“What is it?” he asked as he stopped fiddling with the dagger.
I cocked my head at him. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen. Why?”
“You’re the youngest Council member I’ve ever heard of.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Is that a compliment?”
“Just an observation. Why aren’t you a Hunter?”
His expression darkened, and he dropped his gaze. “My tainted bloodline.”
I frowned. “What?”
He shook his head, his jaw tense. “My mother was a witch, yes, but my father’s identity . . . muddles things a bit.”
My mouth fell open. “The Council wouldn’t let you become a Hunter?”
“No, the Council had no problem with it. The other Hunters, however, refused to work with me.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because no one knows the identity of my father. For all they know, he could’ve been a demon, and my loyalties would be divided.”
“But the Council doesn’t care?”
“They welcome the diversity. I think they would be overjoyed if my father were a demon. It would make me half and half. The exact neutrality they would hope for.” Bitterness tainted his tone.
“Are you at all worried?” I asked quietly. “About the identity of your father?”
Oliver shook his head. “I’ve lived this long without him and functioned perfectly. I don’t need to know who he is. It has nothing to do with who I am.”
His words resonated within me, and my heart lifted. Moisture tickled my eyes. I swallowed and dropped my gaze.
“What about your parents?” he asked.
I shrugged, keeping my gaze averted. “What about them?”
“How did they die?”
The question was so matter-of-fact. When most people asked, it was in hushed tones like I was a child who needed to be shielded from this tragic memory. I looked at him with a deadpan expression. “They were hunting a Third Tier demon lord. He killed them.”
Oliver nodded, his face blank. Empty of sympathy, pity, understanding. Empty of every reaction I loathed when talking about my parents. “Were you close?”
A lump formed in my throat. I nodded. “I was going to become a Huntress because of them.”
“And now what do you want to do?”
I sniffed and stared fixedly at the floorboards. “I cast that time travel spell to run away,” I whispered. “I got into this summer intensive program at a ballet school, and I thought it was my ticket to a magic-free life. But . . . I don’t know, seeing those Santeros and hearing them scream for help—I couldn’t not do something. I’ve been hiding under this rock for the last five years, avoiding the demon crime that’s just gotten worse and worse. But I know if I’d seen it firsthand like I have here, I would’ve done something by now. Instead of hiding like a fracking coward.”
Oliver leaned forward, his eyes earnest. “Desi, you are not a coward.”
My eyes blurred and I half smiled, half grimaced. “You’re the one who asked if I fight or flee when facing danger. I usually flee.”
Oliver scooted closer until he sat a foot away from me. He ducked his head, forcing me to look at him. My eyes were hot with tears of shame and anger.
“That’s because you’re untrained,” he said softly. “Not because you’re a coward. When you heard those Santeros screaming for help, did you run? No. You said, ‘We have to help them.’ And I watched you march right up to Alba and offer to help evacuate civilians. Those aren’t the actions of a coward, Desi.”
The lump in my throat throbbed, and I swallowed. My chest tightened with unpleasant emotions that suffocated me—grief, guilt, self-loathing. Oliver’s face swam in and out of focus as tears pooled in my eyes.
I rubbed my nose, laughing nervously. “You don’t know me, Oliver.”
“I know you better than you think.”
I looked at him, my smile vanishing. He leaned closer, his knee bumping against my bare leg, which sent shivers up and down my body.
“I owe you an apology. For what I said in the demon caves about women not being on the Council.”
I shook my head. “You already apologized.”
“No, I apologized for what I said, but I didn’t fully understand—until now. I think it’s wrong that women aren’t offered the same opportunities as men. It’s wrong that the Council won’t employ women. You are incredible, Desi. And if it were up to me, you’d be on the Council in a heartbeat. They would be lucky to have someone like you.”
I swallowed, heat searing my face. “I—thank you,” I whispered numbly.
For a while, we sat there, gazing at each other. My skin burned where his knee rested against my leg, but I clung to that touch and didn’t dare shift for fear of breaking it.
I heaved a deep breath, blinking to break free of the hot haze of Oliver’s eyes boring into mine. “Tell me something.” I kicked his boot, and he kicked back.
“What?”
I leaned forward intently. “Why haven’t you told your coven that you’re on the Council? Or at least Alba.”
Oliver sighed heavily and stared at his knees. “I think Alba knows. She hasn’t said anything, but with her abilities and intuition, she certainly suspects something. I’m not opposed to her finding out. She is the least judgmental person I’ve ever met. But if I never broach the subject, then we never have to talk about why. And I’m worried she will feel obligated to tell me more about my father.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t want to know?”
Oliver shook his head, his eyebrows creasing. “No. From what I know of him, finding out anything more would only make things worse.”
I nodded. “And what about the rest of your coven? Surely they would understand.”
“I already feel judged for my bloodline,” Oliver said bitterly. “This will just reinforce the idea that my father is a demon. You can’t serve on the Council if you aren’t at least a little sympathetic toward the side of dark magic.”
“Are you?”
Oliver didn’t meet my gaze. His eyes were distant. Somber. “Yes. I understand the
