“You’re stronger than it, Emma.”
“Don’t,” she commanded lowly. She spun, but no matter how much she looked, she never saw the form of the speaker, unlike she did with Gold. It caused a strange ache within her, like maybe she didn’t see because she’d forgotten.
She reached along the handle, feeling the power emanating from it. It was hard to describe the feeling: vibrations and heat and cold and such a strong stillness, like anticipation in physical form. Dark magic felt nothing like her own, and it seemed to call to her.
Gold was saying something to her, but for once the other voice was drowning him out. “I’ve always believed in you, and I know you can get through this.”
The whisper washed over her, that oh-so-familiar cadence of sound. Tears beaded along her lash line, and she pulled her hand back. “Graham—“
“Something is trying to stop you, but how do you know the true owner of the voice? It couldn’t possibly be your dear departed sheriff. Perhaps it is just a trick to keep you from your true fate,” Gold suggested.
She froze. The voice … she hadn’t ever questioned it before. It had appeared only as the darkness closed in. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right: it couldn’t be real, could it? She reached forward again, with more determination.
“Stop it,” she hissed. She raked her fingers across her temples, clawing at her scalp. “I can’t take another voice in my head.”
“It must be drawing on your weakness. You need to give in, get rid of whatever attaches you.”
Gold’s voice danced over the words, and she knew there had to be a trick there. She can’t trust him, and she can’t trust the voice, either. She can’t do anything with all these voices resonating so much more loudly than the people she surrounded herself with.
Shakily, she reached for her wrist, feeling the ties that she had threaded there so many times. Every day, she had unwrapped it, knowing she would put it back on as soon as she’d showered. But now as she pulled the knot loose, she felt heavy. She hesitated, letting the laces rest suspended on her skin.
She swallowed. If it was Graham, it would have been a comfort. But if it wasn’t, it could be a threat.
“Let it loose,” Gold prodded.
“It’s okay. I’ll be waiting. And there’s always the other in the office.”
She gasped lowly, feeling the tears rushing forward. It felt like his stupid sense of humor, the way the words lilted up. She couldn’t trust it. She couldn’t trust it. She picked at the string, slowly letting it brush her skin as it was pulled off.
The words cut off as the lace landed on dirt, crashing to the ground with nary a whisper.
If she thought she’d felt lips at the crown of her head, a gentle caress in a ghost of feeling, she buried it deep.
She reached forward again.
