Page 58 of What Is Dark Within Me

She’d killed him.

He might have killed you if you hadn’t, said her voice, but she ignored it.

This investigation had a body count of two now, and unlike Thierry Laurent, the doctor hadn’t foolishly rushed to his own demise. Aleja had murdered him.

The podcasters were going to have a field day with this, she thought, having to muffle a laugh into her sleeve. She’d read about this phenomenon in her late-night deep dives into the true crime forums. Her brain hadn’t caught up to the horror of what she’d done yet. She was delirious.

The police were going to be on their way at any moment. She was going to be arrested, and poor Paola was going to spend the rest of her life thinking she’d been right every time she expressed concern about what Aleja had been downloading off the dark corners of the internet.

Nicolas opened the door and she fell against his legs, still not entirely in control of her body. “I told you not to look,” he said. His voice was gentle, something which made the moment seem more surreal as he crouched down and ran his index finger along her cheek. Aleja thought he might be wiping away her tears until he pulled away and she saw the blood smeared across his fingertip.

Blood that wasn’t hers.

“What were you…” she began.

“Taking care of things. No one will know what happened here. Come. We should go.”

Aleja knew there was a reason she ought to argue, but her brain hadn’t quite caught up. “We need to search—Violet,” she managed, because when her thoughts weren’t occupied by Nicolas, they only had room for one other person.

“I took what I could from the room and fire will engulf the rest soon. You’re still weak. Take my arm.”

He hauled her upright. Nicolas took in a sharp breath. She felt it in her own body, but she was too exhausted and afraid to pull away.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s my fault alone. Your power isn’t yet under your control. I shouldn’t have brought us here.”

“I killed him.”

“He deserved it.”

She could have sworn she felt the ghost of his hand against her hair, but it was gone so quickly. Aleja let him lead her through the smoke-filled house. This time, she barely took in the hall of mirrors and the foyer, where discordant violin music still crackled through a record player. It was empty now, except for Louisa’s shoes beside the smoldering fireplace. Aleja glimpsed her reflection in the gleam of a polished vase and saw her face splattered with blood, her dress shining like fire; at that moment, it was easy to believe she’d once been one of the Dark Saints. Our Lady of Wrath. The most feared of Otherlanders, aside from the Knowing One.

The driveway was empty aside from her car and a shining black Mercedes that probably belonged to James. She hadn’t even learned his last name.

“Where are we going?” she asked, when Nicolas steered her to the left, away from the driveway and toward the high hedge that hid what must have been the night garden.

“We’ve got to fetch Garm and someone else who might help us.”

Aleja didn’t have it in her to argue anymore. Her mouth tasted of stomach acid. She was expecting to hear the blare of sirens rushing up the hill now that all the home’s windows were filled with orange light.

The hedge opened to a small clearing, lined by wooden trellises upon which dense layers of night-blooming jasmine grew. Their scent was heavy, covering up the smoke, and so intense it made her feel as though she had stumbled from one dream into another.

She heard Garm’s heavy pants paired with a soft gasp. The dog had his head atop the lap of a woman seated on a marble bench. Her manicured nails froze behind Garm’s ears as she noticed Aleja and Nicolas stumbling their way into the garden like two drunken revelers trying to find a place to make out in private.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was still here,” Louisa said. Mascara was smeared across her face as if she’d wiped it from beneath her eyes without caring where it ended up. A bit of it stained her upper lip, a tad darker than the flush of wine from the empty glass at her side. “Are you James’s friends? I didn’t see you at the party. I’ll go if you want some privacy.”

Aleja was about to speak, but Garm beat her to it. His tail slapped against the marble bench in a way that must have been uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Can’t we take her with us, boss? She’s anicelady. She brought me a whole tray of chicken wings.”

“Oh!” Louisa said. The hand that had rested on Garm’s head flew to her mouth, bringing with it a bit of black fur that stuck to her lip gloss. “Youarea hellhound, aren’t you? So that must be—”

She trailed off, looking at Nicolas and the bloody human clinging to his side.

“Where’s James? Is that smoke?” Louisa asked. She didn’t seem afraid of the Knowing One, but maybe that was to be expected. If the conversation they’d overheard upstairs was any indicator, Louisa was already dying.

“I’m afraid he’s no longer available to take you to the well,” Nicolas said.

Louisa’s face fell. The bit of mascara on her upper lip ran down the side of her mouth. She really was beautiful, Aleja thought, despite the smeared makeup around her large, doe-like eyes.

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