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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

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Crow returned ten minutes after storming out with a six pack under one arm. He sat down on his bed and pulled a beer from the pack and tossed it to me and I stared at him, lips parted in my own shock.

"You risked your life outside for this?" I murmured, opening the can without even thinking and taking a long, bitter sip. It warmed me instantly, not even noticing how I was shivering moments before.

"I needed something with a little edge if I'm going to be spending the night with you telling me about all my greatest hits," responded Crow with a scowl, opening his own beer.

His face was slick with rain and his hair and shirt were yet again drenched but he didn't seem bothered by it. Maybe the cold didn't even bother him, since he was a demon. I hated him, though. I hated the way he was seemingly unfazed by my harsh words, I wanted more out of him. I hate him for the way he looked and I hated him for how smoothly he spoke, the way it was still mesmerizing in person as it always was over the phone.

I hated that I knew what he was, that he was no longer the man on the phone I found such odd comfort in.

I watched him sit back against the headboard, engrossed in what the weather woman was now telling us. It didn't look like the storm was going to let up anytime soon, so I tipped the beer back and drank as much as I could before putting it aside and crawling underneath the disgusting blankets and prayed there were no bed bugs here.

The sheets were scratchy and rough, but warm all the same. I burrow in them, keeping my bag and my jacket on the bed with me as a comfortable weight by my side. The pillows are surprisingly soft and thankfully clean, and my wounded head that has been giving off an incredible dull ache for most of the night sings with joy when I lay down.

I had almost forgotten about my wound after my shower, too involved in Crow and the bag of chips he'd gotten me. Now though, with the soft sound of the television and the roar of rain outside, it was the only thing I could focus on now.

It throbbed with the pulse of my steady heart, now laced with warmth from the alcohol. It wasn't enough to get me drunk or even tipsy, but it made me warm and that was all that mattered with the creeping cold.

The television flickered and I knew we would lose power sometime soon and I wished I had brought a phone charger with me to school but I didn't anticipate being stranded. I definitely didn't anticipate being buried alive either.

The smell of cigarettes began to waft through the room and I sat up a little, peering over my pillows and towards the other bed. It was funny to see Crow with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. I couldn't stop the laugh even if I tried as it bubbled free and I buried my face into the pillow with a wild grin.

"What's so funny?" he grunted and I looked up again and held out my hand. He reluctantly leaned over and passed me the cigarette. I took a slow inhale once it was between my lips and that burn soothed me instantly, the ache in my head passed aside for the calm the smoke gave me.

I sucked in again as I passed it back, feeling the strain in my lungs before releasing into the air. I always loved the look of smoke leaving someone's lips and it only drove my addiction more. As much as I had wanted to quit, the stress and sudden emotional toll the events of the past few months have had on me forced me to pick up my deadly habit again.

"Is this even a smoking room?" I asked, pushing a pillow up behind me back as I sat up fully.

"Have you seen the place?" he murmured, licking him lips. "I don't think they'd mind."

I only nodded back, folding my legs under me to keep my toes warm. Lightning flashed behind the window and it's broken blinds, lighting the sky up. I counted to myself, waiting for the thunder as I knew it would come soon. One, two, three...

Thunder boomed outside and the windows rattled, like the whole earth was shaking with the sound. I curled up even farther into the bed, pulling the blankets around me. I looked at Crow and envied how calm he was, the neutral expression on his face.

"How'd you know I was missing?" I asked once the television screen switched to an annoying commercial. "You called me and instantly asked where I was, why?"

"One of my men, he, uh," he cleared his throat, "found your truck in a junkyard on Route 80."

Hearing about my truck was demoralizing and I was tempted to start crying at my loss. I bit my lip instead, looking at my hands in my lap.

"Busted windshield but nothing my guy can't fix," he said with a shrug and I looked up, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I said I'll get it fixed," he said, nonchalantly.

"Why?" I blurted.

He shrugged, shoving the dead cigarette into his empty can.

I pushed on, changing the subject to a more dangerous one. "Why come to my rescue? Why not just kill me?"

He didn't answer and he didn't look up from the can. He sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, legs crossed at the ankles. He didn't look phased, not even bothered but why?

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" I whispered, moving my hand slowly to my jacket. Just in case, I told myself.

"You're more valuable alive," Crow finally responded, looking up and meeting my eager eyes. He held my gaze and I could've sworn a part of me melted, just for a second, at the sight of him regarding me. He was so handsome it hurt, it felt like my chest was filling with water every time I looked at him and when he looked back like that.

Like he would devour me.

I cleared my throat and finally let my eyes leave his as lightning flashed and thunder clapped, nearly in sync. The television flickered off with a pop and even our heater turned off with an awful slow buzz, and it took no time at all for the cold to slip its way back inside.

The rain sounded feral and the wind never let up on its droning howl. I prayed we didn't get anything worse than the power turning off, that we'd be okay for the rest of the night.

"If I'm more valuable alive..." I murmured, looking up to meet his eyes slowly. "When are you going to tell your men to stop coming after me?"

"It's funny," he said, his gaze burning. "I did, but you've seen what they did in retaliation."

"Tobias came at me with a gun."

"I know, Macabre told me."

"Who else is coming after me?"

Crow opened another beer and I watched him, through the darkness, as he took a long sip. "Jonathan Blood ran off to join whatever crusade Conner has gotten himself into, which means he'll come after you at some point-"

"Wait," I said, holding up a hand as my brows furrowed. Conner? Wasn't Conner still in Ace's body? "How could Blood join him if...if Conner is still with--"

"Conner found himself a new host," Crow said slowly, even his brows pulling together. "The news has been buzzing through our community, I thought you would've known by now."

If Conner found himself a new host, then where was Ace? Why hadn't they come back if they were safe? Free? "Actually, no, I don't think I would've ever known."

It seemed that I had more questions for Amy than I anticipated. She knew more than she had let on about John, if she even actually was sent by him, which I now doubted. I started formulating a plan to get her and I barely noticed Crow speaking until I looked up and he was scowling.

"What?"

He shook his head, lips pulled into a sneer. "I said, I think it'd be a good idea for us to work together for now. Put the whole 'I'm going to kill you' thing behind us, just for a little."

"And why would I want to work with you?" I stopped myself from adding, you killed my best friend, clamping my mouth shut instead.

"Because we have a common goal."

"And that is?"

"Kill Conner, find out where they went off too."

My lips parted in a sigh. "Why?"

"Don't you want to know where John and little lover boy went off too?"

I groaned, throwing my head into my hands as I snarled, "Ace isn't my lover, why does every demon think that?"

Crow chuckled in response, deep and low from his throat.

Looking up, I rubbed my forehead and said to him, "Listen, as much as I want to find John and get him to explain what the hell is going on, there's just a few things I need to do first."

"And that is?"

"Well, I need to kill Amy and make sure Tobias doesn't kill me."

He grinned, lips curling up into a sinister smirk. "And I think I could help you with that."

"How?"

"I could hide you, easily."

I frowned. "Where?"

"My cabin."

My mouth fell open and my heart, my stupid little heart, began to race in my chest. Could I do that? Just go to his place? "What, like your house?"

He nodded, tipping the can back and downing what was left. "Would that be an issue?"

"Yes," I scoffed, nodding my head. Not only could our truce fall apart and I could be killed, but I don't think I would be able to trust myself around him. The idea of being alone with him, in his home, made a rush of heat flush to my cheeks.

"I just said I wouldn't kill you, how much more do you want?"

My mouth opened and closed like a fish, feeling hot under my blankets. I threw them off, shaking my head and scooting to the end of the bed, my feet planted firmly on the ground. I needed to breathe, I needed to feel the cold air against my skin.

Could I live with a killer? Just like that? After everything he's done, after everything he's taken from me?

"No," I breathed, shaking my head as I felt my throat tighten with the rolling feeling of emotion. "No," I said again, even louder as I stood, shaking my head as I felt my hands start to shake by my sides.

Do not give him the satisfaction of you giving in. Do not give him what he wants.

I looked to the door, feeling the shake creep up past my hands and into my nervous heart. My eyes slid to his and I couldn't stop the bark, couldn't stop the overflowing rampage as I snarled, "How dare you think I would live with you, after everything you've done."

"Blaire." He was standing now too, bare feet against the disgusting carpet in our disgusting room. He looked at me through the darkness, lightning flashing behind him and illuminating the worry.

"No," I hissed, holding up a hand to keep him back, as if that would stop him. "Get the hell away from me!"

Invisible pain swept over me and I felt the urge to double over and gasp for air. It crawled over my skin, digging into muscle and bone, eating me. I could still see her so clearly, her ruined flesh and her lifeless eyes. The gray seeping into her once warm color, her blood vibrant and dark all around her. All over everything.

I could see reds of all shades, bright and garnet and wet, the color of spilled wine.

"Blaire, please, you'll be safe with me." He took a step forward and I took a step back, barely recognizing how close to the wall I was until my heels hit.

"I won't ever be safe with you," I whispered, feeling the warmth creep back up to my face, seeping deep. "You're the reason I'm in the middle of all of this shit! You're the reason my father is dead, my-my--" I couldn't breathe but I forced it out with a ruthless choke, "--my mother."

"I didn't kill your mother," he said with a soft tone, stepping closer and to my dismay, I could not escape. He brought a new kind of warmth with him as he approached me and I tilted my head up to face him.

"How can I even trust you?" I said, my voice rising. "How can I believe a word you say?"

As he took another step to get even closer, I planted my palms flat against his chest and pushed him back, watching him stumble. He braced himself against my bed and I rushed at him again, pushing him back as I let out a desperate scream, "You took everything from me!" Why isn't he fighting back? Why isn't he fighting?! "You took her from me! You took her! You killed her!"

The tears came quickly and with ease.

They rushed down my cheeks and I sucked in a deep breath, choking on it like acid. It felt like my throat was closing up and I reached a hand up to touch my neck, slick with the fast paced tears. A hot sweat coated my skin and I felt confined in our little space, like the world was closing in and my shirt was growing tighter.

She was never coming back.

I dropped to one knee, no longer able to hold myself up as I gripped the edge of the bed with one hand. It was hard to catch my breath, the air was thick and it felt like I was swimming through a fog. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, just the ungodly sounds I wished to conceal.

"Are you awake?" I whispered, rolling over in bed.

"Yeah," she mumbled back, eyes closed with her hands curled up close to her chest. Her hair was pulled into a mess of a bun, falling apart from restless sleep. "Why-" she yawned and I smiled. "-why are you awake, red?"

Her eyes opened and even though they looked like vast lakes in the dark, they still held their vibrancy. Their life.

"Are you worried?" she whispered, unfurling one hand and reaching out. She didn't have to go far, as her bed wasn't too large. I reached out with her and we clasped our hands together, her warmth coating my hand, soothing me.

"Aren't I always?" I said back, shrugging.

"I'll be there," she said in such a soft voice that I was afraid she was going back to sleep. "You know I will, always."

I nodded back, knowing she would never be far. She would never leave and that was a comfort I sought out frequently. She smiled and I noticed the small gap between her teeth, something I forgot about from time to time. Even through the darkness, I could pinpoint every detail to her face.

The beauty of her freckles. The way some of her lashes were blonde. A little scar on her jaw that she told me she got when she fell off her bike as a child. Even the slight bump in her nose that mirrored mine, like we truly were twins lost at birth.

"You won't be alone through this," she said, startling me out of my admiration. She gripped my hand harder, squeezing, telling me she was here, that I wasn't nearly as gone as I thought I was. "We started this together, right?" She smiled at this and I heard the beginning of a laugh in her voice. "It's only right that we end it together, too."

Archer Crow's hands were on my face and my eyes finally met his. I wanted to recoil out of his touch but he looked scared, his lips moving but I could hear nothing over the roar of my own heart, screaming at me to run. To strike. To fight. To give in.

"Breathe," his voice came in and I nodded, forcing the air in through my nose and out my mouth.

I shuddered, noticing that both my knees were now pressed firmly to the ground, my back feeling drenched from sweat and even the collar around my neck feeling damp from tears. But I felt myself calm after a few minutes of struggling, my heart slowly eased itself into its normal beat and the tears no longer welled.

He brushed back the hair was clung to my face and gathered my eyes with his. Concern bunched in his brows, his lips parted as he seemed to be fighting with himself over what to say and what to do. Instead of words, he brushed my hair back some more and ran his thumbs over my cheeks to dry my skin.

"What were her last words?" I said, licking chapped lips. I needed to know, to have some comfort in hearing what she said for the last time. To know where her heart was. "Please."

He stared at me and I refused to break, narrowing my eyes until he finally spoke dreadful words. "She said nothing."

I could taste his lie, feel it crawl up my skin like a disease.

"Liar," I breathed and felt something snap inside me and I launched myself forward. My grip on his neck wasn't enough and the instant I sprang, he tossed me up and over him like I was nothing.

I landed roughly on my back and gasped, seeing a variety of glittering stars. I pounded a fist into the carpet but didn't let my own anger stop me as I rolled and got to my feet but he was on me before I even had the chance to push towards him again.

My back hit the closed door and I heard thunder over the sound of my cry. His hand was on my neck but there was no pressure, just the subtle reassurance that he would happily strangle me before my next words.

"Don't you ever call me that," he hissed, bringing his face close to mine to snarl. Our breaths mingled, the air no longer our own. His chest was flushed against mine and I felt useless, like the little girl they'd always called me. "I am not a liar."

I bit back my smile, yes, show me who you are, who you've been this whole time.

"Then tell me what she said," I said back, fighting against his grip and he snatched my wrist before I could hit him, trapping it against the door with the rest of my body. He pressed a firm knee in between my legs, keeping me right where he wanted. "Tell me what she said to you before you killed her."

"She cried out for you," he growled, teeth clenched together my heart came undone. "Is that what you wanted me to say?! She begged for you! She thought you were going to save her!"

I thrashed, violently, kicking and slamming my head back and forth. I would not let up until he released me, feeling like the true feral beast I was always supposed to become. I opened my mouth, like my jaw had finally unhinged and I let out scream after scream, my throat going raw.

Kill him, my heart screamed.

"Kill him," the ghosts howled.

He let me go and I dropped back to the heels of my feet and wasted no time. I threw the motel door open and it slammed back with the wind. I didn't wait to hear what he had to say before taking off running into the storm.

I was instantly drenched and I couldn't see through the darkness and the gray haze of the rain. I could see the gas station and I knew if I made it, I could call for help. Get away from him, send him to prison, anything. I would not allow him to die, to have that satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

His time would come and I could only hope that it would be at my hand and my hand alone. He would finally reap what he so desperately sowed.

"Blaire! Stop!" he howled behind me and my feet splashed through the water in the parking lot.

I ignored the pain in my bare feet as I stepped on uneven, broken gravel. I felt hands try to pull at the back of my shirt, missing by a few inches, and even felt his hand swipe through my hair but I kept running.

I knew, deep in my heart, that Crow was lying. That he wasn't even there the night she died, he might have suspected she was dead, as I had even though I would never admit it to myself. He had known and he had wanted to save me from the pain of finding her. It was because of his desperation, his own fear finally revealing itself, that I knew he could not have been the one to kill her and that her last words were lost to him as they were for me.

I hated the liar that he was and the one I was sure to become.

I spat water out of my mouth, feeling like I would surely drown in the weather as the wind forced my movement to the sides like a staggering drunk. It seemed that this bout of wind was the perfect moment for Crow to catch up because I felt his arms finally wrap around me and he yanked me up and I kicked the air with all my might, screaming.

"Stop it!" I fought back with everything and it was enough to send us both to the ground and I cried out as I rolled, landing roughly on my side and feeling my skin tear on one of my knees and elbow.

I tried to get to my feet but he was faster and stronger, slamming me back to the concrete and forcing me to look at him as I battered his hands and arms with my fists. He sat fully on top of me so I had no way of kicking him and I would never overpower him, not like this. He grabbed my wrists with both hands, stopping me from pounding away at his chest and shoulders.

I hadn't even realized I had started to cry again until I finally registered the sound of my sobs over rain and wind. I was soaking wet and knew I would only get an infection or something worse from lying in this dirty water and he knew it as my body finally stilled.

"Are you done?" he hissed and I nodded, blinking up at him and the form I could barely see from the pounding rain drops.

He released his grip and eased off of me, standing over me and offering a hand. I ignored it, rolling to my side and getting up on my own, careful not to press my wounded knee into the ground as I stood.

I trudged painfully back to the motel room and he followed a few steps behind, giving me room to breathe, wary that I'd spin around and pummel his face in like I desired. Once inside the motel room, I heard him close the door behind us and we were forced into the quiet, the sound now drowning behind the walls.

I looked down at my knee as I hobbled to the bed but stopped myself from sitting. I wasn't going to let my only sleeping place be soaking wet for the night. Instead, I propped my foot up on the bedside table, looking at the mess as Crow went into the bathroom. I eyed my jacket on the bed, knowing it would be all too easy to grab my knife and strike when he least expected it.

I held back even though my own personal demons yelped and nipped at me to kill him. To end it all.

I need him as an ally, I reminded myself again. He would be a useful tool against Conner and the devil he wanted to welcome home. Crow was more powerful than Conner, than Ace and John combined and I would need him if my suspicions came true.

If John and Ace had flipped sides, corrupted all the same as Conner and Jonathan Blood.

I touched my knee, wincing at the sting as my blood ran down my shin with the rain water. Even in the dark, my blood was bright, a clear contrast against my legs. I bent my arm and looked at the damage done to my elbow and found, happily, no blood, only a dull scratch. I had little scratches that bled across the edges of my palms when I had tried to brace myself.

"Here," Crow murmured from behind me and I didn't bother dropping my leg to turn, craning my head. He held out a washcloth, damp with water from the sink. "Clean it the best you can and then I can help."

"Help?"

He nodded and I took the cloth.

I pressed it to my knee, the water cold. I wiped up the dripping blood and then patted my palms and elbow. The water stung but it cleaned all the same.

He sat on one of the towels meant for the shower on his bed and held a small pocket knife in his hand. I watched him cut across his palm and barely even wince as his black blood rose up and pooled.

"Come here," he murmured and I did so, reluctantly. He dabbed his thumb into his blood, coating the pad of his finger with the tar before beckoning me closer.

"What are you doing?" I whispered and he rolled his eyes and snatched my wrist to yank me forward, minding the blood on his finger.

"Healing you the best I can."

He started with the gash on my head and he painted, delicately. He used his fingers as brushes, coating and reapplying as he coated my wounds like an artist. In an instant, I felt the weariness in my head fade and then disappear completely, along with the dull ache.

He snatched up the rag from my hands and wiped his blood clean from my skin and I brought a hand up, feeling for the wound I had nearly grown accustomed to in the past few hours and found that it was gone.

"How?"

"My blood can heal not only me, but others," he said simply, shrugging.

"But why use it on me?" I asked, finding that my voice was softer than I had tended for. It was gentle, curious.

"I'm not all bad, you know," he said and his lips curled up like he wanted to smirk but he shook his head, the smile fading. "Better for you to return to society without looking beat up, don't you think?"

I nodded, swallowing thickly.

He wiped at his hands with the rag and I noticed his palm was free of the cut, only a faint thin line remained, the steady bearings of a scar. I wondered how many scars he had, how many he had hid away, how many he had given others.

"My offer still stands," he murmured, standing and I took a surprisingly step back at how close we stood. "Come stay with me and we can stop Tobias together," he urged but his face held no desperation. "We can find Conner and Blood, and stop them together."

"Why? Why do you want this so badly?" I asked, brows furrowing but I held my ground. I would not move, not until I forced him to.

He looked away, running a hand over his mouth and jaw. He stood strong before, a general ready for battle but now he was weary, tired. "They've forced my hand too many times and I'm not ready to give up what I've accomplished. I'm not giving up the empire I built for a few idiots who found higher meaning in a being sent to kill us all."

"The devil?" I breathed and he nodded, grimly. "But the summonings, weren't you--?"

"I'll admit, I craved the same power they all did," he said, meeting my gaze. His hair clung to his face, same as mine, and droplets fell from the ends like matching tears. "But I see what that power can do, how it can corrupt and take and take until there's nothing left. It drives good men to their deaths and I refuse to be just another corpse in the end. They want your blood to bring him back and I won't allow that."

"But my blood can give you power, how do I know you won't just drain me like everyone wants?"

"I'm quite fond of you alive," he smirked and I could see that old charm weaving its way back to the surface. "And I think you'd make a beautiful prisoner."

I opened my mouth to snap at him but he held up his hands and laughed, "Only joking. I know now it's probably best not to fight you back on any of this. You have the same fire I do and I know better than to go seeking it out."

"Swear to me," I whispered and his eyes softened upon my gaze. "Swear not to hurt me, that we'll be partners."

He nodded and said breathlessly, "I swear it."

"No fighting, no killing."

He nodded again before cocking his head to the side and grinning, "No killing at all or just you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just me."

"Perfect."

He stepped past me and I held my ground, letting him brush against me on his way into the bathroom to discard the rag. When he returned, he stilled in the doorway, watching me as I turned to face him.

We were both still drenched and there was nothing to do since the power had gone out. The gods had forsaken us, encasing our world in the darkness we so desired and longed for. Trapped together, just as the fates wanted.

"Is this really all for your church?" I asked, crossing my arms as a chill settled firmly in the room. "Rebelling against everything you've grown up with?"

He nodded, slowly, like he was unsure of his own reasonings.

"Why give all of that up for someone like me?"

"Killing you would make things easier," he admitted with a shrug. "Killing you would make me the most powerful person in a room but the world needs you."

"Tell me more about that," I murmured, shuffling over to my bed and resting at the end, careful not to get too much wet. "You and everyone have been so cryptic about that, even my mother. She talks about a prophecy in her journals, something that I was born into, made for."

"It's not my place to tell you," was his only response before crossing the room back to his bed.

"If we're going to be..." I swallowed, holding back disgust that made his lips curl up into a smirk as I said, "...be friends, then you need to tell me everything."

"Haven't you been curious as to why there are no more necromancers like you? That the only one you've heard of before you was your father?"

I paused. He was right. I had been wondering that, but even when my mother wrote about it, none of it made any true sense. I understood from what I've read that the necromancers were dying off and that, at some point, I would be the only one left. That the necromancers had a purpose only I could fulfill. They were a dying breed marked by my birth.

"My mom said they started dying after I was born," I murmured and he nodded.

"I've worked closely with necromancers for ages," he explained to me. "It's just easier to work with them instead of against, especially in my line of work."

"What do they even do for you?"

"They found secrets, lies, weaknesses."

Ghosts could see everything, they were our invisible slaves. They were here constantly, even if we didn't know. Lingering in the gray, in between geatas, they were bound to notice what we couldn't. The perfect spies.

"It made my job easier, knowing how my enemy worked. It's something Cage did for me on occasions. The ghosts had information I wasn't willing to let go of, it's something I'm hoping you'll be able to do for me one day."

"You want to use me like you did my father?"

"I won't use you," he said. "I would never do that to you."

"Then what?"

"It's just simply helping the other. I'm sure there are some things you'd want to know from them, too. Information on family, on friends, on...Ace."

Was I willing to sell my soul to a ghost for a few secrets about my lost friend? Was I willing to delve deeper into this pact with the man responsible for so much death and hatred?

He shifted on the bed so he could speak to me more directly, his tone softening to an almost whisper. "I've heard different versions of the prophecy you keep mentioning, mostly from what Cage found when working for me. In our early days together, before the start of the constant summonings, we decided to search for the answers you're looking for now." He ran a hand through his hair, the ends curling up around his ears. "Sometime into the future, a necromancer would be born with the ability to kill the devil and stop the end times. They would be gifted, strong, more powerful than anyone could imagine. Of course, most of it sounded like a load of crap because ghosts can lie and cheat, but all the stories were linked through the devil."

"So, you decided to try and summon him instead?" I laughed. "Cage's spirits warn you about the end of the world and you decide to try and bring out the guy who's going to bring it?"

"To kill him meant power, power I wanted," he said. "The Morticianers, we wanted what the power brought, the...glory. Cage wanted the same, for a while. Your mother, Louise, she never understood what it meant to kill him, what we'd all get out of it. To be given what was stolen, powers and life, it made us drunk with want."

Killing the devil granted humans exactly what they've always desired. Power. Even I could admit the idea of becoming stronger than I am with the help of whatever flowed in the devil's veins excited me. But I knew what it meant to bring him here, to have him walk amongst us, to have the power to kill and never stop.

The devil could cast his greed, his anger, and his lust the second he was brought forth. He would send this world into madness.

"And you think that I'm this great and powerful necromancer meant to kill him?" I asked, amused. I couldn't help my smile because how could it be me? Cage's daughter, a nobody outside of this town.

"You could be."

"Is there a way to prove it?"

"Only way is to find another known necromancer."

I pursed my lips. "And if we do?"

"We?"

I rolled my eyes and let my smile creep to my face. "Yes, we."

He sighed and looked at me, his hands a fumbling mess in his lap. He looked like he didn't want to admit what was gnawing at him.

"Crow, what happens if we find another necromancer?" I asked, feeling a familiar tightness return to my chest.

His eyes left mine and the storm outside seemed too loud, like it was in the room with us. It seemed like my body knew what he was going to say before my brain, my hands clamming up, a strange cold sweat coating the back of my neck, a sickling feeling in my stomach as everything became too much to handle. I could feel the droplets of rain that clung to my skin, running down in thin trails.

"Tell me."

He turned to look at me and my heart sank. His words were ice, they were daggers.

"It means you have to die."

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oop ok a lil bonding...a lil crying w my babies

how do you guys feels about the crow/blaire friendship?

unrelated but i miss pandora wtffff

comment/vote or you'll never get ur hot girl moment in a motel w crow