Page 60 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

The idea of dying together shouldn’t be romantic. But…he’s right. It’srightfor us to be together, forever and always.

“Do you think we can fight your father?” I ask. “Together?”

“I think we can do anything together,” Dorian says. “Believe it, and I’ll make it so.”

From anyone else, that would be a hollow promise. But from Dorian, I know it’s true. Dorian is my imaginary friend. He’s been shaped—and limited—by my beliefs all of this time. But now I understand the power of our bond. The power inside ofme. And I refuse to bottle it up and pretend it doesn’t exist ever again.

I press up on my tiptoes and carefully lift Dorian’s mask just enough kiss him. When I pull back, I whisper, “I believe you can do anything.”

I catch a glimpse of a smile—his real smile—before the mask slots back into place, hiding him behind that ferocious forever-grin. “Then what will you have me do?”

“Get that thing out of Ezra and send him back to hell where he belongs.” I squeeze his hands. “Withouthurting Ezra. Please. He’s my friend.”

Dorian hesitates. But when he sees the plea in my expression, he inclines his long body in a deep bow. “As you say, darling.”

Together, we go to face my demon.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It’s easy to find Ezra. All we have to do is follow the trail of bodies.

Security guards lie in contorted positions in the hallways of the MRF, limbs bent in impossible positions, spines and necks broken, eyes frozen wide open.

One of them is still alive—barely. He’s clawing at his own face, whimpering, leaving bloody rivets in his own skin. I crouch down beside him, touching a finger to his forehead.

“Sleep,” I whisper, and he goes limp.

I sigh, straightening. Thank God only the skeleton night shift crew was here, or the damage could’ve been much worse. Still, it is terrible. And a terrifying amount of power.

Dorian is a comforting presence beside me, his gloved fingers brushing against mine as we walk. With each touch, power zaps through my body. With my memories back and him at my side, I’m at my full potential…but will it be enough?

I have no idea what Godric is capable of with Ezra’s body. And if I win by locking the demon away in my mind like last time, I will lose Dorian all over again. I won’t do that.

One way or another, Dorian and I will end this together, as it always should’ve been.

I feel Ezra’s presence before I see him. Power radiates off him, an invisible miasma that leaves my skin prickling with unease. All of my senses scream to run, but I refuse.Not this time. I force myself to keep moving, even though terror thickens the air. It crawls over me like the legs of a thousand bugs scritch-scratching at my skin. I taste copper on the back of my tongue and hear the drum of my heartbeat in my ears.

Then I round the corner and he’s there.

Ezra stands with his head tilted at an odd angle, his fingers rigid and contorted at his sides. He is covered in blood from head to toe, and when he turns at the sound of our footsteps, his eyes are black. He grins, and it’s horrible, lips stretching until it looks painful, every tooth on display. There’s blood on them, too.

“Daisy,” he says, and it’s not Ezra’s voice at all. It’s Godric, and it makes every hair on my body stand at attention. The red emergency lights buzz, brighter and then dimmer. “Look at you, little rabbit. No longer on the run.” He shakes his head from side to side in jerky, violent motions that I fear will snap Ezra’s neck. “But don’t you know? Running is the only way that prey survives.”

I remember seeing my mother bleeding on the floor. Hearing an axe burying itself in my father’s skull. A dozen times hiding under my bed with my hands clasped over my mouth and tears streaming down my face.Don’t look at him, don’t even think about him. I’m breaking all of the rules that kept me safe for so long. But I’d rather die fighting than live in fear for a day longer.

And I am not alone. Dorian’s presence reminds me of that. He steps up beside me, one hand resting on my lower back. We face Godric together, neither of us hiding. We’re strongest together. Always have been.

Godric laughs, the shoulders of Ezra’s body twitching like an unhinged marionette. He points one finger at me.

I try to speak but choke on nothing. Try to lift a foot, but it refuses to obey. I’m frozen in place, able only to move my eyes, which flick frantically.

Ezra lifts two fingers and slowly aims them toward Dorian.

“Bang,” he says.

Blood erupts from Dorian’s chest.

He presses a gloved hand to the wound, and his fingers come away coated in red—but before I can scream, the blood turns to roses, a bouquet held out in his hand. He tosses the handful of flowers at Ezra, and it bursts into flame.

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