“That’s impossible… It’d mean he’d have to have Reaper blood. And he can’t have Reaper blood because then it’d mean Asher would have Reaper blood in him, and I know that’s not true,” I say, my voice sounding a little off pitch. I can’t help having some doubt. I know hardly anything about Asher’s father, and from the few conversations we had about him, I got the impression that Asher’s father wasn’t that great. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s a Reaper.
I push Cameron off me and kneel up on the bed. “Quit messing with my head. If Asher’s father was a Reaper then he would have told me. And you would have told me a long time ago.”
“Why would I have told you sooner?” Cameron asks, pressing his hand to his chest where I shoved him as if my touch burned. “I barely tell you anything that’s true.”
“Exactly.”
“Believe what you want, princess. But before you go deciding things, get your facts straight.”
“And how am I supposed to do that when my entire life is a fucking mind game at the moment.”
“Maybe by going to the source and asking him.”
“I would love to, if I could, but since I have no idea where Angels go to get punished by their leader, that’s not happening anytime soon.” I pause, assessing Cameron’s reaction closely. “You wouldn’t by chance know how to bring him back, would you?”
He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Do you think if I did, I’d tell you…” He trails off, tipping his head back with his eyes to the ceiling as he smirks. “Wait a minute. We have company.”
My forehead creases. “What—”
Before I can finish, Cameron poofs into thin air with only a wisp of smoke that takes the form of a shadow left behind.
“Oh, Emmy,” Raven singsongs, and my entire body stiffens. “Can you come downstairs? I need to talk to you.”
Weeks of silence and suddenly she’s barging into my home like we’re still friends? My initial reaction is to run and hide, like I’m a little kid, but I’m not a little kid and I know if I stay up here, then she’s just going to come up. So I reach for the knife I leave on my nightstand—the one I stabbed the guy with—then walk out of the room.
When I reach the top of the stairway, I spot her standing in the foyer, twisting a strand of her bubble gum pink hair around her finger. She looks like she always does; sapphire eyes framed with glitter, glossy lips, wearing black high-heeled boots and a short dress that matches them. There are only two differences between the Raven I met when I was a kid and this one standing in front of me. This one has a fresh scar on her throat where the fake detective—that was really part of the Anamotti—slit Raven’s throat.
“What do you want?” I start down the stairway, slipping the pocket knife into my back pocket, knowing there’s no way I’d actually use it on her, but I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on the Anamotti.
She beams at me like there’s nothing going on, as though we haven’t been ignoring each other for weeks and that she never had secret rendezvous with my brother every night. That she’s not possessed by the Anamotti, even though the X branded on her arm suggests otherwise.
“I just wanted to say hi to my best friend, silly.” She meets me at the bottom of the stairs and then loops her arm through mine. I wince from the contact, her death smothering me like a heavy blanket. Standing on the ledge. Someone begs her to jump, so she does, falling to her death. She glances down at my wrists, noting the gloves I have on to cover up the lines on my skin from drinking Cameron’s life. “What’s with the arm warmers, you weirdo? You’re not even outside.”
“I always wear stuff like this,” I say, which is the truth and normally she wouldn’t question it.
She flicks the edge of the fabric with her finger. “Not when you’re just hanging at the house.” She dithers, releasing my arm with a suspicious look on her face. “Wait a minute… are you going out on a date or something?”
“You know I have no one to go out on a date with,” I remind her; or whoever’s controlling her. “Unlike you, who seems to be going out with my brother at the moment.” It’s a challenge. I’m not sure they’re still meeting up, but I’d like to find out.
She doesn’t miss a beat, managing to breezily dodge my question and focus the conversation back on me. “Maybe you have a date with that guy that moved in across the street. You know, the one that creeper Cameron lived in.”
“His uncle?” I ask. “He’s really old.”
She shrugs with a malicious twinkle in her eye. “Maybe you like old dudes now. I mean, I feel like I barely know you anymore.”
“I’m the same as I’ve always been.” I maintain her gaze, wishing I had that book again so maybe I could figure out a way to bring my friend back. “I think you’re the one that’s changed.”
“No, you’re different,” she replies. “In fact, you seem even crazier than when we first met.”
I shake my head, knowing she’s trying to get a rise out of me. “Raven, why are you here? Other than to insult me. Did you just stop by to see Ian?”
“Why would I want to see Ian?”
“Um, because you’ve been letting him paint you.” I resist an eye roll at her feigned lack of remembering. “I know you’re his secret muse that sneaks into the house.”
“Oh, I haven’t done that in a few weeks,” she says, discounting the truth. “I only came over here to see you.”
My mouth sinks to a frown. “Why?”
She grins. “Because we’re friends and I want to hang out.” Then she grabs my arm again and starts to drag me towards the front door. “I thought we could have some fun like we used to.”
“You haven’t talked to me in weeks.” I plant my feet firmly on the floor, refusing to budge. “And now suddenly you want us to be friends again?”