Once I was finished drawing the dismal dungeon and felt the telltale spike of otherworldly energy, I stood and moved behind Carmichael’s chair. I raised my foot and planted my boot on the back of his chair, kicking hard and savoring his scream as he fell through the gateway. All that was left of him was a puddle of blood and his now-useless balls.

I considered cleaning up the mess for all of two seconds, opting instead to use the hideous rug to smear blood onto the drawing, rendering it inert. I didn’t give two shits whether or not someone found the mess. Carmichael got what he deserved. Better than he deserved, because he was still alive.

“I should’ve killed him,” I whispered. I shook my head and stared up at the exposed ceiling beams to keep myself from crying under the force of my regret. I was suddenly more disappointed in myself than I’d ever been in my entire life. It didn’t matter that Carmichael likely had a wealth of useful information about the Ouroboros Corporation’s other nefarious projects, not after what he’d done.

I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut. “I should have killed him!” It wasn’t a scream or a yell or a shout. It was a roar.

Chapter Thirteen

It was maybe six by the time I left Carmichael’s building. I didn’t even attempt to draw another gateway; creating the gateway to Bainbridge had left me completely drained. The sun had set, dusk had come and gone, and the moon was blocked by a thick layer of clouds, leaving behind a darkness better suited to the middle of the night. Which was well enough, because I looked like I’d just murdered someone. Which was extra frustrating, considering the knot in my stomach was there because I hadn’t killed Carmichael. It was there because I’d let him live.

The trip back to Garth’s was a rain-soaked blur. I walked a few blocks, then hot-wired a little crotch rocket and rode the bike up slick streets to Capitol Hill. I ditched the bike in an alleyway a few blocks from Garth’s condo and skulked the rest of the way there through the puddles, sticking to the shadows between streetlights.

I pulled up short when I reached the glass double doors marking the entrance to the building. “Shit,” I hissed, backstepping a few yards. I’d totally forgotten about the doorman sitting behind the little reception desk. This was the only exterior door I had a key for, and I couldn’t exactly tromp through the lobby with blood smeared all over my clothes.

I couldn’t break in the same way I’d left, either—that door was exit only; no keyhole at all, so picking the lock wasn’t even an option, and Garth wouldn’t be home for another hour or two, so I couldn’t call him to come down and open that door from the inside. There was a garage underneath the building. It had a roll-down steel and glass door at street level that opened only when the condo residents came and went. I’d never been down there, but I didn’t see that I had any other choice.