“Sorry it had to be like this, Tillie, but we can’t do this same song and dance any longer. We’ve waited, fucking god we have waited…” Nate says, and I spin around to catch his voice, but I’m met with nothingness again.
“What do you mean!”
“Little terror, wake up….” Brantley’s voice teases, bouncing off the walls.
“I can’t, Bran Bran!” I yell, squeezing my fingers. “I’m not dreaming!”
A hood is shoved over my face, blacking out my vision completely. “What the fuck!”
Handcuffs are clamped to the back of my body and I twist and turn, trying to get out of whoever’s grip is behind me.
“Move forward, baby.” Nate’s voice caresses the back of my neck.
I fight the urge to kick back. “I don’t like games…”
He thrusts me forward as I hear the elevator ding, and then I’m shoved forward again, another hand clamped around my upper arm, the one that’s holding onto Daemon’s book. The lights from the elevator filters through the material of the sack over my head.
My breathing thickens. “This is a little dramatic,” I deadpan, allowing my fake confidence to erupt in the middle of the small elevator.
Nate chuckles. “I’m done, Tillie.”
Done? What does he mean done? We were never together. The doors ding open again and I’m being dragged back into the parking lot. There’s a car idling near us and I feel them all freeze. The car sounds rich, the smooth rumble of an expensive engine.
More silence.
“You guys talking behind my back?” I tease. I really shouldn’t. I’m in no position to torment them right now.
Doors slam shut before the car skids off, the tires tearing up the asphalt.
“Move, baby.” Nate shoves me into the back of Brantley’s car and we’re off.
We’re driving for twenty minutes before we slow down, the car turning around sharp little corners.
The car stops, and I’m being yanked out. If I wasn’t wearing Nate’s hoodie, which by the way, is doing sweet fuck all to comfort me right now, I would be freezing my ass off.
A lighter flame flicks in front of my face, sifting through the mesh. It’s Nate, smirking at me. “Say her name, Tillie.”
“What?” I yank my head back. “What are you talking about?”
The light disappears. “Our daughter died.”
“Stop it, Nate.”
The lighter flicks on again. “She died, Tillie. It broke me in half, and she took that half to the grave with her. But listen to me, Tillie. She’s gone.”
“Stop it…” I warn, my eyes slamming shut.
I need Daemon. Why did I do this? The first thing I’m doing when I get back is taking him and I back to Perdita. It’s not bad there. At least I’ll be away from monsters that lurk in the dark.
“Say it, baby.”
“No!” I snap, my eyes slamming shut again.
“Why are you holding Daemon’s book?” Nate asks. Is he circling me? Is it just us here? Why is no one else speaking? I feel drops of water pelt down gently on my head through the rag.
“Because you told me to bring it!”
“Did you find what you needed?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No…”
“Say her name…” Nate mutters again.
“Nate, please,” I plead, my shoulders shaking. “I don’t want to. Don’t you understand?”
“I assure you, I do, but say her name. You never say her name out loud. Say it.”
“Bro…” Brantley’s voice cuts in, but he stops.
“Say it, Tillie!” Tears stream down my face, my knees weak. “She’s gone. You did what you could, this wasn’t your fault!”
“It was!” I snap, screaming at him. “It was my fault! I didn’t lock the door, I was the last person to see her, I took her to bed, I read her her last fucking book!” The sobs are unleashed, now my chest is jerking. I fall to my knees, curling over my thighs. “I killed her. I did it. It’s all my fault.”
Nate must drop opposite me because his face is directly in front of mine. “It’s not your fucking fault!”
Tears slip over my lips, their saltiness running on the tip of my tongue. “It was.”
“No, baby.” His hands come to my face through the rag. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. No one blames you. The only person who blames you, is you—”
“—Daemon,” I whisper. “I have to make sure he understands. I don’t think he understands that I didn’t kill her, Nate.” The sobs take hold again, my throat swelling.
Nate yanks the hoodie off my head and rain falls onto my face. It’s dark, but there are two cars parked behind me with their headlights shining on us. The first thing I notice is Nate is on his knees in front of me, the second thing I notice is all of The Kings, Bishop included, in a half-circle behind Nate, and the third thing I notice is that behind Nate, is a gravestone. D A E M O N
My eyes go back to Nate. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”
Nate licks his lips, his thumb pressing to mine. “Daemon understands, baby.”
“No—” I shake my head. “He’s different now. Lost. These nightmares—” I pause, my eyes going back to Nate. “Why are we here? This is where my nightmares are.”
Nate searches my eyes and I tilt my head to study him. “Daemon was never in that cell, baby.”
I rear back. “What? Yes, he was, and he’s been with me since. He’s in the room beside me at Brantley’s!”
Nate looks at me, his eyes softening for the first time in a long time. “He was never there. You created his existence as some sort of coping mechanism to deal with Micaela being dead. To deal with the loss, and the pain, the guilt. You grabbed onto the one person who always gave you a lifeline.”
“You…” I whisper, shaking my head. “This doesn’t make sense because he was there, Nate! He’s been there and now you’re telling me I’ve gone crazy?!” I shake my head again. “If that’s what I was doing, I would have grabbed on to you,
