Page 101 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“Aye. I have my own place. It’s beautiful. It’s also hours away fromanyone.”

“You need that!” Nat protested. “You need to be away from people during one of your… spells.” Niamh and Jory both winced. But Nat pressed on. “Someone could ask too many questions! Or call the cops!”

“But I won’t need to be isolated anymore because I won’t be having spells anymore because you’re going to follow through on your end of the bargain. Right?”

“Niamh, you?—”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you or did you not promise me on my mother’s grave to turn me into a vampire to break my curse?”

“Ni—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Nathaniel. Did you or did you not make that bargain with me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. Yes? Or no?”

Nat looked at Callum. “Tell her, Callum. Tell her that she’d be trading one curse for another,” he pleaded. “Tell her!”

But Callum shook his head and stood slowly, stepping away from the island before turning on his socked heel and disappearing into the broom closet without a word or a backwards glance. He did the same that last time there was a discussion of Jory leaving. She knew that for Callum, there were only two choices—fight or flight. He wouldn’t fight her. He would fightforher, she knew, until the bitter end. But he would never fighther. If she wanted to leave, he would not stand in her way. He would serve his penance. And so he retreated.

Nat flew to his feet, knocking over his empty wine glass, a few remaining drops of elk blood splashing onto the table. He righted the glass carefully, his movements almost exaggerated in their slowness. Jory closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, she leveled another glare at Magda.

“Yes or no, Nat?” Niamh asked quietly.

“We’ll talk about this at home, Niamh.”

“No, we’re talking about it now. I’ve waited weeks. I asked you a question. I deserve an answer.”

Nat paced away from her to the door before spinning quickly and stalking back to the table.

“No, Niamh. Okay? No. I can’t do it. I can’t do that to you. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t watch it happen. I can’tmakeit happen.”

“But you’re fine to watch me suffer like this.”

“Niamh,” Nat said, falling to his knees before her chair. He collected both of her hands in his, holding her knuckles to his lips. “You don’t understand what it’s like. What it can make you do at first. You… Please. Please don’t ask that of me.”

“Okay,” Niamh replied, pulling her hands away and standing. “I won’t.”

She walked to the coat rack and slid into her black wool coat. “I’m so sorry to dash like this, Jory. But I’ve got some packing to do. Thank you for dinner, Magda. It was delicious.”

Nat rushed after her, shouting her name. The door slammed behind him, leaving behind a room that was utterly silent except for Walter’s gentle snoring.

“What the actual fuck was that, Magda?” Jory said wearily, her anger a snarling, lunging thing barely kept in check. “You had no right.”

Magda sipped her wine. “Things needed to move forward,” she answered cryptically.

“And it’s your job to move them?” Jory snapped.

“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Magda said with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re just meddling! You’re meddling because you’re bored and using fate or whatever you’re calling it this week as an excuse to justify it!”

“Tell me something, Marjory,” Magda said, petting Walter with a careful finger. “If I hadn’t meddled, would you be sitting in this cabin right now? Would that SUV be out in the driveway with four new tires? Would you be making the plans you are?”

Jory’s mouth dropped open.

“Or would you still be hiding in your shop and apartment, leaving town when the sadness got to be too much to manage? Only now you’d know he was alive. Would you be eaten alive by that knowledge? By the sadness and the what-ifs?”