“Oooh, questions, questions.” She brought her interlaced knuckles to her lips, musing. “If you could be anyone else, who would you be?” Another grin. “Whose skin would you wear?”

“I—” I glanced at Beau without thinking. She didn’t miss the movement. “I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Defensive, I asked, “Who would you be?”

She lowered her hands to her chest. With her fingers still laced together, she could’ve been praying. Except for the calculated gleam in her eyes, her fiendish smile. “I can be whoever I want to be.”

I cleared my throat, fought to ignore the hair lifting on my neck. Lost. “How do you know about cauchemars? I’ve studied the occult my entire life, and I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

“You’ve extinguished the occult. I’ve lived with it.” She cocked her head. The movement sent a fresh shiver down my spine. “I am it. We learn more in the shadows than we ever do in the sun.” When I didn’t answer, she asked abruptly, simply, “How would you choose to die?”

Ah. I eyed her knowingly. Here we go. “If I could choose . . . I suppose I’d want to die of old age. Fat and happy. Surrounded by loved ones.”

“You wouldn’t choose to die in battle?”

A startled breath. A sickening thud. A scarlet halo. I pushed my last memory of Ansel aside, looking her squarely in the eye. “I wouldn’t choose that death for anyone. Not even myself. Not anymore.”

“He chose it.”

Though my heart twisted—though even his name brought uncomfortable pressure to my eyes—I inclined my head. “He did. And I’ll honor him for it every day of my life—that he chose to help you, to fight with you. That he chose to face Morgane with you. He was the best of us.” Her smile finally slipped, and I reached out to grip her hand. Despite its icy temperature, I didn’t let go. “But you shouldn’t feel guilty. Ansel made the decision for himself—not for you or for me, but for him. Now,” I said firmly before she could interrupt, “it’s your turn. Answer the question.”

Her face remained inscrutable. Blank. “I don’t want to die.”

I rubbed her frigid hand between my own, trying to warm it. “I know. But if you had to choose—”

“I would choose not to die,” she said.

“Everyone dies, Lou,” I said gently.