entity. It feels… wrong. And too easy?

Once more, I’m reminded of the adage of something being too good to be true. I was just fooled by Aris. What if this is another ploy? Jaegen is openly offering me what I want, and I don’t know if I can trust that. Is this like dealing with a genie or elf, where one word omitted or added to a sentence changes everything? There are hundreds of stories of bargains made with creatures; most, if not all, don’t end well for the human. The moral is always: Do not be arrogant. Understand that there are things in the world more powerful than you. They will put you in your place if you think to play on their level.

I remind myself that I was going to seek Jaegen out, probably to propose a similar arrangement, but this still feels off. Too abrupt. I was going to seek him out, yes, but eventually. I was expecting to spend weeks pouring over sigils. My heart beats out of rhythm, too quick, too hard, at the thought of doing this now.

And the way he started the conversation doesn’t sit right with me. He came in here talking about debt, about consequences, how I owe him.

Further, his proposition is incredibly open-ended. Jaegen wants to “dispose” of Aris, but he hasn’t told me how to do it yet. Besides the gut-clenching revelation that I’ll have to return to Aris’ side, he’s offered nothing else. Committing to a dangerous plan before it’s fully formed feels beyond premature.

I glance at Jaegen, feeling the increasing temperature of the room, and doubt that he’d approve of my asking for five to ten business days to consider this. I wonder if I can even say no. If I refuse, would he let me go, or is my cooperation merely a formality?

A tired breath escapes me. My back hurts from sleeping on the armchair, I’m hungry and heartbroken, and my hair reeks of cheap dye.

“Fine,” I just say. Something churns in my gut, and I immediately want to stuff the word back in my mouth, but it’s out there now; I’ve agreed.

Again, I tell myself: this is what I want. What I need. Aris destroyed everything, and Jaegen is the only one who can fight him. Aris must pay, and this is how. I can’t squander this chance.

“I’ll try my best,” I say, to set some limitation. “But I need magic—at least to shield my thoughts from him.”

Jaegen’s eyes narrow. “You want more?”

“Yes.”

As the word registers, somehow echoing in the room, his shoulders roll back, and he straightens. I hadn’t been aware that he was slouching, but he gains a few inches from the movement. His shadow is longer now, and my heart starts to pang against my ribs.

The way he’s staring is how a driver curls his lips when running over roadkill.

My knees shake, brow wrinkling as I try to determine how this request is a problem. He is an all-powerful being, and Aris is weak only against magic. I need something to stop Aris from realizing our scheme so it can, you know, work. What I’m proposing isn’t ridiculous.

And yet, his face is dark.

After a long moment, his left eye twitches and he dips his head perhaps a centimeter. “I will give you a rune,” he tells me. To say that his tone is reluctant would be putting it mildly. “I suppose it is necessary.”

I say nothing, watching him as he looks around, as if just now registering our surroundings. His brow furrows in understandable distaste—surely, Jaegen is used to luxury beyond that of a supermarket break room.

“You can’t sleep here,” he says. “Let me bring you somewhere nice. Warm.”

Before I can say anything, the room shifts: the fridge turns into an oak wardrobe, the cabinets into a large, set bed. Hard linoleum becomes soft carpet, employee of the month portraits now paintings of fruits and flowers. The ceiling is high, tall enough that Jaegen can comfortably stand to his full height, with a twinkling crystal chandelier so large that it comes down to his shoulders. There’s a fireplace and a gilded bed frame to complete the look of a room I could never afford to stay on my own.

I do a full and obvious once-over, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Thank you,” I say warily. A gift is never freely given.

Jaegen frowns. “An act of good faith. We are partners now.”

I don’t know what to say to that. “Where are we?” I just ask.

“This is London, one of the human cities Aris tormented on his arrival. One he will likely destroy again. I thought you might like to see it."

I doubt that he brought me for tourism, and Jaegen angles his head in acquiescence. I sigh. “If you’re trying to turn me against him, you don’t need to; I already agreed to help.”

I walk to the window, pushing thick, velvet curtains aside. Maybe naïvely, I expect to see a city burned and destroyed, but there’s just a regular skyline. I try to make out any landmarks I might know: Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, combing the streets for red phone booths and signs for the Tube, but there’s nothing. I could very well be in Denver, for all I know.

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