Page 54 of Run Like the Devil

“Why would they wander off?”

“Maybe they saw a butterfly.”

Gorrin rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “They aren’t you. They wouldn’t do something so foolish.”

I thought back to the time we’d been scheduled for a meeting, so long ago that Hale and Tyrus had yet to become Demon Lords. I’d missed it because a green butterfly had fluttered past me, and I’d been unable to resist chasing it.

“How often do you see green butterflies?”

“That doesn’t explain how you ended up in the bounce house of an eight-year-old’s birthday party.”

“No one else showed up. It would have been rude to not stay.” I looked over at Gorrin with a smirk. “And as I recall, you had a piece of cake as well when you found me.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head.

Which pricked at my nerves. I recalled Loch’s harsh tone from before, when she’d snapped at me, wanting me to be quiet.

People had done that for a long time with me, so much so that I thought myself past caring. I wasn’t human. I had no reason to feel hurt or bothered when they pointed that out, when they made it clear I did not fit in.

It was like a dog getting upset when others pointed out he wasn’t a bird.

So why was it that the behavior I had grown so used to suddenly bothered me?

I couldn’t answer, which darkened my mood all the more.

Still, no matter my unresolved feelings, when Gorrin and I had realized that we no longer saw any signs of Loch, Hale and Tyrus, that took priority. Even if I couldn’t quite place my feelings, that didn’t mean I could ignore a missing Loch.

I doubted I could ever wash my hands of her. That bond between us was far too strong to break over something so trivial.

Is there anything more than that bond, though?

I thought back to how she’d looked at me when she saw what I really was, when she’d glimpsed the world I’d come from. She’d said she didn’t care, that whatever I had been, whatever I was, didn’t change the way she felt about me, but people lied.

She believed her words, but people lied to themselves more than to anyone else.

People told themselves whatever made them feel secure in the world and in themselves. They told themselves they were good people even when their actions said the opposite. They told themselves that they could succeed, even when history and reality said differently.

And Loch told herself she could accept me because she wanted it to be true.

Belief did not change reality, and I had lived long enough to know I’d fit in nowhere. I had barely fit in to my own world, so what hope did I have in those that came afterward?

“You’re quieter than usual,” Gorrin said.

“Elephants are the only mammal on Earth that can’t jump.” At Gorrin’s confused look, I went on. “I thought we were offering random facts.”

“You are impossible. People make statements as a way to bring up a topic.”

“Then you should have just said so instead of making vague statements.”

“Fine. If you want me to be direct, I’ll oblige you. Why are you acting strangely? I have never seen you pout. Normally, if you’re angry—which is rare—it ends with blood, so seeing you behave like this is disconcerting. Beings with the power you hold shouldn’t behave like sullen, angsty teenagers.”

Ouch. Still, I couldn’t deny his words. I was behaving differently than usual, and I couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Perhaps it was like I’d told Loch in the past, that a person could be too close to a situation to see it clearly, to gain a full understanding of the picture.

Did that mean Gorrin might be able to discern the reason for my unease?

I didn’t enjoy the idea of exposing my shortcomings or weaknesses, yet perhaps it was like a wound. A terrible slice to one’s back needed treatment, and it was not an injury a person could treat alone. There was a risk to allowing another access, but it was, sometimes, a necessary risk.

Was this the same? A necessary risk?

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