20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I slept restlessly and woke up feeling hot and sticky and… embarrassed?

No, that wasn't quite right. Or maybe it was and there was embarrassment there, but it was also a little more complex than that. I was selfishly glad that Verner wasn't in his corporeal form so we didn't have to talk about what I'd done last night. But I didn't regret that it had happened. A tiny fissure had formed in the wall I'd had up when he'd fed from me in the in-between, but getting myself off in front of him—for no reason other than I wanted to—had been like taking a sledgehammer to it.

There was no going back now. There was no "just friends" after that. The problem was, what were we if we weren't just friends? I wasn't built like the other ex-Hunters. I wasn't romantic. I didn't know how to open up and be vulnerable and trust.

Verner deserved everything. All of someone. He had so much to give in return. Could I be that for him when my brain kept fighting me at every turn?

Could I fight back?

I blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes, startling when I realized Verner wasn't in the room with me. Throwing the sheets off the bed, I sprinted for the bathroom, still naked, just catching myself in time before I turned the lights on.

"There you are," I breathed, clutching my chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how much light would filter through the blinds."

Verner reached out, touching my cheek in a reassuring gesture.

"This is so less than ideal," I murmured, hating that he was stuck in this dark, horrible bathroom. "Is it worth me pointing out again that you can go home? Because you can. This is awful for you."

Verner slowly and deliberately shook his head. After a second's pause, he ran a shadowy finger along my jaw, before dragging it down my neck. And then lower. I shivered at the phantom feel of his touch on my sternum, before his movement came to a stop just above my bellybutton. My usual self-consciousness about my stomach was nowhere to be found, not when I could feel how much Verner wanted me.

"I'm going to shower," I mumbled, face heating as I realized how sticky I was between the legs. Even if I wasn't, I'd be showering again, trying not to think about the kinds of sheets I'd been sleeping naked on last night.

There was nowhere for Verner to go, so he hung around as the shower sputtered reluctantly to life and I waited for the water to work its way up to lukewarm. While I couldn't see his eyes—just the hood—it seemed like he was watching with interest, probably curious about how things worked in the human realm. This late- eighties motel room definitely wasn't the finest example of new technology.

My stomach complained loudly as I finished washing and drying myself, and I shot Verner a guilty look. "I might have to venture out to get food."

He didn't shake his head, but he didn't nod supportively or touch my face either. It was a necessary evil, and we both knew it.

"I'll be as fast as I can," I promised, heading back into the bedroom to pull on my clothes from yesterday. The sweatshirt still wasn't dry, so I reluctantly put Harlow's tight jacket on top, catching my reflection in the mirror above the small table as I did so.

I looked tired, and my messy bun was more like a bird's nest, but other than that…

Honestly, I looked pretty good. I couldn't remember the last time I looked in a mirror on purpose, but I was certain that the person looking back at me now wasn't the same as the person who'd looked back at me then.

This woman had life in her eyes. She had resolve. Her chin wasn't tucked down, but lifted and proud. She looked like she unapologetically took up space around her like it was hers to take.

She also looked like she'd had several orgasms in the past twenty-four hours, and was intending to have several more.

I liked the woman I saw in my reflection.

I was going to keep her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I called to Verner, shoving my feet into my shoes and heading out the door, locking it behind me and making a beeline for the van. I didn't intend on going far, but this area definitely didn't encourage walking. It made me miss the shadow realm even more, where I wandered through peaceful gardens to get wherever I needed to go.

There was a gas station not too far away, and I headed in that direction, intending to fill up the van so I could drive back to Harlow's tonight after my meeting with Adela. I'd stock up on enough gas station snacks to last me the day, and beg Astrid to find a way to reimburse Harlow at some point in the future when Astrid had forgiven me.

If Astrid forgave, I corrected uneasily.

If anyone could hold a grudge, it was Astrid. There was no telling how she'd react to what I'd done, and if she'd be able to forgive the fact that I'd gone behind her back.

I headed back to the fueled-up van with a bag of processed snacks that I was certain would make me feel sick later, freezing when I found Latika standing in front of the driver's door with her arms crossed.

Unlike yesterday, she was more determined and less startled. This time, I was the one on the back foot.

"How did you find me?" I asked, glancing around the empty gas station. I wasn't going to find any help here.

"I know this van," Latika replied, narrowing her eyes. "I recognized it when I followed you out last night. The Council would be very interested in knowing what kind of company Harlow Miles keeps."

Shit .

"I stole it. Harlow doesn't know anything about it. What do you want? Did you not say everything you needed to say yesterday? Are you here to remind me again that I'm ruined?"

Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn she blushed.

"No." Latika cleared her throat. "I should report you. You're on the Council's list."

"I thought they were trying to make peace these days."

"You still have to answer for yourself, Meera. You can't just leave the entire realm and swan off with the enemy. There are consequences."

I burst out laughing—I couldn't help myself. "Latika, I don't answer to the Hunters Council. I was banished, remember? They can demand whatever they like, it's got nothing to do with me."

She frowned as though the idea had never occurred to her before. "You can't just ignore the Council, Meera. They're… they're everything."

Finally, finally , I saw traces of the twelve-year-old sister I'd left behind. The one who never asked questions, who trusted me implicitly to take care of everything and who assumed that everything in the world was the way it was meant to be.

"What exactly do you think happened to me when I was banished, Latika?"

She fidgeted uneasily. "I don't know. I guess I assumed that you were sent to live with other banished Hunters, and they gave you some kind of menial, crap job in the organization where no one would ever see you, instead of paying for college. Like Kathy," she added dismissively.

Kathy had been an elderly widow, who'd been given a very similar setup to what Latika was describing once her husband had died. No one had even tried to hide their whispers about what a burden to the organization she was. It was probably a similar existence to what those ex-Hunters living in Elverston House had experienced during their time in the Hunters. Not good enough to be considered valuable, but cooperative enough to keep around to do the drudge work that no one else wanted to do.

"That's not what banished means, Latika. Banished means cut off—no financial support, no housing, no contact. Nothing. Being a Hunter is deeply damaging to your sense of empathy, I get that, but please try to envision the person you were at seventeen and try to imagine what that's like. Also, Kathy had given and given and given to the Hunters for her entire life—the way they treated her wasn't acceptable either. Your sense of what's normal—of what constitutes good and bad—is so warped, Latika."

It was the first time I'd really thought of the Hunters as a cult , because that's what it was, wasn't it? Latika wasn't just naive, she was brainwashed. She saw the Council as the be all and end all. The hand that giveth and the hand that taketh away.

The little wobbles of doubt that kept sneaking up on me, reminding me that Astrid was going to be mad or that I was going to make life difficult for people, were steadied by Latika's delusions.

Peaceful negotiations weren't going to cut it. We needed a shakeup.

"Report me if you want." I shrugged. "It won't change anything."

"You could come back," Latika whispered. "You could ask them for forgiveness. Isn't that what you want, Meera? Don't you miss me? And Mom?"

"I have always missed you, Latika. And I'm confident that one day, we'll find each other again, and the circumstances will be different. I'm choosing to believe in a future where that's possible. And I miss the idea of having a mother who loved me and nurtured me and wanted what was best for me, but that's not the mother I had. So no, I don't miss her. I don't want anyone's forgiveness. I want them to beg for mine."

I sidestepped her and climbed into the van, setting the bag of snacks on the passenger seat and getting out of there as quickly as I could.

For once, I didn't feel like I was running from something, though. I was running to something. To vengeance. To justice. To a cleansing by fire, and a new world beyond.

Verner hovered in the darkest corner of the room as night fell, only one light on the nightstand on for Adela's benefit as I waited for her to arrive. Between the nerves and the snacks, I'd been on the verge of throwing up for the past hour.

I stood at the window, obsessively peering out at the parking lot through the blinds, on the lookout for a car that would definitely look too nice to be here.

"It's going to be fine," I repeated under my breath, somewhat for Verner's benefit, but mostly for mine as a sleek, navy vehicle pulled into the lot. "This is fine. No going back now. I'm not worried."

I turned to face Verner, giving him a firm nod that he mirrored back to me, before I headed over to unlock the door, ushering Adela in.

She looked rightfully wary as she peered around the room, her human eyes skipping over Verner entirely. If she got too close to him, she'd definitely be able to feel his presence, though. The hairs on the back of her neck would raise, and she'd be overwhelmed by a general sensation of something being not quite right.

It was a handy tool to have on my side if I needed to make a quick escape.

"So, Meera," Adela began with a tight smile, taking a seat kitty-corner to me at the small table. "You've got a real talent for disappearing."

I opened my mouth, trying to come up with an explanation for my absence before closing it again. On reflection, I probably should have come up with an excuse before she'd gotten here, but it didn't really occur to me that she'd ask.

Adela sighed. "Look, I understand that I probably spooked you. This isn't my first rodeo—I get that you want to just leave this part of your life in the past, but it's still affecting you to this day. Financially, if nothing else. You're paying for his crimes. Imagine how good it's going to feel to get that burden off your shoulders."

"I'm more interested in him finally seeing justice for the things he's done," I admitted.

Adela crooked a smile. "Yeah? Maybe I approached this all wrong. What I should have been saying is imagine how good it'll feel when we nail this fucker to the wall."

I let out a laugh of surprise, some of my nerves abating. "I wasn't ready to hear that then, but I am now. Provided what I have is going to be of any use, I guess."

The shoebox was already sitting there on the table with my notebook of recollections on top, and I slid the whole thing across to Adela. I'm sure there'd be something valuable in there that Adela could use to build her case, but I didn't know if it would be enough to build a whole case on. It was several years old at this point—Jackman's operation had probably changed significantly in that time.

Of course, it was too much to ask that Adela merely collect all the things I'd given her and be on her merry way so I could go home. Instead, she leafed through the notebook for a moment before carefully lifting the lid of the nearly decade-old shoebox to examine the documents inside.

I sat there in awkward silence as she held them up to the light, leafing through the stack and occasionally glancing over at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

"How on earth did you get hold of the bank statements?" she murmured.

I shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't want to say I was entrusted with a lot of stuff, because that's not quite right. It's more like… he saw me as too small and stupid to be a threat. Sometimes, I'm not sure he saw me as a person at all. Just another object in his collection."

The pitying look Adela shot me made me wish I'd never said any of that. The exhaustion was clearly getting to me if I was spilling my guts to strangers like this. I wanted to go home. Home home. Shadow realm home.

"This is a gold mine, Meera."

"Good. I don't mean to be rude, but you have my number and I'd really like to get out of this grimy motel."

"Of course," Adela agreed, putting everything back inside the box with the notebook on top. "I do have your number. Though, I get the feeling you're going to disappear again."

"If you contact this phone, I'll make sure the message gets to me," I assured her, wondering if I could bribe Harlow with fresh vegetables since I had nothing else to barter with. "Good luck with the case."

Adela tapped her nails on the box and smiled. I imagined it was the kind of smile that lawyers who were described as sharks had. "I don't need luck anymore. I've got this."