Page 215 of Flirting with Darkness

“Will I stay awake and out of your dreams if I’m in here?”

The box’s lid lifted, tilting up and down as if in a nod.

I huffed a sigh. No supernatural sleep; I just had to fight my own body’s tiredness. My head was heavy, my heart too, and my limbs ached. But I found an old boot scraper in the corner and positioned myself with it poking into my back. There, so uncomfortable it would be impossible to fall asleep.

No more of House’s dreams. Even the good ones. And no more Faolán. Even the good I thought I’d seen in him.

I shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes, blocking any more tears. They were treacherous bastards. Faolán didn’t deserve them.

“Oh, House, why did you show me all that?” I sighed at the box. “The woman with her balls and rituals and failed servants…”

The box slid away, its lid rattling softly as it shook.

“Andnothim turning into a monster? What good was all that when you didn’t show me the truth?”

The box fell still, and I thought maybe I’d upset House and sent it away, but then it slid close and brushed against my leg.

“You let me think he was good. You let me think he was… noble, even.” I scoffed at myself, but I couldn’t keep from stroking a hand over the box’s lid, like it was a cat who’d just rubbed against my leg. “You let me think he would never hurt me.”

Except… was it House that made me think those things?

Or was it that Faolán had sworn to protect me and never hurt me? He’d been true to both those promises up until tonight’s attack.

He could’ve killed me a hundred times over the past month since grabbing me in that maze of rock. Hells, he could’ve cracked my neck the first instant we met, just as he had that werewolf’s. Even tonight, he hadn’t managed to hurt me—not physically at least. That might’ve been down to my speed, but he was faster than me and better trained—maybe it was the magic of his vow at work.

Besides, hadn’t he told me to keep up my guard? Hadn’t he tried to stand between me and Granny when she’d first appeared? Over an entire month, I’d convinced myself he wasn’t a monster: had that really changed in a few minutes?

And last night—this morning, rather, I reminded myself, stifling a yawn—this morning as he’d sat on the floor, he’d looked so hurt… sobroken. The man who was always so solid, so sure, with that hard look of certainty—he’d crumbled as I’d walked away.

Monsters didn’t fall apart. They raved and ranted and broke the world. They didn’t let it break them.

Perhaps hewasawful and evil and everything I’d run away from. But what if he wasn’t?

I didn’t owe it to him to find out which of those was true, but I damn well owed it to myself.

He owed me an explanation.

I had iron, and House had tried to protect me when it had thought Faolán was hurting me. I wasn’t entirely alone, though my stomach balled tight.

“You’ll help me, won’t you?” I patted the box, which capered around like an excited puppy.

What an odd entity House was. Even with the horrific things it showed me, I would miss how kind and thoughtful it could be, and the way its eagerness to please made me laugh. I suspected it couldn’t help its dreams, or at least not all of them.

With a sigh, I unfolded myself from the floor. My heart tolled like the clock in the hall as I pushed open the door of my hiding place.

Seven chimes. Almost an hour to sunrise.

The hall was empty, just the vines in the carpet, the looming shadows, and the bone clock. Except the vines were twisting and pulsing, growing and writhing, all moving in the same direction down the corridor.

“House? Are you leading me—?”

A shriek pierced the night.

My hand twitched, bringing the blade up in a defensive stance, just like Faolán had shown me. “Granny?” Rather than tolling, now my heart sped, afraid but ready.

“Rose?” It was her voice, coming from the same direction the vines were leading me to. “Help!”

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