of his mouth and positions it between his fingers. “Now let’s get down to business. You’re here for a year. Now, usually I don’t get someone like Keepers, and I plan on using that to my advantage.”
I rest my arms on the table. “What kind of advantage?” I ask, pretty sure I’m not going to be thrilled by his answer.
He puts the cigar down on top of an ashtray, the end still smoking. Then, he leans back in the chair with a pleased grin on his face. “I’m going to train you.”
“Train me for what? To kick your ass?”
“Watch your tone with me.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at me. “I’m going to train you to be my apprentice. I want you to learn how to become like me, so I can take control of the Afterlife. Because, with your help—with two people as strong as me—Helena doesn’t stand a chance.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” I say, trying not to laugh. “You think I’m going to help you take control of the Afterlife?”
“I don’t think. I know. Because you can’t disobey me.” He grins when I frown.
“If you do that, then I won’t even be human. I won’t even exist.”
“Oh, you’ll exist,” he says. “You’ll just be different.”
“I’ll be the scum of the freaking earth.”
“You better watch what you say.”
“Or what?” My words are fueled by my rage. I’m angry. Enraged. If he does what he says he’s going to do, then I won’t be myself again, even in a year when I’m freed. “You’re going to change me into something evil.”
The darkness in his eyes dims even lower as he leans forward, the veins in his neck bulging. “Watch how you talk to me.”
I’m planning my next choice of words carefully, when someone emerges through the side door of the small room and interrupts our argument. She’s wearing a bright red dress, has long blonde hair and a very familiar face. It takes me a minute, but I place her. She’s the Banshee I met here before—the one that led me to this room.
Her lips twist into a smile as she walks over to Draven and wraps her fingers around the back of his chair. “Glad you made it back.” She doesn’t quite clarify whom she’s speaking to.
“Trivela, take our new friend, Alex, to his quarters,” Draven tells her, his fingers seeking the cigar from the ashtray.
Her smile widens. “It’d be my pleasure.” She walks over to the door and waits for me to follow.
I push back from my chair, my gaze fixed on Draven. “It’ll never work. I’ll never turn into you.”
“You will eventually. Eventually, everyone gets tired of fighting.” He places the cigar on his lips and smoke surrounds his face. “A deal’s a deal, Alex. And, you never know, you may start enjoying being evil.” He removes the cigar from his mouth. “Maybe you won’t even want to go back to your old life.”
“Oh, I will,” I assure him and then drop my voice to a threatening tone as I place my hands on the table and lean over. “And when I do, I’m going to come back and kill you.”
With that, I follow the Banshee out of the room, knowing I’ll probably pay for my exiting line, but not caring because, at the moment, things couldn’t get any worse.
The Banshee takes me to a dark corridor that leads to a small room with a single bed, a chipped dresser, and a small bookshelf. She stops in the doorway and watches me as I walk around the room, shaking my head at everything.
“If you need anything,” she flashes a smile at me, “and I mean anything, please, please, ask me.” Grinning at herself, she turns around and leaves me alone.
I sink down on the bed and drop my head into my hands. I’m here for a year. A year. Away from the world, from life—from Gemma. What’s worse is that I can still feel her, how sad she is. If I close my eyes, I can almost picture her lying on her bed, crying. We’re going to be apart for a year. A year.
And if Draven teaches me to be like him, and forces me to start taking Souls, then what? In a year, I won’t even exist. I’ll wind up a hollow shell, full of death and darkness.
I may as well be dead.
Chapter 21
Gemma
I’m lying on the bed, my face buried in a pillow. Laylen carried me up to my room after Alex