I grinned weakly. "Yours, then, are they?"
Great. More Gallery weirdoes to contend with. But my mind stumbled, lost in the fog. By deploying Sentinels, he was dropping his own gang in the shit. Making them feel betrayed and indignant. What was his game? He was manipulating me, I knew that much for sure. But to what end?
Vincent quirked one neat bronze brow. "I'm offended you'd think so. The building was still standing, last I noticed. Wasting such lovely tricks, just to re-home an overpriced rock? And blue dreadlocks? Must be taking style tips from your glimmery puppy dog." He laughed, a starlit ripple of wrongness. "I assure you, Verity, that girl's no child of mine."
Sickly, I envied him his certainty. The way he knew without a flicker of doubt what was important. I envied him a lot of things, I guess. I could admit that now. Once, I too had worn that unshakeable confidence. The simple way: just jettison your conscience. No more dilemmas. No more problem.
But those days were gone. I was cured now. I hated the Verity I'd been with him… but I hated it more that in the dark before dawn, when I lay restless and sweating in my cold ex-lunatic's cell, I still burned for what he'd meant to me.
I shivered, hugging myself. "Look, it's nice to see you and all, but I really have to—"
"The girl calls herself 'Sophron'." He studied his perfect nails. "The boy goes by 'Flash'. You saw some of what they can do. From the way they work together, I'd say they're old friends." A twist of sarcasm. Like he could possibly understand what old friend meant. "That's enough, I think. It's no fun if I give you all the answers."
Which didn't mean he knew anything. Didn't mean he didn't, either. "Sophron," I mused, intrigued in spite of myself. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They'll make troublesome enemies, firebird. Dare I suggest caution?"
I snorted, pleased to have caught him in error. "Now why would you use a stupid word like 'caution'? Going soft?"
Fire kindled in his gaze. I didn't see him move, but somehow he was closer, too close, his strange possessive heat mercilessly invading my space and conquering it. Involuntarily, I gasped, and his mint-fire flavor tingled my tongue, sparkling all the way down inside me and resurrecting memories that were better off buried.
"I knew it," he whispered on a smile. "Look me in the eye and make me believe you've changed. I dare you."
Fuck. It wasn't an error. It was bait. And I'd swallowed it whole.
This was what he'd wanted, the reason he'd lured me here. I wanted to punch him and scream get away from me! I wanted to fight, to unleash on him, jeez, what a futile effort that'd be. I'd no defense against him, and he knew it. Fucking damn him.
"Come back to me." Insistent, dark with command. "Tonight. Now. Forget this charade."
"No." A whisper, all the denial I could muster. "I can't."
"You must. You know you belong to me."
"You're wrong, okay? I don't belong to anyone." My sanity stretched thin, a sheet of rubber yanked too tight. Hit him. Kiss him. Kiss him, then hit him. What I couldn't do was back away… because I was too afraid of what he might say.
Even after everything that had happened, I was still terrified he'd think me a coward. That I was a coward, for rejecting him. For rejecting us. And that frightened me most of all.
"I understand that you're scared. I actually thought I was, too, at first." A besotted smile, almost bashful. "Me, afraid. Can you imagine that?"
Actually, I couldn't, but I wasn't about to let him know that. His unshakeable belief in every insane word he uttered made me cringe. But it melted me, too, deep inside, where I'd locked everything delicious and forbidden I'd felt for him into a rusted little box marked DO NOT OPEN.
See, one thing villains always have over the rest of us is the freedom to follow their convictions. Presuming, of course, that those convictions aren't very nice. For Vincent, emotion—like everything else—is about power, and he exerts it ruthlessly. He offers you every dark and despicable thing you've ever secretly longed for, and watches while you struggle to resist.
I knew all that. And still I couldn't say no.
"The way you've gotten to me, Verity, it's… well, it's maddening, really. But we have to face it. We can use it to make us stronger. You can't hide from me forever."
Couldn't I, just? "No, it's over. We're over. I have a different life now. I have friends to look out for me." My lips stung. I couldn't stop staring at his mouth. God, I wanted so badly to kiss him. Just once. Just one more time…
"Your 'friends' despise you. Not the same thing." He drifted close enough to touch—close enough for those impossible flames of his to wrap our fingers together as one. I held my breath, dying for that explosive heat, the revelation of his body against mine. Almost. Not quite. Goddamn it.
"Come back to me, firebird," he whispered. "You know you want to."
My pulse stumbled. I scrambled for a rational response, when all I wanted to do was roll over and surrender. Whisper his name, let him do whatever he pleased with me. I will keep cool. I won't lose control. I won't…
"Vincent, listen," I insisted, shaking. Good start. But what the hell could I say? How do you crack unbreakable conviction like his? "This is all a mistake. Whatever you think there is between us…"
"Whatever I think?" His eyes flashed a dangerous gold, and his grip tightened on my wrist, a bright edge of malice. "Shall I show you? Must we cover those lessons again? You know what happens when you disappoint me."
Oh, God, did I.
I trembled, lost. What was I thinking? Reasoning with him was pointless. The magnetism between us was beyond thought, beyond common sense. Oldest story in the book.
I'd loved him. And in his warped way, he'd loved me. How could anyone reason with that?
I felt him laugh, a frisson of unhinged delight at the game. His whisper scorched my earlobe, challenging. "Oh, this is precious. Do you surrender? Or must I subdue you all over again?"
I shuddered, and fled.
He didn't follow. Just let me run.
The fog swallowed me, cold and heartless. I didn't stop until I'd passed the end of the bridge, where the fishing pier's lights struggled through curling mist, and sprinted across the freeway into the park.
I collapsed, panting, against a tree trunk. My heartbeat galloped. My skin itched all over, like deathworms wriggled in my living flesh, and I doubled over and spewed my non-existent dinner into the dirt.
My eyes poured and I choked on burning bile. What the hell had I expected? He was merciless, insidious, every move a cunning gambit to kill me or trap me or make me do something I dreaded, all just to prove he was superior. To prove he still owned me.
I knew that was how he operated. So why had I agreed to meet him? Why didn't I just delete his damn text and go to bed like a normal person?
But I already knew the answer.
We'd been lovers, sure, and that part was incredible. Unprecedented. I could admit that. Still, I'm not a slave to that kind of lust. Sex is great, but it's just sex.
But all the common sense in the world didn't change the awful truth that I'd liked how he'd made me feel. Giddy, alive, free from crippling self-doubt and eager to take on the world. Loving Vincent had made me happy.
I wiped my acid-ripped mouth. I already had a splitting headache, like I'd cracked a machete through my skull, levering the bones apart to let all those black and ugly secrets ooze out. Now my guts hurt, too. I wanted to crawl into a hole, pull dirt over my head and sleep forever.