The Demon's Half

Chapter 21

"I can't believe it's been almost three weeks, and he still hasn't contacted you," Jade huffed, straddling my back like some kind of gremlin as she pinned my wrists to the ground. Tiny but terrifying, as usual.

I twisted under her grip, but she just pressed down harder. "I mean"— she kept going as I threw my weight to the side, trying to roll her off—"I get that he can't reach you in a spirit-free zone, but still."

I hooked my leg to her chest and shoved. She tumbled off, barely catching herself before hitting the ground. She popped back up immediately, grinning like a lunatic.

"I really thought I'd catch a glimpse of that asshole while staying here." Jade tilted her head, eyes sharp as we started circling each other again. "Not gonna lie, I'm kinda disappointed."

She wasn't the only one.

No whispers in the back of my mind.
No cryptic riddles.
Not even a dream of Mia.

Just nothing.

I didn't realize how much I'd gotten used to him—to his infuriating comments, his stupidly dramatic entrances, his ability to make everything feel dangerous and exciting at the same time. One day while practicing with Jade in the backyard, I chased a snake, but Logan killed it just in case.

At first, I told myself I was relieved.

No more cruel jokes. No more dark figures appearing at the edge of my vision. No more lethal, unforgiving blue eyes. No more of that deep, electric awareness that he was always watching me.

But then the silence stretched.

I thought maybe my rosary had something to do with it. He once told me he couldn't see me when I wore it, whatever that meant. So I stopped wearing it.
Nothing.

And that's when I started feeling it—this weird, empty space inside me, like something had been cut out. Like I was missing a piece of myself I never should have lost.

That was the worst part.

Because I wasn't supposed to feel that way about him. About Oz. And I sure as hell wasn't telling anyone.

The Council was restless too. More than usual.

Elliot, in particular, looked like he was one wrong answer away from flipping the entire table. According to Jade, he wasn't exactly known for his patience, and with only eight months left to fulfill the bargain, Oz's disappearance wasn't helping.

"Yeah, well," I panted, sweat dripping down my spine. Asco. "I can't believe it's been three weeks, and I still haven't left this house because everyone outside thinks so freakishly loud." I shot Jade a look, aiming for sarcasm but probably just looking feral.

I lunged for her unguarded left side, my fist slicing through the air—but she was already ducking.

Gods be damned, she was fast.

Jade snorted, stepping back with a wild grin. Somewhere along the way, she'd become my friend. Which was weird.

I didn't do friends. Not after my mother left. Not after losing Mia. Not after realizing my father—useless as he was—had been the last person keeping me tethered to something.

But she wasn't like the rest. No one in the council were. They were fighting, they were surviving. And that was the difference. Because as selfish as it was, watching other people live their happy, easy lives only reminded me of what I didn't have. What I'd never have again.

Casual friends felt pointless—like forcing a puzzle piece where it didn't belong. I wanted the world to suffer with me. To ache the way I ached. I knew that made me a monster. But grief doesn't care about right or wrong.