Hopefully, it’s only for a few hours, maybe a few days at most.
And unlike when Augustus took her and sold her, this time, Ophelia is here because of her own actions. She made Ares kill people.
Fuck.
It’s all so fucked up.
I lay Ophelia down on the bed, my stomach twisted in knots.
“This is her?” Harry asks, studying Ophelia. “Your old best friend?”
I nod. “Guess I owe Sysco an apology. He seemed to see it the moment I told you both about her.”
“Sometimes we’re too close to situations to see the whole picture,” Harry says as he takes a bag of blood from his pocket and hands it to me. “Don’t be too hard on yourself for not wanting to think the worst of someone you once loved.”
“Thank you, Harry,” I say, truly appreciative of his understanding. I bite into the bag, draining it down. It coats my insides, cooling my body. I feel that shift inside, the one like my entire body is being lit up by divine electricity. My eyes close for a second as the wave of perfection washes over me.
“Good stuff?” Harry asks.
I open my eyes to see him studying me with one raised eyebrow. His look is inquisitive, but a little perplexed. “It should be disgusting, but somehow it’s the best thing ever.”
He gives a small half smile, one that says he understands.
I eye the man beside me. “Why don’t you seem surprised by this? The fact that Ophelia could make Ares do all this? It’s still shocking the hell out of me, and I’ve had a few days to process the idea that there are other supernatural… beings out there besides vampires.”
Harry’s eyes slide over to me. “America is still such an infant in so many ways. A couple of supernaturally gifted people got caught, and they hunted them down, plus a bunch of innocent people. But back home in Korea, there are shaman who are well known.”
I arch an eyebrow at that.
“Are you really all that surprised?” Harry asks. “All the stories. All the legends.”
“My awesome American education didn’t cover much of Korea’s witch history.”
“They prefer the namemudang. Witch is too Americanized,” Harry says, cracking the first joke I’ve ever heard from him, even though it’s not really a joke.
I chuckle and shake my head. “The world just keeps spinning further into insanity,” I say. “I never?—”
Ophelia stirs on the bed, a groan coming from her throat. She rolls over on the bed, a curse coming from her lips as she stretches her neck. I’m sure she’s damn sore.
“Don’t try that again,” I warn her. She was trying to talk me into leaving Ares when I knocked her out.
Ophelia jerks up in the bed, shoving herself across it, getting as far away from me as she can. Her gaze rips around the room, and I see it as she begins realizing where she is and what this all means.
“I need to know exactly what it was you told Ares to do,” I say, using every bit of my willpower to stay composed. I want to have a full-on tantrum. I want to go all WWE on her ass. The amount of rage I feel in this moment isastounding.
“What thefuck, Lana?” Ophelia snarls, her gaze fixing on me again. And as we stare at each other, that is absolute hatred she’s broadcasting at me.
“I’m not playing games, Ophelia,” I say, taking a step closer to her. She eyes me warily, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to retreat to. “This could have gone very differently, but now we’re all dealing with the consequences of your choices. I’m really, really losing patience. So, tell me. What exactly did you tell Ares to do?”
“Fuck you,” she says in a breath, glaring daggers at me, but her curse comes out a little breathy and scared.
Harry takes a step forward. I see his eyes flash red, and two little indents form on his lips as his fangs extend. But he doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t snarl at her. In fact, he keeps his hands tucked in his pockets. He steps to the edge of the bed. He leans forward. Those glowing red eyes of his stay fixed on Ophelia as he leans in, his face only a foot from hers.
At Harry’s approach, at his very obvious vampireness, Ophelia quakes.
“I am not a person who likes messes,” Harry says. His voice is deadly calm. “In fact, before I Resurrected, I had some pretty severe OCD. And while I never received a diagnosis, if I had to guess, I’m on the spectrum. I really, really don’t like when people make messes. I really don’t like when they mess with shit they shouldn’t touch. So, Ophelia. I need you to tell us exactly what you told Ares to do.”
Ophelia’s entire body shakes. Her eyes are bloodshot. I can smell the perspiration on her skin. She’s breathing so hard and so deep, I hope she doesn’t pass out.
