“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big, dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”
He held out his hand, and I stepped into his arms.
I cupped the back of his neck, feeling the silken brush of his hair on my fingertips. I knew Mal was watching. I needed him to turn away. I needed him to go. I tilted my face up to the Darkling’s.
Our lips met, and the connection between us opened. This was not the way he’d touched me in my visions, when he’d come to me as shadow.
Power flowed through me—the power of the stag, its strong heart beating in both our bodies […]
I’d sensed it when the Hummingbird entered the Unsea, but I’d been too afraid to embrace it. This time, I didn’t fight.
There was darkness inside me. He had put it there, and I would no longer deny it.
And he was my monster, too.
“My power is yours,” I repeated. His arms tightened around me. “And yours is mine,” I whispered against his lips.
Mine. The word reverberated through me, through both of us.
Mine.
I forced my way across the bond forged by Morozova’s collar and grabbed hold of the Darkling’s power.
Darkness spilled from him, black ink from his palms, billowing and skittering, blooming […]
The Darkling tried to pull away from me, but I clutched him tighter […]
Another creature burst forth, and then another. The Darkling cried out as it was wrenched from him.
The Darkling moaned, and so did I. We fell against each other, but still I did not relent.
The Darkling’s legs buckled, and we collapsed to our knees.
Thinking about it, the Mystery Twins are those dumb people that walk towards the creepy sound at night on a horror movie, except they actually survive.
As we left the glen, I felt the reality of what had just happened sink into me.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m not used to people trying to kill me.”
“Really? I hardly notice anymore.”
I turned to look at him. That trace of a smile was still there, but I wasn’t entirely sure he was kidding. I turned back around and said, “And I did just see a man get sliced in half.” I kept my voice light, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was still trembling.
The Darkling switched his reins to one hand and pulled off one of his gloves. I stiffened as I felt him slide his bare palm under my hair and rest it on the nape of my neck. My surprise gave way to calm as that same sense of power and surety flooded through me. With one hand cupping my head, he kicked the horse into a canter. I closed my eyes and tried not to think, and soon, despite the movement of the horse, despite the terrors of the day, I fell into a troubled sleep.