Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“And not an option,” Wyatt said.

Yet.

“If Tovin dies before the contract expires, Wyatt is free of his obligations,” Amalie continued.

“Makes sense,” I said. “And definitely a more plausible scenario, since he’s proving to be a number one asshole anyway.”

“Tovin’s well protected,” Wyatt said. “Few ever know where to find him, and he conjures. He could make you see things you can’t even imagine.”

I patted his hand. “And you can only summon the power of the sun. Weakling.”

“Very funny.”

“The caveat to killing Tovin,” Amalie said, “is that at the moment of his death, Evangeline’s time is also up.”

“If he dies, I die?”

“Yes.”

Terrific.

“What’s the third option?” Wyatt asked.

Amalie’s cobalt eyes burned. “If Wyatt dies before the end of the time frame, then Evangeline is freed of her constraints and may continue to inhabit her new body.”

A tremor ran up my spine. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open. In two days, no one had ever presented me with an option that included me living past the seventy-two hours. Three days was it, so no use in making plans. Knowing the option existed exhilarated me, even though the price was impossible to pay.

“Evy could live,” Wyatt said. His soft, contemplative tone alarmed me.

“Fuck you, Truman,” I snarled, disentangling myself from his arms. “There is no way that’s happening.”

“Evy—”

“No!” I stalked to the other side of the room, hit the wall, and rounded to the opposite side of the buffet table. I glared at him over the display of uneaten food and drink. “Absolutely not, so fucking forget about it. If you even think it, I’ll have someone bring you back just so I can kill your ass myself.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny.”

“No, it isn’t, and I’m dead serious.”

“You could keep on living, Evy.”

“I died, Wyatt.” My voice rose to just below screaming, but I didn’t care. “I’m supposed to be dead right now, so who cares if I’m dead again in a day? I don’t want it, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I will not spend the rest of my afterlife worrying if you’re going to try and commit some sort of noble suicide. I’d rather take a flying leap off this walkway and land on my head.”

“Please,” Amalie said. “Now is not the time for such arguments. Now is the time for eating and resting. You need your strength if you are both to find a solution to the puzzle facing you.”

Wyatt and I glared at each other for seconds that stretched into minutes. Neither of us wanted to back down. Wyatt wanted me to live. But as much as I wanted it, too, I couldn’t knowing everything he’d given up for me. I’d lost Jesse and Ash. I’d lost Max and Danika. I’d lost Alex. I had nothing without Wyatt. Even the gift of life wasn’t enough.

He blinked and looked away. My anger deflated. We silently filled silver plates with food and crystal goblets with wine. I stayed on my side of the table and sat down on a long, granite bench. Wyatt sat on his side, still opposite me. He began slicing a pear into halves, then quarters.

I bit into the strawberry first. Its sweet juice splashed over my tongue, the most exquisite thing I’d tasted in days. I ate it in slow bites, savoring the flavor and texture.

“Why is this place called First Break?” Wyatt asked.

“The waterfall outside is not for show,” Amalie said. “Its waters mask a gateway, much stronger than the Sanctuaries guarded above, and it is why we settled here belowground. It is the main source of power for the Fair Ones. It is what allows the Gifted, such as yourself, their unique talents.”

“Do all Dre—do all nonhumans know it’s here?”

“Most can sense it, yes; however, only a select few outside of the Fey know of its precise location in the forest.”

“Is that why all the nonhumans move to this city? The power source?”

Amalie shook her head, a patient teacher. “First Break existed here centuries before a city was built in the valley; the gateway since before my peoples’ memory begins. Many travel, but they always return, as we have always been here.”

“They just haven’t been so obvious about it as in recent years.”

“Precisely.”

“Where does the gateway go?”

“Are you familiar with the writings of John Milton?”

“Mysteries?” I asked.

Wyatt snorted; I glared.

“No,” she said. “He wrote of the fall of man and the journey through Hell. Milton disguised his work as fiction, but he was not just a man. He was companion to a gnome prince who lived through that journey and thought to tell others about it. We considered masking the work, but there is no better place to hide than in plain sight.”

“So that pool is what?” Wyatt asked. “A gateway to Hell?”

“Precisely.”

I stopped chewing a mouthful of almonds and stared. Cold dread trickled through my body. Wyatt puckered his lips and scrunched his eyebrows. Amalie seemed unaffected. She sipped a goblet of wine like she’d rehearsed this conversation a hundred times and found it dull.

“What’s on the other side?” Wyatt asked.

“Creatures long ago banished from walking the Earth. The Greeks called them Titans. The Christians call them demons. We call them the Tainted. They are driven only by instinct and pure emotion—desire and rage, lust and need.”

“And you keep them from crossing over?”

“The Tainted cannot cross the Break on their own. They have no free will, you see, only instinct.”

I was definitely starting to see. I swallowed the almonds and chased them down with a gulp of wine—sweet and pungent—as Amalie continued.

“Someone with knowledge of First Break and its powers can summon the Tainted across it. Our duty here is to protect it from those who would try. Summoning even one across the Break could be devastating to this world.”

“These Tainted,” Wyatt said. “Can they be controlled by the summoner?”

“They are uncontrollable—pure beings of consumption and need. Once the Tainted enters its host’s body, it is unleashed and the host is no more.”

“Host?”

“They possess no physical form on the other side. They are energy and emotion. Part of the summoning is the presentation of a host.”

I dropped my goblet. It clattered to the table, splashing maroon liquid on the front of my dress, but I didn’t care. “That’s it,” I said.

“What’s it, Evy?” Wyatt asked, standing up. Alarmed.

“All of this, Wyatt. Tovin and the Bloods and me dying and you giving up your free will for it and them holding us prisoner. It all makes perfect sense now.”

Wyatt frowned, not understanding. I sought help from Amalie, and she nodded sagely. She’d known it all along; she was only waiting for us to figure it out. Damn her and bless her both.

“Tovin wants power, which means ensuring his dominance,” I said. “What better way to do that than by summoning a demon to possess a man whose free will he already controls? He’ll have a lethal weapon that can’t disobey.”

I’d heard the expression “all the blood drained from his face,” but had never actually seen it in person. The color bled out of Wyatt’s face, leaving him deathly pale. His black eyes shimmered, a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. Even his lips turned white as he pressed them together. Nostrils flaring, he clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth might snap.

“We believe that is his plan,” Amalie said.

Her words seemed lost on Wyatt. He stared at the table, hands in his lap, his entire body rigid. I was on my feet and by his side before I registered moving. He vibrated with tension, maybe even fear. The demon would have his powers, as well as his body.