I had to agree with him. “But you didn’t try to stop me?”
He squared his shoulders, his gaze distant as he spoke. “I was prepared for death.”
“It almost sounds as if you wanted me to kill you.”
He looked at me, and in that moment, I saw the man I knew. His gaze caught me by surprise. Time seemed to stop. It was him—the man I knew. The man I’d loved.
I wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
“There were things I’ve wished to say to you as well, but…” He fidgeted with the handkerchief. “I understand why you hate me now. You have every reason in the world to be angry with me, and I am sure you still harbor much anger toward me. It was not my intention for my father to die such an untimely death, for I am certain things would not be as they are now. We would… I would have… ” He blew out a breath of air. “But there is no point in opening old wounds. I have come to this planet to assist the fairies in their search for the stone, and that is my only purpose. It’s important that you help in this quest, and so we must do our best to work together. I’m sorry for the pain I have caused you, but I think it would be best to focus on what is most important.”
Ice ran through my veins. It hit me then that he was never coming back.
“I agree,” I finally answered, “and I understand.” I stood and walked to the door, unable to bring myself to make eye contact with him. “I should probably get cleaned up,” I said, then left the room without another word.
Chapter 19
The hot shower helped.
I stood in my trailer’s tiny cubbyhole of a shower, watching the water turn gray as it washed away the ash from my hair and skin.
Did the ash really belong to someone departed? Perhaps some lover Madame Glitter had murdered in a jealous rage? Or a deceased loved one she’d promised to watch over? It could have been a dead pet, a shih tzu or—knowing Madame Glitter—a black mamba for all I knew. But whoever’s ashes I washed down the drain, I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy and poetic.
Death, washed in soap and tears. Ashes, like the remnants of our love, drained away, past soil and roots, past the living. Sitting. Silent. Never to be touched by sunlight again. Never to return again.
Even with my souped-up RV water heater, the water bordered on freezing after thirty-five minutes, so I finally stepped out and huddled under a towel. I dressed quickly, hoping to make it to bed and fall asleep fast. I couldn’t be awake and left to my own demons any longer—I was growing poetic, for goodness’ sake.
Sleep wouldn’t come, of course. My worries kept me awake. Would I really have killed Kull? Sure, I hated the man—but would I really have gone through with it and killed him? A country would have lost a king. Heidel would have lost a brother. Ket would have lost her fiancé. He had a mother, other siblings, and nieces and nephews I knew he adored.
Why hadn’t my magic fried him? I’d been so angry he should have been a pile of cinders by the time I’d finished with him.
Obviously, I’d never meant to kill him. My magic knew I hadn’t really meant to kill him, no matter how angry I’d been. Once again, my magic seemed to be acting of its own accord.
As I drifted to sleep with Han Solo piled up and purring on my feet, the sound of knocking startled me, and I stared apprehensively at the door. The howling wind echoed the insistent knocking. My heart rate sped up. Who could it be at this hour?
I quietly crawled out of my bed and to the window, parting the slats just enough to see outside. A man stood on my doorstep, but his features were barely discernible under the distant street lamp.
He turned his head, giving me a better look at his profile, and I exhaled as I recognized Brent. I stood straight and opened the door. He gave me a hesitant smile.
“Hi, Olive. May I come in?”
“Right now?”
“Yes. It’s rather urgent.”
“Oh.”
He’d caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to react—I wore my flannel pajamas, and a sleep fog had muddled my brain.
“Fine, come in,” I muttered.
He entered my trailer, and I shut the door behind him, but he reached past me and secured the dead bolt. I eyed him, but he gave no explanation as he began pacing the room.
“Would you like a seat?” I said, pointing to the only sitting space available, which happened to be the foot of my bed.
He waved me off. “No, no.”
I took a seat on the edge of my bed, longing to crawl back under the covers, but Brent worried me. What was he doing here?
“I thought you’d be back in Houston,” I said.
He shook his head. “No. I had to come back—there was a… development in the case.”
“What sort of development?”
“Another murder.”
“What?” I sat up straight, my sleep fog disappearing.
“I got a call an hour ago and came right over. We found her dead in her tent. She was recently deceased. Probably only been dead a couple hours.” He stopped his pacing to look at me. “Olive,” he said, “it’s not good. It was the psychic, Madame Glitter. I spoke with a few witnesses. Were you in her tent recently?”
I swallowed my panic. How could this have happened? I’d seen her only a few hours ago. “Yes, I went there this afternoon.”
“And you had an argument with her?”
“Yes.”
He nervously ran his hands through his hair. “The big guy was there, too?”
I nodded. Great. Now I’d gotten Kull involved in this mess.
“You must realize how this looks. Witnesses say they saw him and you
