Page 145 of Evermore

“You think?” he asked, pulling a deck of cards from his pocket.

“In her defense, before the city here fell to ruins, everyone was immortal for a hundred years. It’s a new concept to her that anyone off the street can murder.”

“That isnota defense,” Archer said, turning to me. “Tell her that’s not a defense.”

I opened my mouth to argue but he threw up a hand. “No. Nevermind. I can already tell you’re afraid to argue with naked Paesha.”

“Hey, I’m fully clothed,” she bit back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Archer smirked. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you now. I’d bet you a broken carriage, you’re absolutely naked in his brain.”

“Fuck all the way off, Archer Bramwell,” she said, throwing her book at his head.

46

Paesha

Fucking stairs.

I’d never given much thought to how many stairs it would take to reach the underbelly of Requiem, but the answer was approximately one thousand too many. The damp, twisting staircase wound beneath the Dancing Ghost tavern like the world’s most ambitious corkscrew. By the thirtieth step, I was fine. But I’m pretty sure by the hundredth, I was contemplating murder. By the time we reached whatever number we were at now, I’d mentally composed a strongly worded letter to whoever designed this architectural nightmare. Which was Thea. She’d hate it, but Thorne would have appreciated my letter. He always got that little crinkle near his eyes when I went on a particularly colorful rant. The thought of his smile made the trek marginally more bearable. Marginally.

“Are we there yet?” I asked for the fifth time, just to watch Thea’s shoulders tense. What are friends for, if not mild irritation?

“Yes, Paesha,” she answered without turning around. “We’re here now. That’s why we’re still walking down these stairs.”

“Your sarcasm wounds me.”

Ahead of us, Quill giggled, the sound echoing against the stone walls as she hopped down the metal steps two at a time with Boo yipping at her heels. How a child and a tiny dog with legs the length of my thumb had more energy than me was a cosmic injustice.

“Watch your step,” Minerva cautioned from behind me, her cane tapping a steady rhythm. The old woman hadn’t complained once despite having to navigate these stairs with her supposed bad hip. Meanwhile, I’d mentally cataloged seventeen creative expletives to describe my discomfort. If ever we didn’t want the gods gallivanting through the underground, the stairs of doom would dissuade them.

“Too bad Archer isn’t here to knit me a sweater,” I muttered. “By the time we reach the bottom, he could have made enough for your whole city.”

“You know, the first time I came down here, I slipped and fell,” Thea called back, tossing the comment over her shoulder like it wasn’t terrifying. “I had to craft myself a splint out of scrap metal, but I survived, and so will you.”

I grabbed the wall. “That’s not reassuring.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” she replied cheerfully.

Liar.

The staircase finally,finally,opened into a narrow passage that smelled of earth and torch smoke. Thea held up a hand, stopping us at a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. “A few ground rules. Don’t mention the gods unless someone else brings them up first. Don’t stare at anyone’s injuries, some of them escaped Aeris’s ‘improvements’ with scars to show for it. We had no idea the destruction she caused under the guise of renewal. She never even moved the people. Just changed everything. Oh, and for the love of all that’s holy, Paesha, try not to let the Remnants do their creepy shadow thing.”

I leveled a glare at her. “I have the Remnants under control. It’s the voices in my head that need help.” I hadn’t mentioned to anyone I was starting to feel a separation from the two. The Remnants had melded to my command, but the past lives had not at all. And they’d begun materializing more and more. Winter always led the pack, but most of my days were haunted by other women. All dead, injuries showing, blood dripping down their bodies. Mismatched eyes haunted. Some spoke. Most did not. And only one was safe. Only one.

As if summoned, three of them came into view. I never minded until they got too close to Archer or Quill. Then I couldn’t help the nausea. The racing heart. The overwhelming guilt that I couldn’t save them from my mind.

This one will be the end of you, Paesha darling. You must see that.

“Behave,” I hissed at her before Thea could notice.

Quill moved to my side, her brows pulled together. “Why do you talk to your shadows sometimes? I’ve seen you whispering to them when you think no one’s looking.”

I froze. I had no idea what to say. How to feel. But Quill felt the embarrassment and immediately stepped back. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say.”

Minerva stepped in smoothly, reaching out to straighten the collar on Quill’s dress. “Some magic requires negotiation, little one. Even the strongest wielders must occasionally remind their power who’s in charge.”

“Oh. Okay.” She shrugged and spun away.