The only surprise here was Emma. She stared at the body and tapped her throat. “I made him do that,” she said. Maybe Apollo didn’t expect shock really—think of all she’d experienced so far—but she discussed Jorgen’s wound, his death, so casually, like a bit of home improvement. A tasteful choice for the backsplash above the kitchen counters. “I wouldn’t let him sleep,” Emma said without passion. “I wouldn’t give him any peace. Every night I slipped inside his head and made him listen.”
