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.