Page 41 of Consume Me
His thumb sweeps over my knuckles, and I’m about to say something else when I hear it.
A fainttap.
We both turn toward the sound. It came from the hallway, near the old curio cabinet where my mother used to keep her favorite teacups.
I try to tell myself it’s nothing—just the house settling—but my pulse is already picking up speed.
“Stay here,” Noctan says, his voice dropping into that low, lethal register that makes my stomach flip for entirely conflicting reasons.
“Not a chance,” I whisper back, and together, we move toward the sound. I let go of his hand, taking a fighting stance.
Another tap. Louder this time. Followed by a faint hiss in the back of my mind.
The dagger.
My breath catches. It shouldn’t be here—I left it at home.
Noctan’s hand tightens around mine, and the whispers cut off again, but the pressure in the air doesn’t ease. Something is here. Something dark and morealivethan the dagger usually feels.
My visions prickle at the edges of my mind. I shove them away. Now’s not the time to check out of reality.
As we reach the end of the hallway, I see the curio cabinet door swinging open on its own.
I freeze on the threshold.
It’s here.
The dagger.
Not in its holster, not in my apartment, but balanced upright on the middle shelf, its tip pressed into the wood as if nailed there by invisible hands. The air around it vibrates, thick and metallic, tasting like blood in the back of my throat.
Smoke wafts from the hilt.
Reminding me of earlier when it nose-dived into Natalia’s grimoire.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no?—”
Noctan is already stepping in front of me, his body a solid wall between me and the blade. “You said you left it at home.”
“I did.” My voice comes out high, thin. “It doesn’t matter where I leave it. If it wants to find me, it will.”
His jaw flexes. “Then we find a way to make it?—”
The dagger speaks in my mind, louder than it’s been in days.Last chance to kill him. Fulfill the bargain.
“I told you,” I snap, voice shaking. “I will never kill for you again.”
There’s a pause—a moment where I think maybe the silence means I’ve won.
Then the voice returns, darker now, curling into my mind like gnarled fingers.So be it.I’m done asking.
The shelf shudders.
“What are you doing?” I ask aloud.
Why wait for someone else to do your bidding,the voice hisses,when you can do it yourself?
A low vibration rolls through the room, rattling every picture frame, every fragile dish. Noctan steps forward to shield me, but my eyes stay locked on the weapon.
