Page 56 of Noctis

“What aren’t you going to do?” Rowan repeated.

“Take too long.”

“Caligo.”

I liked the slightly reproachful note in his voice as well. I also enjoyed being here with him and having the opportunity to help him. “I’m not going to kill him.” Rowan let out a quiet breath of relief. “I’m just going to maim him.”

“What?” He took a step backward. “We never discussed that. What do you mean?”

“Is he left-handed or right-handed?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

I smiled. “I’m just working out which arm I’m going to rip off.”

“You can’t rip his arms off.”

“Not arms. Just the one. I’ll leave him with the one he doesn’t write with.”

“No ripping off arms.”

“An eye?”

“No.”

“His penis?”

Rowan’s lips twitched. “Don’t tempt me.” He caught himself before the twitch could become a smile. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. We should go back to the hotel. I’ll think of something else that doesn’t involve a long legal battle.”

“No killing. No maiming,” I said obediently. “You can trust me.”

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

The house was deathly silent when I entered. My shift between planes left the clothes on the other side of the wall. I stretched, enjoying the feeling of freedom after being constrained in fabric for so long, then allowed my body to ripple and settle back into its natural state. Rowan had been insistent that my horns were very much required for this task. He’d explained the layout of his home to me, so I headed straight for the bedrooms. There would be time to explore later once I’d rid the house of the parasite nesting inside it.

Rowan had surmised that Tyler would still sleep in the bedroom they used to share. He’d been right, as evidenced by the human-shaped mound beneath the covers. Watching a sleeping human from the doorway felt comfortably familiar. It was something I’d done thousands of times, sometimes followed by revealing myself to them, while at other times I’d simply moved on.

I tried to remember ever feeling such intense dislike for a human and came up blank. Tyler had hurt Rowan, and therefore, he’d hurt me. It was a simple equation with only one answer. Now it was time for him to pay for that. Rowan might have set constraints, but there was still some fun to be had within them. And that fun started now.

“Tyler?” The first utterance of his name was soft, barely a breath on the wind. It was enough for him to stir. Rowan had said he was a light sleeper.

“Tyler.” The next repetition carried more weight, enough to make him sit bolt upright in bed. “Who said that?”

I stayed silent. I’d also slipped between planes, so when his gaze searched every corner of the dim room, there was nothing to see. A classic game of me being able to see him while he couldn’t see me. I waited him out—waited until he’d decided it was nothing but a figment of his imagination, a trick of the brain halfway between sleep and wakefulness—before saying his name again.

This time he reached for the lamp, a slight tremor in his hand as he flicked the switch, bathing the room in light. Of course, there was nothing to see. I started a dialogue with him in my head.

Are you scared, Tyler? I have some bad news for you, I’m afraid. Want to hear it? The bad news is that I’m only just getting started. We’re going to spend some time together, you and I. Some quality time, you might say. Enough time for you to reflect on your recent actions and realize that they have consequences. Rowan didn’t deserve what you did to him. Not the cheating. Not your attempt to steal a house that belongs to him. And not you dumping him in rehab so you wouldn’t have to deal with his grief. Although I suppose if you hadn’t done that, I would never have met him. But I’m not going to thank you for it. Your heart is beating very fast. Do you know that? How high do you think your heart rate can go before it gives up? That wouldn’t count as me killing you. Not deliberately, anyway. I considered the loophole before deciding that Rowan would probably still regard it as a deliberate act. Shame.

Tyler let out a long breath and then laughed. “I’m losing it.” He switched the lamp off again, but remained upright, staring into the darkness. I waited for him to close his eyes before moving forward and taking up a position at the end of the bed. Once his heart rate returned to normal, I tore the covers off the bed, grabbed him by the ankle, and yanked him onto the floor in a single, effortless movement.

He landed heavily. There was a moment of stunned silence before he scrambled to his feet. He backed against the wall, breathing hard, presumably having reasoned that there was at least one direction from which an attack couldn’t come. “Who are you? What do you want?”

I remained silent and invisible. Rowan’s plan involved me revealing myself immediately, but where was the fun in that? Where was the creativity? The whimsy? No, this was far more enjoyable. I stalked closer without making a sound. Then, with careful deliberation, I let him hear me breathe, exaggerating the sound for effect.

His reaction was instantaneous. He peeled himself off the wall and sprinted for the bathroom. I laughed, letting him hear that too, pleased by how maniacal I made it sound. The lock slid into place seconds later. I took my time following him, letting his runaway imagination do most of the heavy lifting. What did he think I was? A poltergeist? A vengeful spirit? He had no idea. Their powers were limited because they were dead. I wasn’t. I was very much alive.