Page 57 of Expensive

“Yes.” The word comes out softer than I mean it to. Even though I know I have to do this, it’s still hard to say goodbye to my dragon.

She flicks the lighter on. “Then let’s do this.” She begins to hum the same song Howard did during the last sacrifice.

Howard grabs my arm. “Andrew, think about this. I know you’re scared right now, but is there no other way to get what you want?”

I shake my head. If I want to keep my family safe, I have to get rid of my bond ache. Kim may not be a good person, but she knows how to remove it. This is the only option I have left.

Howard releases my arm. “Fine. But I’m staying to watch.”

Kim rolls her eyes. “Do whatever you want. But if you’re going to play babysitter, be quiet. No one gets what they want if this spell is botched.”

She begins to hum again. This time I hum with her. My voice is shaky at first, but I get the hang of it. Then I hold out the drawing of my beautiful library, with its ladders and its shelves of priceless books. After Edward died, I got rid of half of his collection and started curating my own. Building that library is the only meaningful thing I’ve done in the last five years, until I met Timber. When the paper catches fire, I’m transported there, just like I was transported to watch the destruction of Frankie.

I look on helplessly as a flame licks along the bottom of the first shelf of my poetry collection. I reach out, unsure if I can do this. Those are priceless anthologies by Lord Byron, Percy Shelly, and John Donne. They shouldn’t be mine to sacrifice. How will I be able to live with myself after this?

I put a hand on my belly, the way Timber did earlier today. Soon I could have a child of my own. I could be happy. What are books worth compared to that?

The smell of burning paper has never been so devastating. The fire catches on a row of journals by Charles Dickens. There isn’t anything else like them in the world. A graduate student from Columbia was coming to study them this summer.

All I can do is watch as the fire grows—as it eats through my safe corner of the world that I thought was so beautiful, I was willing to bond to a seventy-year-old man to call it my own. Dimly, I’m aware that the fire is raging through the roof of the library and spreading to the rest of the house, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Like my grandfather used to say, fire is messy.

This fire is destroying something far more precious than the house—my connection to my dragon. I feel it snap and I cry out. We aren’t meant to be separated. He is a part of me, and I am a part of him. I did this to feel whole—to gain power over my own life. But I realize the moment that connection breaks I will never be whole again.

I lost that chance the moment I was magically tied to Edward Monroe.

When I fall, I don’t know where I am. Not at The Flickering Candle. Not in the burning ruins of my books. Not in the arms of the man I loved enough to give away a part of myself that I never should have traded, not for anything.

I always knew I wasn’t sane. I just didn’t understand where the edge of my insanity was. Now that I’ve jumped off that edge, I finally know.

And it’s too late to turn back.

27

Timber

“I’ve never been here before. I don’t know where anything is,” Anne says.

We’ve been traipsing across this godforsaken island for at least thirty minutes now. Andrew clearly already found the evil woman who can perform his spell, and here I am, stuck in my human form, unable to sniff him out. If I could shift into my wolf, I’d have found him ages ago.

There’s a flash of light to our right. I run through a crevice of the large boulders surrounding us and scale the slick black rock, ignoring the way my heart hammers as I get high enough that I probably won’t survive the fall without a few broken bones. There’s no more time for hesitation. No time for safety. When I get to the top of the rock, I finally see Andrew. He’s standing before a woman in a suit. Then he collapses onto the ground.

I sit down on my ass and slide my way down the rocks. I get plenty of cuts and scrapes, but that doesn’t matter. I have to get to him.

As I run toward my boy the woman pushes her chest forward and starts singing. The song is as powerful as her laughter, and there’s an edge to it that feels just as sinister.

Andrew convulses on the ground. Her song is affecting him somehow. I sprint toward them. If I can stop her, then maybe I can reverse what she’s doing to him. But something rams into me, knocking me to the ground.

It’s a man. He pins me down. “You can’t interrupt. You’ll botch the spell.”

“But Andrew—”

“He just paid for this spell with his hoard. We can’t interrupt.”

My baby boy gave up his hoard? His wings?

If I was never in his life, this wouldn’t have happened. This is my fault. I should have told him no when he said he wanted to be with me. This has gone way too far.

---