I play the only card I have in my hand. One I know he won’t dare question. “Samuel. He stumbled upon them during one of his rendevouz with two of The Sacred Six.”
“What do you mean he ‘stumbled upon them?’”
“He was chasing after the girls to Lost Lake. Evidently, they were going for a little late night swim, if you catch my drift. Just as the girls stripped free and jumped into the water, Sam heard noises—coming from Pan’s home.”
“And he’s sure it was sounds of—”
“Positive,” I interject. “I asked the same question when he brought it up.”
Phillipe nods pensively and reclines into his seat, draining his glass to the last drop. His eyes no longer glow, but it doesn’t take a genius to see—or palpably sense—how enraged he is. “So, he heard it, yes? But did he actually see it? How does he know it wasn’t someone else?”
“Samuel confirmed it was Tinksley. He saw her when she emerged not long after.”
Shutting his eyes, I watch as his chest expands with a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill him,” he grits.
Wrong.
“I can’t let you do that,” I counter, emptying my glass.
“Why the hell not? That’s my baby girl! He put his hands on my baby girl!”
“I understand that, but I can’t have some random slaying tainting our land, regardless if it’s him or not. There needs to be a valid reason.”
“Defilement is a valid reason!” The echo of his timber reaches out to the sea, and yet, his words…
I can’t help but chuckle. “Interesting you say that when your kind knows plenty about defilement.”
He opens his mouth to protest, fury blazing through him once more, but I lift a hand, effectively silencing him.
“As I said, I understand why you’re upset, knew you would be when I asked you to come here, but we can’t kill him. Or rather, I, in good consciousness, can’t let you kill him. If he were to mysteriously disappear, though…”
That gets his attention, enough that he reins himself in from one moment to the next. With a clearing of his throat and a hand raking back his long, pale mane, he sits back and regards me curiously. “Elaborate,” he demands.
“Same way in which he mysteriously appeared—poof, he’ll be gone.”
“How?”
“Send a message, one that ensures him you know of the atrocity he’s committed. His options are simple thereafter; either he leaves in silence and never returns, or he can stay and face the most gruesome of deaths at the hand of each faction,” I muse, mentally envisioning what something that glorious would look like.
“And how are you so sure he’ll leave?”
“If those were your choices, would you not choose your life, too?”
Phillipe eyes me steadily, no doubt confused by my proposition, before finally nodding in concession. “You’re right, I would, yes. Anyone in their right mind would. However, are you certain the council will agree to such a drastic change?”
“They don’t need to know.” I rise to my feet, what’s left of my sated appetite waning away. “If he disappears, our pesky problem is solved.
The Fae Lord follows suit, adjusting the cape of his havelock coat. “This all seems fine and dandy, and I truly appreciate you going to these lengths, but answer me this, Captain: Why are you helping me?”
A surreptitious smirk hikes up one side of my mouth. “Because Tinksley’s a good kid and that vile creature has done enough damage already. Spare her from having to stain her hands, Phillipe. From imminent heartbreak and tragic endings. Give her a chance to live.”
Peter
Blood. There’s so much of it.
Puddled at my feet.
Dripping from my hands.
Pouring from her head.
I should feel badly, should be consumed by guilt and fear. Any normal son would. But I’m not normal, and she fucking deserved it. She did this, brought this upon herself despite knowing where I stood in her mess.
Her mess that I had no choice but to take into my own hands and muddle in tenfold, all in the name of love.
But my little dove and I can’t be together if I don’t clean up after myself and get my story straight…
What am I supposed to say?
The whore is dead?
Please.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Clara! Are you there?” Belts a voice I know too well, his banging frantic and anxious.
Rising the tempo of my heart.
I hadn’t been afraid until now.
Why is he here? He wasn’t supposed to be here, no one was. Grandpa Julian is out playing Bridge. Wendy was supposed to be at the