Page 31 of Soothsayer

“We’re the same person now.”

I dropped my duffel at the foot of the bed—the double bed, goddammit—no twins here. “Not to me.”

“You aren’t attracted to this body anymore?”

“Not when Sören isn’t in it.” I felt filthy, covered with the remnants of too many cold sweats and a gritty layer of dirt. Every muscle ached, despite Sören’s little burst of healing magic after the whole tying me to a tree thing. If I didn’t clean up soon, I wouldn’t be able to, I’d just collapse onto the bed and sleep for way too long. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be back out in a fewminutes.” I grabbed sweatpants and a T-shirt and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I didn’t bother to lock it. That wouldn’t help anything.

The water was lukewarm at best, and the little bar of soap had obviously been used before and stuck back inside the wrapper, but I didn’t care. I scrubbed every inch of myself, rubbing hard at where the bullet wound used to be, just to see if I could still feel something of it, anything.

In less than a day, my entire life had been turned upside down. I was a contestant in a game I was in no way sure I could win. I had, at best, half a plan that relied on people doing stuff I didn’t know how to compel them to do yet. And I was traveling with the body of a man I loved and the soul of a spirit sociopath. Life didn’t just suck, it was ready to grind me down into the cracks on the sidewalk and leave me there to rot.

I cupped my flaccid penis, thinking about Sören for a moment. There was nothing, not even a stir of interest. Too tired. Too sad. Too wrong. I stayed in the shower until the water went cold, putting off my exit as long as I could. When it was no longer possible to delay, I dressed and went back out into the room, expecting another discussion, maybe a fight, about why I wasn’t going to give in to Sören’s very poor seductions.

Instead, I found him lying on his back on the bed, so still at first I thought the landvættir might have left the body. But no, his lips were moving, although no sound emerged. I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched, warily, until Sören’s eyes opened and he looked at me.

“I’m singing him a lullaby,” he explained in a soft voice. “He sleeps, for the most part. It’s easier on him, even though the water is soft. He dislikes the cold of it, so I don’t wake him to experience it unless I must. But some things can seep through, and singing is one of them.”

I turned out the lamp and then stretched out on the bed next to him, keeping a little distance between us. “What’s the lullaby?”

“It’s calledMóðir mín í kví, kví. It’s about a mother who couldn’t take care of her child, so she left him outside to die. Later, the child comes back to haunt her and offers her the rags he died in to clothe herself.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It’s traditional. Are the lullabies you’re familiar with any better?” Sören gently prodded. “When the bough breaks, the baby will fall…That’s a song about a child perishing, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure.” Maybe it was, I’d never really thought about it. “What else can seep through?”

“Only the things I choose to let in. Comforts. Sounds that he enjoys. The warmth of another body. He misses it greatly.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Which is very peculiar, but I suppose I can’t force such a thing,” Sören said. I felt suddenly, drastically relieved. “A reluctant gift is worse than no gift at all. But if you lie with me here, he’ll feel your presence. If you wrap me in your arms, he’ll feel your embrace. This is no trick,” he added. “When we’re quiescent, the bond is stronger. You will comfort him as much as me.”

The idea of anything I did really being a comfort to the landvættir sat a little odd with me, but I could at least do this for Sören. “Roll over on your side,” I said, and he obeyed. I scooted closer, clenched my jaw for a moment as I wrapped my head around what I was going to do, and then moved in to spoon Sören from shoulder to calf. His body was cold to touch, but I rested my head against the back of his neck and put my arm over his waist because if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

I held him close, and a moment later, Sören’s hand found mine. He laced our fingers together, and I let him, becausethe move was familiar, something he’d done with me before everything had become so terrible.

We lay silent for a few minutes, and my fatigue started to get the better of me. I was almost asleep when he said, “I didn’t think that using your magic like that would displease you so. You’ve done far worse.”

It was an apology and a rebuke all in one, because the thing I’d done that was worse lay in my arms right now. I’d consigned Sören to this fate. It didn’t matter how hard I’d regretted it later, I’d still done it. I’d messed with fate for selfish reasons, and this was the result. It was my fault, my responsibility, and I had to make it right.

“I’m trying to change,” I said at last. “I’m trying to be better.”

“Humans like Sören are rare. The vast majority are motivated by their own betterment, not the betterment of their fellows. You’ve already proven to be the first type. Why fight against your nature?”

I didn’t want to think about it. I was tired of talking. “Go to sleep,” I mumbled against the nape of his neck. “Just go to sleep.”

Sören didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

Chapter Seventeen

When I woke up, Sören was gone. My first instinct was to run out and check the parking lot, because if he’d abandoned me after the fiasco that was last night, I didn’t know what I’d do. Die, probably, after a lot of melodramatic running and screaming. Nothing about that thought appealed, so I closed my eyes again, took a deep breath, and ran my hand over the other half of the bed. Still noticeably cool. Okay, that was good. He hadn’t been gone long.

I opened my eyes and sat up, carefully not letting myself freak out yet. I checked for the car keys—there they were, right where I’d left them on my duffel bag. I couldn’t hear the shower going and the bathroom door was open, but if he’d gone out, he probably hadn’t gone far. Maybe he was hungry. Shit, now that I thought about it,Iwas hungry. The last time I’d eaten anything was…yesterday, late morning. Lunch with Andre. It felt like a hundred years ago already.

I eased myself to my feet, expecting to feel more fragile than I did. Last night had been—I didn’t really know what to think about it. It had been intense. Painful. Sad. Mostly sad, and if I thought about it too much, I’d just end up feeling guilty, and not only over Sören. I knew exactly what Officer Henley was doing right now, and it wasn’t pleasant. I did feel a bit better after ostensibly giving Sören some comfort, but any pleasantness was fleeting. Andthathad to change.

Fuck this. Fuck being down and out; fuck the nerves; fuck theworry. I was a goddamn seer. I was the son of a woman who had manipulated an entire government into freeing her. I was primed tosucceed. I needed to leave behind my doubts and jump into this feet-first, or I would lose.

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