My lungs constricted. I willed that desire away, but the heady heat lingered, nibbling at the edges of my chest.
Was I totally confident that I could control it? No. Let’s be real—just a few minutes ago, I’d scalded myself with that power without meaning to.
Could I say it definitely wasn’t as big and bad as the Highest claimed? I didn’t want to think it was. But there’d been moments when I’d been able to picture leveling entire cities. Just how fiercely could those flames fly if I gave them free rein, if I let them build and build—?
The nibbling turned into a scorching gnawing. I dragged in another breath, dampening the inner fire as well as I could.
Omen was still studying me. The taut slant of his mouth suggested he’d been able to read a fair bit of my inner struggle. The fact that I hadn’t answered yet was probably answer enough.
“I don’t want to destroy anything,” I said. “Well, other than the Company assholes… and I suppose that former co-conspirator of yours who’s apparently supporting them?”
His revelations about my past had been interrupted by a much more current shocker: our plan to demolish the Company of Light, an organization dedicated to ridding all realms of the creatures they considered monsters, had been foiled by a powerful shadowkind Omen had once associated with. He’d believed this sphinx named Tempest was dead, killed centuries ago on the orders of the Highest for the havoc she’d wreaked among mortals.
Why any shadowkind would want to help mortals torment and destroy her own kind was beyond me, and Omen hadn’t appeared to have any idea either.
Now, he grimaced at me. “No changing the subject. I’ll deal with Tempest when the time comes. The problem you pose is more pressing.”
“Why? Can’t we just assume I’ll get my superpowers under control with a little more practice, like you’ve always said? I’ve managed to go twenty-eight years without decimating the entire planet—how urgent can it be?”
“You hadn’t really activated your powers until a few weeks ago. In that time, I’ve watched them grow swiftly. I don’t think you’d be able to make much of a case with the Highest based on that argument.”
My stomach was starting to sink, but there’d never been a situation where a little spin on an ‘80s song couldn’t brighten at least a little. I raised my eyebrows at him and let a lyric slip out. “I’m starting with the man even nearer. I’m asking, rearrange this day-a-ay.”
There came the fangs again. “Do you really think buffoonery is the answer to—"
“Fine, fine. I’m trying to stay in glass-half-full territory. I can be a model of seriousness that’d make even Thorn proud.” I put on my best somber expression, definitely channeling the stalwart wingéd. “Why do you care what the Highest want anyway? They hardly bother with this world unless some shadowkind is causing a total catastrophe, right? I’m assuming you didn’t tell them you’ve been hanging out with the horrifying human-shadowkind hybrid they’ve been searching for. Couldn’t we get back to crushing the Company, and if my powers start heading in a direr direction, then you can make a decision?”
“It’s not that simple,” Omen said, and paused, as if he was debating whether he could get away with leaving it at that. I cleared my throat as a prompt to continue, and he glared at me. “The rest isn’t your concern.”
Oh, yeah? I drew on whatever reserves of calm I still possessed and managed to ask the question in a quiet, earnest tone rather than the acidic one that I’d wanted to toss at him. “Considering what happens here is a matter of life or death for me, I think it’s more my concern than it could be anyone else’s. If there’s something else going on, don’t I deserve to know?”
Omen’s jaw worked. “It isn’t about what you deserve.”
“What is it about, then?” When he continued to balk, I peered up at him, wishing I had Ruse’s skill for cajoling. “Hell, maybe if you explain it to me, I’ll see some loophole you haven’t noticed. I’m very good with getting out of tight situations, as you may have observed.”
He let out a rough chuckle. “I think this is beyond even your thieving talents, Disaster.”
“I’ve proven you wrong before.” I sucked in a breath. “Please. I just want to understand. I thought—I thought we’d gotten to a place where we did understand each other pretty well. If you’re going to lead me to the slaughter, I’d just like to know why.”
Something in my voice must have gotten through to him. Omen turned away with a muttered curse. He paced the width of the room, his hands clenched at his sides, and then turned back to me.
“The Highest didn’t just tell me what you are and what they’d like to see happen to you,” he said. “They outright ordered me to inform them of where ‘Ruby’ is as soon as I found that out.”
“From what I’ve seen, you don’t generally follow orders just because someone gave them to you,” I felt the need to point out.
“Yes, well, this is a special case.” He fell silent, and for a moment I thought he might clam up again. But then he spoke, low and terse. “I didn’t see the error of my infernal ways soon enough. Before I ended my vicious games with the mortals, the Highest caught wind of them and of my past schemes with Tempest. They would have ended me the way they did her if I hadn’t managed to convince them it was worth their while to strike a deal instead.”
A chill rippled down my spine. “What kind of deal?”
“I carry out ten tasks of their choosing, and then we’re even as long as I keep my nose clean. Until then, they’ve got a magical choke chain around my neck that they can tug on whenever they please. They made finding Ruby my last task.”
“Oh.” Even though I was sitting still, my balance wavered on the mattress. “So until you deliver on that…”
“I remain in their grasp,” he said grimly.
“And what would happen if they found out you know where I am but didn’t turn me over right away?”
“I’d imagine they’d decide I’ve reneged on our deal and that it’s fair play to eviscerate me after all.”
I swallowed hard. All he had to do was point the Highest my way, and he’d have his freedom back. I had plenty of experience with the hellhound shifter’s pride—I couldn’t imagine how much it’d chafed at him having that leash around his neck all this time. By even thinking it over, he was risking his entire continued existence.
It was a miracle he hadn’t pointed a blinking neon sign my way the second they’d made their demand.
An unfamiliar emotion rolled over me, suffocatingly heavy. Hopelessness—that was the word for it. I wasn’t just backed into a corner but down the bottom of a deep, dark pit without a single avenue out.
“Well,” I said, and for once in my life I didn’t have any words to follow that with.
“Yes.” Omen sounded more resigned than anything. “You’re welcome to put your sticky situation skills to that.”
I met his eyes again, searching them for some kind of answer there. “Why haven’t you thrown me to them already?”