A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(100)

I grimaced, my stomach suddenly churning. “Can you sense who did it? Like with the butler’s body?”

He straightened. “No. There is no soul left. Not a drop of spiritual energy, and without that, I cannot tell you anything.”

“What magic is darker than necromancy?” Joseph asked—or tried to ask, but his voice was barely audible. He wilted back in the armchair.

“We can worry about it later.” Daniel knelt beside Joseph’s chair. “You’re losin’ blood too fast.”

“We should clean the wound,” I added. “Before it festers. There must be alcohol in the—” I broke off as Oliver thrust his flask into Daniel’s hand.

“Vodka. It’ll sting like hell, but it’ll clean.” Then he strode to the window, ripped down one of the scarlet curtains in a single move, and threw it over the Marquis’s body.

I gaped at him, surprised.

Oliver scowled. “It’s disgusting. Scares me—not that you care.”

“What do you mean I do not care?”

But he didn’t respond. He had already pivoted toward the door and marched off.

“Where are you going?” I called, hurrying after.

“To find a cab.”

“Are you upset with me?” I knew the answer. I had felt his fury in the wine cellar, yet I had hoped it might have dulled some. “Please, Ollie. Wait. I do care. I’m sorry for what happened in the basement.”

He skittered to a halt, his body tensing. “Not sorry enough, El. Do you have any idea what you did to me? Blasting me with that electricity?”

“It was the only way!” I reached his side, clasping at his sleeve. “We needed all of our magic—”

“That wasn’t magic,” he spat. “It was filthy. Unnatural—”

“And strong!” I clutched my hands to my chest. “You saw how many Dead Joseph stopped. We can’t do that with our spells.”

“No, perhaps not, but at least my spells won’t kill me.”

I flinched. “Kill you? What do you mean?”

“I told you electricity would kill me slowly—”

“I thought you were being dramatic.”

He gave a scathing laugh. “Being dramatic? Thank you, El. Thank you very much for seeing me as nothing more than a jester.” He pushed up his chin. “Electricity kills demons. It blasts away their soul like the Hell Hounds, but instead of all at once, it’s bit by bit. I hope you got a good look at what happened to that Marquis, because that is exactly what you did to me. You”—he jabbed his finger into my shoulder, pushing me back a step—“just withered away part of my soul. Part of my very being.

And for what?”

“T-to stop the Dead—”

“I didn’t want to stop those Dead in the first place. We had time to get away—to leave.”

“But then the Dead would have overrun Paris!”

“So?” he snapped. “That was not my problem, Eleanor. It was your problem, and then you made it mine.” He leaned into me, his face scored with rage and pain. “You gave me no choice. You betrayed my trust.”

“I-I’m sorry.” I cowered back. “I truly am, Ollie. Please . . . what can I do to make it up to you?”

“Free me. Free me and get the hell away from me.”

“I-I do not know how—”

“Because you’re not training!” His roar blasted over me, and I shrank back farther. “You’re running around Paris with everyone but me! You seem more upset about that damned Marquis’s death than you do about hurting me. I really am nothing more than your tool!”

“I’ll start studying—I promise.”

“You’re bloody right you will, but don’t think it will be enough for me to forgive you.”

“Empress?” Daniel stepped into the hall, his hands in fists. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Nothing,” Oliver snapped. And without another word, he went through the front doorway and stormed into the night.

Daniel looked at me, clearly expecting an explanation.

But I couldn’t speak. Guilt and shame coiled inside me. Only the blackest magic in the world could drain a person’s soul, yet I had done exactly the same thing with electricity. I had killed a part of

Oliver.

For several minutes, all I could do was stare silently at Daniel—and somehow he understood that staring was all I was capable of, for he did not speak. He simply waited for me to return to the moment.

And as time ticked past and the world slowly cleared before me, I began to see Daniel. To see how his lanky body slouched with his weight on one foot. How his face was streaked with dirt and sweat.

How his hair was dusted white and poking up in all directions. How his chest moved beneath his shirt —a shirt that used to be white but was now mottled gray. . . .

And above all, how beautiful he was—not just on the outside but on the inside as well. He knew me; he understood.

My mouth went dry. I took a step toward him. “Thank you.”

His brow creased. “For what?”

“For . . .” Two more steps, and I was in front of him. “For still caring, despite everything.”

“Caring? I didn’t do anything. I heard shouting from the other room and—”