Page 54 of Soothsayer

When we arrived in Chicago, landing at a private airport instead of one of the big ones, it was after midnight, and I was exhausted. I accepted Annie and Roger’s offer of a safe place to spend the night in the back room of their office here in Chicago, which as places that were well-protected went was about as good as it got. Security cameras watched all angles of approach, and each of the employees—and how they were so goddamn perkyafter midnight I had no idea—were all armed to the teeth. When I saw the cot in the back, which looked way nicer than any “cot” I’d ever slept on before, I could have cried with relief. I still had a few things to do, though, so I left Sören chatting with Annie, who’d mastered small talk like no one I’d ever met before, and pulled Roger aside.

“This is the last favor, I swear,” I said quietly. Roger just chuckled.

“Hell, Cillian, you’re keeping my Annie busy, and that’s plenty worth a favor or two. She hates downtime. What do you need?”

“I need something to wear tomorrow. Something better than this.” I didn’t have time to run to the suit shop, and they wouldn’t have exactly what I was looking for anyway.

“Yeah? What exactly?”

I told him. I specified color, lengths, durability, everything I could think of. Roger just nodded, his expression never more than calm. This was a man who knew how to roll with the weird. I had to give him that. If I survived this, I was going to owe him and Annie so, so much.

“I can handle that,” he said once I finished. “You sure you don’t want one of these too?” He held something out, and I stared at it for a second and then started to laugh.

“Oh man, that’s perfect. Hell yeah, I want one of those.”

“Thought so.” Roger patted my shoulder. “Go get some sleep, Cillian. Everything else’ll keep until morning.”

“Sure.” I undressed and lay down in the dark, but I just couldn’t fall asleep. Somewhere out there, Andre was in the hands of Ólafur Egilsson, probably being interrogated about what he knew, how he knew it, and who I was to him. That was on me. Somewhere out there, Marisol had been driven out of her home, her shop, her entire life because she’d been a friend and mother to me when I’d had almost nothing. Somewhere out there?and I had to believe this?my mother was on therun, forced out of the home she’d made for herself, the first place she’d felt safe in maybe her entire life, all so that she wasn’t turned into leverage against me while I did something objectively insane.

Sören entered the room and lay down behind me, tucking his body in close to mine, knees to knees, chest to back. He wound his arm over my waist, and I let him snuggle us tighter together. He felt cold, but maybe I was getting used to that now, because it didn’t bother me the way it had at first.

His lips touched the back of my neck, and I felt myself crack inside, just a little. Everything I had done, I’d done for him. Was it worth it? Ithadto be worth it?it had to be worth what was going to happen next.

“Promise me you will not risk yourself needlessly,” Sören said. His voice was like the murmur of wind over water, stirring ripples that danced across the surface of a calm, quiet pool. “You are not expendable. Without you, there is no bargain.”

“I know how it works.”

“That is not a promise.”

“That’s all I can give you.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then the chill changed. Sören gasped and started to shake, and I rolled over instantly. “Sören?”

“Cillian…” It washim; the difference was immediately apparent. I gathered him into my arms and drew him close, but things were different this time around. He got warm faster, his shivers subsiding to occasional tremors after only a minute or so, and when he finally pulled back, there was more sanity than before in his bright blue eyes, and more fear. “Oh god, what are you doing?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Whatplan?”

“Sören, it won’t work if I tell you.” I actually had no idea if it was going to work regardless, but I couldn’t share it with Sören, not in either form. It would just make both of them worry. There was one thing I needed to know?one piece of the puzzle I wasn’t sure of yet. “I do have to ask you something, though. Will you be my second?”

Sören shook his head. “I can’t be your second. I’m theprizehere.”

“No, you’re not. The vættir is, but you aren’t.”

“Cillian, we’re the same.”

“That’s not true.” I made Sören meet my eyes. “I know it’s not true. You might live in the same body, but fundamentally you’re two different people. Otherwise, how could you be a sacrifice to him?” I sighed. “I’m not asking because I expect you to sit down with your father and negotiate on my behalf or anything. I just?it seems like something I need, and you’re the only one I trust enough to ask. So please, trust me now. Be my second.”

“Nothing good happens when you ask me to take things on faith.” Sören stared at me, eyes wet, his fingers digging too hard into my back. I loved it, every bit of it. I felt like I could breathe again, like my heart was really beating for the first time since I’d seen him last.

I was growing fond of the landvættir. I could admit that to myself, but everything I was doing, every stupid chance I was taking and problem I was causing for the people who loved me, I did for Sören.

“Fine, I’m your second, whatever, but Cillian, fuck, please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

“I love you.” That was the more important sentiment here, I thought. “Just…keep that in mind, okay? You’re not making me do anything. I’m doing it all because I love you.”

He smiled a little. “Asshole, that’s my line.”

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