Liam was very pointedly not looking at Riley just now. The priest had been terribly kind to him all this time, despite the things he'd spoken of in their first encounter in the confessional. He didn't want to watch those clear blue eyes cloud over when they looked at him, the judgment or disgust or disdain or whatever it might be.
The price of his soul though, that was a hard question to admit. His gaze still focused out over the ocean -- the cold gray of the water, even under the blue sky, the color of slate. The Massachusetts sea was not warm or welcoming. It wore its warning plainly on its surface. Dark and dangerous things lay out beyond the shore, beautiful but lethal, cold and unimaginably deep. The exact opposite of Liam, who was just as dark and dangerous, but who looked human and welcoming and charming.
Part of him wanted to lie, to say he'd traded his soul away for fortune or favor or fame. Instead he opened his mouth and the truth tumbled out of it. "When I was eleven, my brother died." He'd already told Riley that Patrick was his brother, so perhaps that was a strange statement to say so plainly. "It was my fault."
And when a stranger had suddenly shown up in that moment and asked Liam what he would give to have his brother back, when he'd looked at six-year-old Trick's broken little body, the only answer had been anything. Anything that he had to give if it meant that Patrick would be okay. And then he was, a twisted miracle that only Liam ever truly knew about. Trick didn't remember any of it, mercifully. It was seven years before Liam understood how high a price he'd actually agreed to, but even now he'd pay whatever it took for his brother's sake.
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The price of his soul though, that was a hard question to admit. His gaze still focused out over the ocean -- the cold gray of the water, even under the blue sky, the color of slate. The Massachusetts sea was not warm or welcoming. It wore its warning plainly on its surface. Dark and dangerous things lay out beyond the shore, beautiful but lethal, cold and unimaginably deep. The exact opposite of Liam, who was just as dark and dangerous, but who looked human and welcoming and charming.
Part of him wanted to lie, to say he'd traded his soul away for fortune or favor or fame. Instead he opened his mouth and the truth tumbled out of it. "When I was eleven, my brother died." He'd already told Riley that Patrick was his brother, so perhaps that was a strange statement to say so plainly. "It was my fault."
And when a stranger had suddenly shown up in that moment and asked Liam what he would give to have his brother back, when he'd looked at six-year-old Trick's broken little body, the only answer had been anything. Anything that he had to give if it meant that Patrick would be okay. And then he was, a twisted miracle that only Liam ever truly knew about. Trick didn't remember any of it, mercifully. It was seven years before Liam understood how high a price he'd actually agreed to, but even now he'd pay whatever it took for his brother's sake.