Foolish Mortals

Chapter 12

in-tran-si-gent

inˈtransəjənt

adjective

unwilling or refusing to change one's views or to agree about something

synonyms: uncompromising, inflexible, unyielding, unshakable, unwavering, resolute, stubborn

"Uhh." I blinked, staring at him for a long moment. My body stilled. I held my breath. The only thing still functioning was my heart, and I could only tell because it was thundering in my ears. "I need to think. For a minute." I leapt to my feet, twisting my wrist out of his grasp.

He let me go and sat silently, gazing up at me. I met his eyes, then looked away, locking my arms behind my back. I began pacing in swift circles around the outskirts of the kitchen, brain working furiously.

What he was saying was crazy. Of course. I had seen some crazy things, but I had known there must be a logical explanation. Such as what? Such as... my mind blanked on that. I had never lost memories when drinking before, no matter how drunk I got, so I had discounted that. But perhaps the beating had compounded it. Robbie had also seen it, I reminded myself. That meant it was real, not a hallucination.

I needed more proof. Now, in the light of day. Eyes wide open, sober as a judge. I whirled to Liam and found him still watching me, looking completely relaxed, but with that same lazy alertness of a predator. Was that what he was? No. He had never harmed me, and he'd had ample opportunity by this point.

"Show me," I demanded. I crossed to the opposite side of the kitchen and leaned in the doorway, crossing my arms. I jerked my chin up in a challenge. "Right now. Do the... teleportation thing you did before, to me, and then back to the chair."

Liam's mouth spread into a wide smile, his eyes lighting up with it, and he nodded. "Very good, Jacqueline. Do not blink."

I didn't even have time to blink. There was a small stirring of air, and there he was. Standing right in front of me, looming large as life, so close his chest was brushing mine. Then, before I could respond, move back, scream, jump, or wrap my arms around him for comfort... I still wasn't sure which one I wanted to do... he disappeared again. The wooden kitchen chair rocked back as he slammed into it. Then he kicked back and planted his large feet on the table, crossing his arms and looking altogether too smug for my taste.

"Get your feet off the table."

Liam's grin widened and he lifted his shiny shoes, folding his long frame up again until they landed on the floor. As he did so he watched me, and the smile faded into concern.

"You look sick. Perhaps you should sit."

"No," I said, and started to pace again.

Okay. That was undeniable. Even if I couldn't trust Liam, I could trust myself. I could trust my own senses. Which meant he had to be telling me the truth. Which meant...

"Simone is really dead?"

He looked over my face and nodded. "She was out of control. It was necessary."

"She's a person, even if she is a Vessel or whatever," I said, going back to stalking in circles. "Doesn't she deserve like... a trial, or something?"

"She was on trial when we released her the last time," Liam said. "This is not her first transgression. She knew the consequences, but the lust for taking a life overcame her." His expression softened. "I forget how young you are. Do not feel sympathy for her. She felt none for your friend, and none for you when her hand was choking the life from you."