Fire Night (Devil's Night, #4.5)

by Penelope Douglas

“The years faded in and out,” she continued, “and any moment of clarity was like a knife in my brain. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stand to remember you. I was so weak.” I knew what that was like. I had the scars to prove it. She had pills. I had razor blades.

“A good parent has happy kids,” she whispered in my ear. “Our kids are so happy.”

I pulled back, looking at her as my thoughts started to come into focus again. It didn’t happen often, but it was hard not to compare myself. Kai’s kids had great manners and were fairly quiet. Athos was smart, ambitious, and determined. Will’s children never fought him on anything. They did what they were told the first time he asked. My kids… But I stopped the thought in its tracks, remembering Ivar helping his mom make pancakes this morning. My kids could be really sweet, actually, couldn’t they? Gunnar was so good about helping with spills, so his mom wouldn’t slip. Fane helped her pick out books at the store for Dag and Octavia, describing the pictures and story, so she knew what to buy. They were good kids. I drew in a breath and exhaled, letting the worry go for now. We were doing a good job.

A key hung from the lock on the window, a small scroll of paper tucked in the chain. I looked around the room, wondering who it belonged to. Reaching up, I unhooked the chain from the lock, holding the skeleton key in my hand and pulling the paper out of the link. Unrolling it, I read black handwriting. “The chords of the heart need to be touched to be played.”

No one is immune to emotion when those chords are pulled. No one. I closed my eyes, feeling the blood under my nails as I wrapped my cold fingers around the key. One night soon. While everyone was asleep. We’ll find out what the key unlocks, Octavia. We’ll own the night.