Page 11 of What Is Dark Within Me

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“Have you come to talk business?”

She glanced toward the kitchen light. Garm’s smacking jowls were still audible. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Three members of my family are dead because of you.”

“No, Aleja. They’re gone because of your great-great-grandfather and his brothers. I merely accepted the terms of the deal,” he answered.

The music reached a crescendo, and Aleja thought she recognized it after all. Her focus at the university may have been painting, but it was impossible to look at the art of Vienna without a backdrop of Mozart.

Hellfire, she couldfeelhis presence washing over her like a wave trying to knock her off balance. It was as if the shadows of the cellar held their own weight—and it was crushing. She swallowed. “What would you ask of me if I wanted to know where Violet was?”

Nicolas turned, his eyes reflecting the kitchen light before dimming to a bright gray. His expression was too complicated for her to make sense of, but Otherlanders did not think or feel like humans. “I can’t tell you where she is because I don’t know. I can merely give you the power to find her yourself. What you do with that power is up to you.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What would you ask of me?”

“Make an offer. If I find it interesting enough, I’ll accept.”

In truth, Aleja had little left anymore. The Otherlanders only wanted things that could not easily be replaced. They wanted things the person offering didn’t truly want to give. Unlike her ancestors, her remaining family was off the table.

She sloughed the satchel from her shoulders and set it by her feet. This did little to ease the heaviness inside her. What would you give to have Violet back? she asked herself again. What would you give to save her like she saved you?

“What would you—” she began, but Nicolas interrupted.

“I cannot answer that. Make me an offer and I will give you what you need to find your friend. Power.”

“Power?”

“Yes. True magic in your veins. The magic of the Otherlanders. A far cry from the trifling witchcraft you wield now. Once you figure out how to use it, none will stand in your way.”

Aleja opened her mouth, closed it again, and looked back to the kitchen where she could hear Garm licking the charcuterie board clean. Her satchel was full of exactly what she’d hoped to find in Agnes Flanders’s home, but it was evidence Violet had been here, and not much else.

“Alejandra?” he asked.

“I… what if I offered you myself?”

“Yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How do you mean?”

“Aren’t hellhounds trapped spirits? I could offer you a year of servitude once I find Violet and she is safely returned home. Violet has only been gone half that long. It seems like a fair price to me.”

“I don’t accept.”

“What thefuck?” Aleja snapped. “I don’t have money or a career or a hundred children to let you pick and choose from. There’s nothing except for me.”

Garm barked. Aleja hadn’t grown up with dogs, but she’d spent enough time babysitting Paola’s two spoiled corgis to know that meant company was near.

“You’re right,” Nicolas said. “You have nothing now, but you might have something I’ll want in the future. Try again.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. My useless art history degree? My student loans? The heart of my non-existent lover?”

The Knowing One raised an eyebrow and for a moment, Aleja believed he was about to shut down this offer as well, but something unreadable passed across his face. Until now, his expression was something Aleja interpreted as smugness with a hint of cruelty. But she couldn’t explain his brief frown, especially not after he made eye contact, and his face became infuriatingly pompous again.

“I accept.”

“Oh, fuck right off—wait. You accept?”

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