“I know it’s a lot.” Sawyer looks at me seriously. “Honestly, I get it. I get that I was an idiot and that I hurt you. And I understand why you’d want to avoid me, and Piers, and Bennett.”
I notice that he doesn’t mention Owen.
“Just a chance. Later, even. Not tonight, or tomorrow—just think about it. I miss what we had.” He looks away, shuffling his feet. “I … you mean a lot to me, Avery.”
I close my eyes and heave a deep sigh. I remember how he used to make me feel, how warm and solid he was.
A silence stretches between us. I let it sit there heavily. Finally, after a long time, I say simply, “I’ll think about it.”
When I look up at Sawyer, he’s grinning. “That’s all I ask.”
I wish it didn’t, but his happiness wakes the butterflies inside me again.
Chapter Seven
There was no demon.
I sit up groggily on Saturday morning, my limbs still stiff and sore from the hard labor in the menagerie a couple days ago. Cleaver is curled up beside me, and I reach over and scratch his years, earning a cute, tired yawn.
I glance over at Erin’s bed beside me. She’s asleep, which is unsurprising. As usual, she was unable to sleep until we made it back safely—which turned out to be well after midnight. David wouldn’t let us leave until he was certain the villagers were satisfied, which meant a lot of hours spent staring in silence at the demons on the walls.
I sit up in bed, rubbing my tired eyes. The room is brighter now, though not by much—but the library is open 24/7. All this talk of demons has reminded me of my own—in the form of Piers Dagher. I need to get started on my plan, and it starts with books.
I feed Cleaver and bring him with me to the library. Bookshelves rise up all around me as soon as I step inside. I nod at the staff working the front counter and head straight to the largest section of the library: books about monsters.
I pull down as many books as I can and settle them in stacks around me at a study table. Cleaver wags his tail as he follows me back and forth, then settles down to chew on his bone beneath the table as I sit. I’ve got a lot to research.
If I can’t hurt Piers physically, then I need to hurt him where it counts the most.
And what would hurt Piers the most? My success, of course. Nothing would destroy him like watching me rise far above him, and in turn, his father watching that rise. So I need to learn. I need to absorb every bit of information about everything that I can.
I won’t stop there, of course. But it’s a start. It’s something.
It wouldn’t hurt to take a short detour through the sections on djinns, while I’m here. I pull out a thick, dusty book called Monsters of Arabia.
Aside from defeating Piers, and more important still, I need to defeat the djinn in the phylactery. Last year, when I managed to communicate briefly with it, the djinn told me that the only way I could defeat it was by releasing it from its prison.
I’m hoping it was lying … but I quickly find a passage that makes my heart sink. It looks like the djinn was telling the truth. Inside a phylactery—or “urn” or “container”, as the book puts it—the monster is basically invulnerable.
I purse my lips. Finding a way to kill it while it’s inside a prison would be cowardly, anyway, and I’m no coward. I push the book aside and grab a different one, hoping to clear my mind of the djinn for now. I’m nowhere near strong enough to defeat it, so I really should focus elsewhere.
After a long time of reading in silence, I hear familiar whispers. Glancing up, I realize that Piers and Bennett have rounded the corner and are making their way down my row, pulling down books of their own. They freeze when they realize I’m here.
Piers looks worse for wear after our fight. He’s got bruises on his neck, a black eye, and some scrapes along his face. When I move to stand up, he takes a step back, putting himself a little behind Bennett.
Pussy.
“Don’t worry,” I say quietly. We are in a library, after all. “I just want to apologize.”
Piers glares at me in disbelief, but Bennett shuffles over so that he’s no longer guarding his friend.
“I shouldn’t have exploded on you like that,” I continue, even though every word makes me feel like I’m swallowing gravel.
Bennett looks down at Piers with a look somewhat like disapproval. Piers looks at the floor, then at me.
“I’m sorry too,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that about your parents. That was fucked up.”
It sounds so much like what Bennett said, I wonder if Bennett’s the one who told him to say it.