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“Maybe I can just disappear for a while,” she says. “And he’ll give up.”

I settle the ladder down in the dirt. This patch of sideboard isn’t in as bad a shape as the others.

“Give me the hammer,” I say.

She hands it to me. “What? Don’t like that idea?”

“You know him better than me.” I use the clawed end of the hammer to scrape away the rot, half-imagining that I’m digging out the brains of Edie’s ex instead of old wood. “Do you think he’ll give up?”

Her silence tells me everything I need to know. Edie’s explained a little about her ex, and I’ll say one thing about the piece of shit—he sounds focused. Determined.

“Shit,” she says softly.

I cover up the hole in the wood with a piece of plywood, Edie handing me the nails one by one, and then hop off the ladder and cart it around the side of the church while Edie follows with the little wagon of plywood and hardware supplies. But then I immediately stop short. It’s been long enough and enough has happened that I’d forgotten about Jaxon’s handiwork from a few weeks ago. I never painted over it, and its spidery, crawling lines are emblazoned across the grimy walls. That stupid fucking sigil. The thing looks demonic at the best of times, and seeing it on the side of the church is almost embarrassing, how cliched it is.

“Whatisthat?” Edie squints up at it. “Did you do that?”

This isreallygoddamn embarrassing.

“No.” I plant the ladder down. “Jaxondid it. Him and Ambrose visited me right after I woke up. It’s a symbol of one of his gods.”

Edie frowns. I don’t tell her Jaxon’s theory, about those gods drawing us together.

“I want to paint over it,” I say quickly. “It’s just not as much of a priority as patching up the sideboards.”

“I could do that for you,” she says brightly. “I can’t do much, but I can paint.”

“You can do plenty.”

Edie rolls her eyes, spins the hammer around. “Let’s be real. I’m a glorified toolbox.”

“Not true,” I say. “You’re much prettier.”

She blinks like she’s taken by surprise. I love doing that to her, especially when her cheeks turn all pink like they’re doing now.

“Speaking of which,” I say. “I’ll take that hammer again, please.”

She hands it to me, but I can tell by her frown she’s going to suggest something I don’t like.

“I could run into town for you. There’s that hardware store on Main Street. If I drive, it won’t take me long.”

I sigh and turn toward the window. “It ain’t safe. You’ve got people looking for you, Edie.”

“Yeah,” she says. “At the cabin. I haven’t checked out. As far as they know, I’m still staying there.”

I pause, looking at my reflection in the window’s glass. She has a point.

“Please?” she says. “I’ve spent the last few weeks just doing nothing. Let me be useful.”

I twist around to look at her, her eyes big and pleading. “Besides,” she says. “I don’t want to look suspicious. It would be weird if I don’t go into town, and?—”

“Stop worrying about cops. They’re fucking idiots, and I know what I’m doing.”

She rolls her eyes again. It’s cute, not that I’m gonna tell her that.

“If I get in my car right now, are you really going to stop me?”

Her question thrums through me. My first inclination is to tell her yes, absolutely. She’s my perfect prey, and I’d truss her up and lock her in the church’s basement if I thought it would keep her safe. And while the idea does make my cock stir, I know damn well I’m not going to do it. I ain’t that kind of killer, first of all, and second of all, I want to make her happy.