Roshani Chokshi

“By all means, take your time. I love a good slow, painful death.”

“It’ll be ‘like dreaming,’ you said. As ‘easy as sleep’!”

“Nightmares are part of sleeping.”

She should have been more careful, but that was the problem with happiness. It blinds.

Séverin had called for a meeting once he and Enrique got back from their latest acquisition, which she knew was just a fancy word for “theft.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

Séverin glanced down at his clothes. “Surprisingly, it hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“I’ve given up on your soul,” said Enrique.

“You know how moths look at a fire and think, ‘Oooh! shiny!’ and then die in a burst of flames and regret?”

“Dangerous, yes, but the most rewarding things are,” said Séverin.

“You’re a bird?”

“A moth!” said Enrique. “A moth approaching a flame!”

“That’s a very alarming moth.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s an alarming metaphor too.”

“How thoughtful of you to delay the hour of your death so that I might witness it firsthand,” she said coldly.