“I don’t hate you,” I told him, and Logan’s eyes brightened—until I continued. “But I hate that you lied to me. I hate how hurt and betrayed I feel right now.”
I felt tears start to prick my eyes, and I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, willing the traitorous tears to stay back.
“You were the one part of my life that wasn’t a lie. The best part,” I admitted, keeping my hands over my face as I spoke. I felt his fingertips circle my wrists and gently tug as he spoke, his voice soft and pleading.
“Don’t hide. Look at me. Please.”
I let Logan pull my hands from my face, and he quickly dropped his hold on my wrists. He stepped back a few feet, giving me space, but he kept his eyes locked on mine.
“Paige. Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say? I practically had a script written of what I wanted to say to you. But now...” My voice trailed off weakly as I ran my hands through my hair, gripping fistfuls of it at the scalp.
“Just tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I’m feeling like you should have told me the truth!” I cried, throwing my hands in the air before letting them drop, bringing my shoulders drooping, as well. “And honestly, I feel like everything you said or did must have been a lie.”
Logan swiftly crossed the distance between us, cupping my jaw in his hands and gently tilting my face up so my eyes met his.
“Paige, I swear to you on my parents, I have never once lied to you about how I feel about you,” he said gravely.
“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“I could give you a whole speech about who I am, and how it was for your own protection that I didn’t, but honestly, that would just be an excuse. The truth is, I was a selfish coward. I didn’t want to lose you.”
He brushed his knuckles along my cheek as he spoke, his eyes staring intently into mine.
“You know what, that’s not entirely accurate. It’s not that I didn’t want to lose you. It’s that I can’t lose you,” he confessed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t know how I can go back to a life without you in it. I don’t want to be without you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his hands from my face, stuffing his fists into his back pockets.
“Funny how that worked out, huh?” Logan asked bitterly. “I lost you anyway.”
“Why did you lie to me and say you were a half-warlock?”
“I am a half-warlock,” Logan maintained, somewhat indignantly. “I just happen to be half-demon, as well.”
“And you don’t think I deserved to know that we’re a different species?” I hissed, gesturing between us with my hand. “I mean, how do I know we’re even compatible in that way?”
Logan arched an eyebrow at me, and I blushed. Of all the things to bring up right now, this was what came shooting out of my mouth. Way to go, Paige. You’re as discreet as a dump truck.
“Paige, how do you think I even got here? Warlock dad, demon mom. Trust me, we’re compatible. In, um, that way,” he added, his pink cheeks matching mine as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Oh.” I stared at my sneakers, focusing on the same broken lace that I’d never bothered to fix.
“I’ll tell you what happened to them, if you want.”
My head jerked up, and the pleading expression on his face shocked me.
“You actually want to tell me about your parents?”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you. You’re the one person I want to talk to about everything. But I didn’t know how to bring it up without scaring you away with who I really am,” he admitted, his eyes downcast. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I’ve lost you anyway.”
“Not yet,” I whispered, and Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet mine.
“No?” he breathed, his eyes shining.
“We need to talk, but...I don’t think so. No.”
The words had barely left my mouth before Logan had me wrapped in his arms—and my hands snaked around him, squeezing him back.
“We still need to talk,” I reminded him, my voice muffled by how smushed I was against Logan’s chest.
“About anything you want,” he promised, but he kept me snugly in his embrace. Finally, I pushed away from him—I needed answers before he started kissing me, since Logan’s lips were a proven distraction technique.
He walked over to where he’d dropped his bulky bag, rooting around in it for a thickly folded plastic blue square.
“I figure we might as well get comfortable. This could take a while,” Logan said, shaking out the square to reveal a waterproof tarp. I helped him spread it out on the roof, and he pulled out a black sleeping bag, unzipping it so we could sit on it like a blanket.
“This is cozy,” I said, patting the thick nylon quilting of the sleeping bag as I sat on it, cross-legged.
“I was going to call you and tell you I’d be up here all weekend, and every day after school, whenever you wanted to talk,” Logan explained, reaching in the bag and pulling out two bottles of water. “I figured I’d be spending a lot of time up here.”
Logan unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water before replacing it and handing it to me. I stared at the water bottle, momentarily derailed by the gesture. It was one of a thousand little things he’d do to show he cared—opening my drinks so I wouldn’t have to struggle with the stubborn plastic cap. Indulging me in my chocolate obsession. All little tokens of affection that made me feel cherished.
And I knew that no matter what he was about to tell me, I could believe him. I should believe him. Logan’s feelings were truly genuine.
“So, you know how warlocks and demons are at war for control of the Dark World,” Logan began, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat cross-legged in front of me.
“Ever since the warlocks lost control centuries ago, they’ve been fighting to get back on the throne,” he explained. “They’ve had hundreds of years of rebellions. Think constant, brutal fighting—whole villages destroyed, families massacred—and it never accomplished anything. The warlocks never took the throne from the royal Regents.”
“That’s what you are, right? Your blood is the same color as Aiden’s. You’re a Regent?” I asked, tracing the stitching on the sleeping bag with my fingernail.
“Half-Regent,” he corrected. “Anyway, the Regents were powerful, wealthy and smart. A Regent’s biggest physical asset is that they—um, we,” he said, giving me a self-conscious smile, “are able to absorb and wield most demon powers. Like, if a fire demon tries to burn us alive, we just absorb the flames, and use them on someone else later. It makes us really hard to kill.”
“So, what can kill you?”
Logan arched an eyebrow. “You looking for ideas?”
“Yeah, me and my army of sparkly pink pens are coming for you. Oh, no, look out,” I added dryly, waving my hands in the air.
“Oh, those are definitely lethal,” Logan said soberly, his eyes wide and sincere before crinkling up in a smile. “But it takes a warlock or another Regent to kill a Regent. I’m not as impervious to injury, since I’m only half-Regent. But it still takes a really strong demon to take me down. And I can’t absorb every power. I can’t incinerate someone from the inside like Blaise can, for example. But I wouldn’t want to, either.” Logan scowled as he repeated her name.
“But apart from having the coolest demon power,” Logan added with a smile, “the Regents are smart, calculating politicians. About twenty years ago, they called for a summit meeting in the Dark City with the heads of the warlocks, saying they wanted to end the rebellions, end the bloodshed.”
“What’s the Dark City?” I asked.
“It’s the other side’s version of New York City,” Logan explained, waving his hand toward the midtown skyscrapers that surrounded us. �
��It’s essentially the capital of the demon world. Every demon race is represented with their own zone, which is really just a neighborhood, and whoever sits on the throne there rules the world.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “One demon, in charge of an entire world, just because they sit on the throne in some city?”
Logan snorted. “Have you met a New Yorker who doesn’t think the world begins and ends with this city?”
“Very funny.” I gave him a withering look, before adding, “And for the record, it does.”
Logan grinned, spreading his palms as if to say, “See?”
“Anyway,” he continued, “centuries of rebellions had decimated numbers on both sides. Most demons aren’t fighters, you know. They just want to live their little demon lives.”
“What, with a house, two kids and a dog that can eat your face off?” I asked sarcastically—before realizing that this was Logan’s family I was mocking. Fortunately, he chuckled at my comment.
“Something like that. Although demon dogs are actually quite well-mannered,” he added thoughtfully. “They don’t eat your face off unless commanded to do so.”
I gawked at him, and he shrugged.
“You brought it up,” he said, rubbing his slightly stubbly jaw, and I vowed to keep my own jaw clamped shut until he was done talking. “Anyway, the summit proposed the establishment of a council, made up of warlocks and Regents, to handle all disagreements, grievances, dole out punishments, set up laws.... You get the idea,” he explained, and I nodded. “Rego was on this council, obviously.”
Logan got more agitated as he spoke, coiling the white string of his hoodie around his finger. I reached out my hand to steady his, where his skin was starting to turn bright red from the cord being wrapped too tightly.
Logan clutched my hand in his, threading our fingers together as he brought our joined hands to rest on his knee.
“The other warlock in charge was Rego’s best friend, Maxim Rex,” he said. “He and Rego were the new leaders of the warlocks—the smartest, most effective leaders they’d had in centuries. Maxim Rex was brilliant. Fast. Lethal. And he was the logical choice to rule the Dark World—way more than Rego.” He paused. “Maxim Rex was my dad.”
I noticed he said was, but I remained silent, simply holding his hand and letting Logan continue his story.
“Rego and my dad believed that warlocks belonged in power—that this council wouldn’t solve anything but keep the warlocks from asserting their rightful place on the throne. So the plan was to get close to key members of the council, gain their trust, learn their secrets—and then slaughter them.
“It didn’t go as planned,” Logan said with a sly smile.
I gave him a questioning look, and he continued, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
“My dad was apparently renowned for his—how can I say this?—other skills.” Logan coughed nervously. “He had quite a reputation, if you know what I mean.”
“Since he’s your dad, I guess we’ll go with the term heartbreaker?” I suggested, and Logan exhaled, relieved.
“Yeah, that works,” he agreed, giving me a grateful smile. “I can’t think of my dad as a player. I mean, the man wore turtlenecks.”
We both laughed, although Logan’s was more a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, my dad’s assignment was to woo the daughter of the Regent king. See what secrets he could wheedle out of her, and then kill her when she wasn’t useful anymore.”
Some memory tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips—a memory that was in stark contrast to the brutal story he was telling—because an adoring smile spread across his face.
“What happened?” I prodded him.
“What do you think happened?” Logan asked, sadness coloring his sentimental smile. “They fell in love. The demon princess and the warlock tasked with killing her. Also known as Mom and Dad.”
Logan’s eyes darted to mine, studying me for my reaction. Even though I’d assumed this was where the story was headed, it was still a shock to hear my boyfriend’s supernaturally scandalous parentage confirmed.
“That’s why my blood is that color. All Regents are some shade of purple, but only members of the royal line bleed that deep purple color,” Logan continued when I didn’t freak out.
I did my best to keep my face calm, even as I realized this meant Aiden was somehow related to him, and squeezed his hand to prompt him to continue with his story,
“As you can probably guess, their relationship didn’t go over well.” Logan frowned, his eyebrows pulling together as he ran over the next part of the story in his head. “Obviously my father wasn’t planning on killing her anymore—especially after they found out that I was on the way. But my parents were young and stupid and idealistic. They thought I was proof that we could coexist peacefully.”
Logan picked up my hand from where it rested on his knee, clasping it between both of his as he gritted his teeth.
“Yeah, right. Coexist peacefully, my ass. The news that I was on my way wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. The warlocks considered the infallible Maxim Rex to be a traitor. And of course, once the Regents discovered the plot to kill the council, they wanted to slaughter all the warlocks. So, my parents escaped. They abandoned everything, disguising themselves as regular humans to raise me here.”
Logan spread one hand around him, indicating our world.
“They left it all behind?”
“For me.” His voice was hollow as he spoke, guilt coloring his face.
“Logan, that’s what good parents do. They sacrifice for their kids,” I said, clutching his hands tightly. “They wanted to save you. They didn’t want you to be a part of that war.”
“No, they didn’t.” Logan pressed his lips together in a line. “But after Regents took my parents, I didn’t have much of a choice.”
We were both sitting cross-legged. I scooted closer to him so our knees were touching, and reached out, resting my palm gently against his warm cheek. He shut his eyes and leaned into my touch, folding his hand over mine before bringing our clasped hands between us again.
“Rego had kept in contact with my parents. He didn’t agree with my dad’s decisions, but he said he respected them. Maxim Rex—well, actually, at this point, he just went by Max, because it sounded more ‘human,’” Logan explained, emphasizing the word. “Anyway, Max taught Rego how to set up places like the apartment I live in now—areas that straddle both worlds. My parents wanted to keep tabs on what was happening in the Dark World—my mom especially worried about her family—so Rego would report back to my parents with any news from the other side.
“Nine years ago, there was a huge warlock rebellion on the other side. It was brutal.” Logan emphasized the word, letting out a low whistle. “The armies of both sides were nearly destroyed. The Regents won, but only barely. So, the warlocks were ready to reconsider the idea of a ruling council.”
Logan kept his eyes on our clasped hands, linking and unlinking our fingers, seeming to memorize the way they fit together as they rested between us. He inhaled deeply, steadying his breathing, and I knew whatever event separated him from his parents was coming.
“It was right after my eighth birthday. I don’t really remember a lot about being a little kid, but I remember that my parents threw me this big, elaborate party. It was like they knew it would be the last one. My mom sat me down and explained that she had to leave for a few months, that her family needed her. I threw such a fit,” Logan recalled with a short, bitter laugh. “I was a spoiled brat. My mom and dad had gotten me this radio-controlled car for my birthday, and they’d promised to take me out to play with it. I was so pissed that she wouldn’t be around to do it. Like I said, brat.”
“All kids are brats,” I said, squeezing his hand, and Logan gave me a grateful look.
“I was too little to understa
nd what they were telling me. My mom and dad really wanted peace in their world,” he continued, his voice reverential as he spoke of them. “With no peace in that world, we’d have none in this one. Mom was a member of the royal family in charge, and she obviously had credibility for wanting an alliance between the warlocks and demons. So it made sense that she return to the Dark World to reassume her role with the royal family, and Rego came to stay with my dad and me, as added protection, since some Regents still wanted all warlocks to die, and vice versa.”
Logan abruptly dropped my hands, folding one arm over his chest and bringing his other palm to cover his face. He rubbed his eyes, and when he finally met my gaze again, his brown eyes were bloodshot and bleary.
“I didn’t even smell the smoke,” he whispered, his eyes resting on me but unfocused. “Rego shook me from my bed. I was coughing. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t breathe. He said we had to leave. Someone had given me this little backpack for my birthday. They told me never leave home without it—I think it had some kind of little kid tracking device on it. Anyway, I grabbed it and started throwing stuff in it. Mostly toys I had gotten for my birthday. A framed picture. The remote-controlled car. I was still grabbing stuff when Rego just picked me up and ran out of the house with me.”
We were sitting on a rooftop in the middle of Manhattan, but all I could hear was Logan’s uneven breathing as he told his story, the sounds of traffic and people chattering six stories below blending into a low, dull, insignificant buzz.
“I didn’t know what was happening. I was screaming for my parents. I finally passed out from exhaustion and stress. We had lived in Connecticut, and the next thing I remember was waking up in a hotel room in Pennsylvania. Rego told me what he’d learned—the Regents ruled that my mother was a traitor to her kind. They took her as their prisoner. Her own family.” Logan angrily dashed away the few tears that had leaked onto his cheeks with his knuckles, his movement so aggressive I was afraid he’d bruise his skin. “That night, the fire was supposed to kill me, the unholy, unnatural spawn.” He spat the words out, his voice shaking with rage.
The Dark World Page 27