Maybe I didn’t. I did, however, recognize fully the power he held. And not just over me.

“You have to promise not to hurt anyone else,” I said.

He laughed, becoming a monster fully once again.

A bitter taste rose in the back of my throat, and I resisted the urge to recoil from him.

What was I doing? Giving away the very last of my power to this nightmare he had become?

No. That wasn’t it. I was buying it back. Piece by piece.

Peace by peace.

Because I could bear it here more easily if I knew my friends were safe. And if this worked, the demand for my release would come next. By then, if I played my cards right, he would hopefully be under the influence of another mask. But . . . one thing at a time.

“These are my terms,” I said. “I won’t try to escape again. And I won’t ask you to let me go. But, in return, you have to swear you won’t hurt anyone.”

“In exchange for such a promise . . . you would agree to willingly remain here?” he asked. “With me? Indefinitely?”

“I have to stay anyway, don’t I?” I asked.

If that man who had tried to get to me yesterday came back, or if Lucas or anyone else from SPOoKy came for me, what would he do to them? If I could protect them, if he would strike this bargain with me, then . . . did I have any other choice?

“You expect him to come for you,” he said, his voice becoming dangerously quiet. “The boy. That is why you ask.”

With this outright mention of Lucas specifically, my heartbeat thundered harder than ever.

“You can’t do anything to him,” I said, the words flying out. “You can’t touch him at all. Or anyone else. They’re my friends. That’s why you have to promise.”

“And if I agree, then you will tell him of your decision to remain here with me and that you do so of your own free will?”

“Yes,” I forced myself to say, only pausing afterward to contemplate what his question implied. Because . . . if he needed my reassurance that I would remain, that suggested the opportunity to escape did exist, or at least that my rescue was possible.

“You understand what will happen if you break this oath.”

The same thing that would have happened if I’d never made it.

“Yes.”

“Done,” he said as he shut the violin case.

Picking up the candelabrum, he then extended it to me.

Stunned by his abrupt and unquestioning acceptance, I took it from him, my hand brushing his gloved one.

The deal had been struck without haggling or negotiation. And now this must be his way of telling me that I was . . . dismissed.

Numbed and addled by the swiftness of the exchange, I almost turned away. I caught myself, though, forcing my hand to set the candelabrum back down. Though I had gotten what I’d come for, I hadn’t gotten everything I wanted. I’d come so close to stoking an ember of his old self into flame. Perhaps it wasn’t too late—or too soon—to try again. And, if I wanted to be honest with myself, I had come armed with more than just words.