He was silent for a long time, as if weighing up a hundred different answers – all of them circling around the ugly truth. His fingers were still against mine, and he gazed with a blank expression out across the sea. The colours warped and fragmented as they deepened, pastel pinks and oranges blooming into resplendent, bright beams of rose and tangerine. Rather than watch Cyrus holding the muscles in his face taut – too taut, controlled – I too looked out at the shimmering water. Eventually, through tight lips, he spoke. “Yes.” It was as though the dam had burst with that single word. “Yes, I made you forget. It was a mistake – a mistake to take you on that date, knowing how desperately I wanted to be honest with you, and knowing the consequences of my honesty. I – Callie, I wanted to learn where you stood, without having to face the repercussions of my curiosity. I… apologise.” He swallowed any furthe

My heart thrummed and pulsed with sheer joy at our closeness as we walked along the cliff’s edge. Mist shrouded the sea, but the red orb hanging low in the sky would burn it away as it rose. I would juggle the new, darker morality singing within me later. It had been childish to latch onto my Dads’ words as gospel, to readily believe their tales and their lore. It had nearly cost me my life. And, though my nerves jumped with every sweeping brush of Cyrus’s fingers across the back of my hand, which clutched his like a lifeline, I was still uneasy about telling them. I could now remember exactly how poorly I’d reacted to the truth. I knew that they would react similarly – after all, it had been their influence that had guided me to such hatred. I shoved the thought aside, and instead revelled in the touch of his skin against mine. His palms were smoother than mine – no callouses drummed

The smile froze on my face. I wobbled, and stuck out a hand towards the counter to catch myself. The work surface was cool, and it pooled beneath my palm, making me shiver. I had to get her out. The humans here weren’t safe. I looked around, my breath hitching, counting heads and recognising familiar faces. I could see Dal, his broad face broken in two by a grin; I could see the Town Trio, tucked into a corner and gossiping noisily; I could see Tony, and Bill, and – My heart stopped. Sat at the counter, next to Alice, was Harper. I held my breath. I had to focus, had to think. But fear and exhaustion were swirling in my head, clawing at my brain and making it impossible to do anything more than stand and stare at the two of them. “You alright?” Grace caught me by the elbow and towed me into the back room, her eyebrows raised at me the whole way. I sagged against her,

I tightened my hand around the makeshift stake. My blade felt utterly useless – a child’s toy – as she stroke a red-clawed hand down the side of Harper’s face. He cried out, the sound muffled, as he struggled futilely against his bonds. I steeled myself, refusing to give in to the haze of panic slithering through my veins. I’d had no chance against Alice; Harper had even less of one. I had to play this carefully. My mind raced through a hundred different ideas and plans, but none of them seemed good enough. None of them seemed like enough to save him. There was no bargain she would accept. The glint in her eyes told me that. There was only one way out of this, and in accepting what had to happen I was giving myself over to her power. For Harper, I would do it. I readied my stake and blade, pulling back into a defensive stance. I had to lull her into a false sense of security. Then again, I t

Firm hands hauled me up, dragging me from under my armpits and heaving me onto my feet. The world swirled around me, so I kept my eyes closed and allowed myself to be manhandled. “You can’t fall asleep on me again, Cals,” Harper muttered. “I have to get you home so I can take a proper look at that arm.” I winced at the word home. I hoped Harper thought it was related to the throbbing in my forearm, rather than his word choice. My body did not feel entirely my own as Harper slung one of my unresponsive arms across his shoulders, tucking me tightly against his side. My legs dragged across the uneven ground, dried leaves and broken twigs mounding at my toes. “You know,” he said, his tone attempting to sound casual, conversational, “I always thought you seemed… more. More than everyone else around you. Otherwordly, almost.”