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It's long past midnight.

The apartment is quiet when I walk out of the bathroom, everyone seems to have left while I was trying to wash the sticky burn ointment off my hands. Yet, even after taking a shower and changing my clothes, in a plain wrap dress--finally something different from Polina's pants and sweaters, because I'm tired of dressing up like a modern soldier--and with my hair still wet, I can't stop thinking about Nilam's words.

You'll be a hero tomorrow.

A hero? For killing my best friend?

The door to Mir's room is an inch ajar, but I don't see him there, only the flickering shadows the fireplace casts across the dark wooden floor. I should talk to Mir, Bogdan can't be the killer, right? Not the boy I knew. I should have got it all wrong. And if Dan is the reason I'm dead, then why do others keep hiding things from me?

Why does Adélard pry about my death?

How can Mir know about my and Vlad's past while nobody else seems to know even Vlad's name?

And...where is Vlad Voskresenyev himself?

Pausing by the door, I raise my hand to knock, because that's what polite people do, because the door is unlatched, but not open. Come in if you must, but don't think you are welcome.

You let everyone too close to your heart and expect others to do the same, Tanya's words emerge from the memory. Sometimes people are good to you simply because they want something from you. So use them before they use you, or they'll destroy you.

She was right, I let myself be destroyed. Nothing but a stripped soul in a stranger's body. A stranger to myself.

My knuckles freeze in the air, making no noise. But I tried to stop feeling it all, Sis. I did! And I tried again this time, tried to be the cruel bitch they painted, but... How can I remain unaffected, when Kadri shares her bitterest secret with me? When Nilam trusts me with magic that can kill us all, Ady laughs at my stupid jokes, and Laverna cooks her shitty breakfasts to cheer me up?

The only person who never lets me in is Mir Praejis.

My hand falls. There's no use in knocking on a closed door. After tomorrow, there's no use for me even to stay among the living, because making friends and falling in love only makes it worse when you know you have to give it all up in a year.

I turn around, resolved to keep these few hours till sunrise to myself and--a jar of varenye maybe. I'll read something, or dress up beautifully to remember how joyful small things can be, or just shut my eyes and pretend I can dream. Dream of being a strong girl my sister taught me to be--

"Yaroslava?" My own name startles me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Ady stepping out of the door next to Mir's room, his voice surprised, but his expression amused. "You have no idea how perfect the timing is."

"I thought you left with Kadri," I say.

"I was going to, but...I stopped by, to wish Mir goodnight." His brows draw together mirroring my frown. "Doesn't sound plausible enough?"

"No. And still, no poker face."

He clicks his tongue. "Whatever. I'm tired of you, guys. Just talk."

Behind Ady's back, Mir appears on the threshold of that same room. "Don't forget the word you learned tonight, Ady," Mir says sarcastically. "Might come in handy if you're going on a date."

Ady lets out an annoyed breath. "On second thought, Yara, don't just talk. Kick his ass until he understands that the thing he's trying to say right now"--he raises his voice to sound didactic-- "is thank you for your advice, Adélard." Then Adélard walks down the hall and disappears around the corner. And Mir and I are left face to face. Alone.

We stare at each other for a long, awkward moment. Mir doesn't look as confident as Ady did. He is rather exhausted, not on the outside, but on the inside--his eyes seem dull, lacking a spark, or a word, or an emotion to express what he wants to express. As if he's had too much to feel lately. So much that it hurt, and he willed himself to switch it all off.

Only people can't switch it off. He can't.

"Why aren't you resting?" Mir asks.

"Why aren't you?"

He narrows his eyes at me, I've answered a question with a question, like he used to, but whether he's irritated or entertained, I'm not sure. A beat later, he crosses over to the door of his own room and pushes it open, taking a step aside. Letting me in.

I expected Mir to hide something in this room, some powerful magical object or a fragile antique vase worth a fortune (or my bones), anything he wouldn't trust me with since he's never let me in here before. But it's just a room. Several bookshelves, a couch, and a fireplace with a plush rug to sit and watch the flames. Funny, the crackling coals don't disturb me anymore. Mir has called Fire Girl so many times I stopped being scared of fire.

There's no bed, however, only a pile of pillows and blankets that he probably throws across the couch to nap. Did I find him asleep in my bedroom the other night because he gave me his own bed?..

And there's a TV, up on the wall, the local news channel is on.

"When you died, they showed you there," he explains as my eyes linger on the muted screen. "I never watched the news. Never knew you were dead." He pauses. "Until recently."

"Even if you knew I'd died, you wouldn't go rescuing me right away." Before I close the door behind me, I catch a glimpse of Laverna. She meets my eyes across the hall, yet not a muscle betrays her thoughts, only her eyes flash. "You didn't know me in the body of Yaroslava Slavich, did you?"

Mir says nothing.

And he's silent when I climb to sit on the windowsill, gazing outside, scanning the street for the sign of Bogdan. There are only streetlights and night fog. No ghosts. No demons.

"When we're through with tomorrow's bedlam, can I stay here?" I ask without turning to look at Mir. "I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere to spend the year of my life."

I listen to him nearing, his moves irregular, clipped, and I think I can even hear him take a step back once, before reaching my seat on the windowsill. "Do you want to stay?" He sounds different, weirdly uncertain. Vulnerable.

Something's terribly wrong with this moment. I came to demand answers. I came for an accusation, for a scandal, for a fight. I don't feel like fighting anymore. My hand slips to my pendant, but the edges of the crescent are cold. No magic's applied here, what I feel is mine only.

The wrongness is similar to déjà vu, itching at the back of my mind, pleading for attention, but each time I give it a spotlight, the idea glides away. Like I know what is going to happen like it has all happened already. The same river as before, but I'm on the other side now.

Mir's fingers brush a strand of my damp hair away from my neck when I don't reply. He doesn't repeat the question, and his touch is as light as a breeze.

Here's what's wrong. I don't feel like fighting, because there's nobody to fight with. Mir's mere presence is hot with surrender. There's a vulnerability in the courage of giving up control, and you can always sense when a person does that, because you suddenly know you can be or say whatever you want, and no one will judge you. No prejudice.

You belong.

"I do," I say.

Another lock of my hair's tucked away, and Mir's mouth finds the curve of my neck. "Then stay," he says as his lips skim along the skin under my jaw, sending goosebumps. "Stay as long as you wish. Stay forever."

Forever? You don't mean it. I'm about to express my doubts aloud, but his hand cups my chin, gently turning my face toward him, and his kiss leaves me speechless.

He kisses me deliberately, steadily as he has never done it before. He doesn't pull me in his arms, though, saving the inches between our bodies cool, giving me a chance to refuse. And I have to refuse, yet his closeness reminds me of coming home so much I have no power against it.

Even if it breaks my heart again. I can battle Death, but not this. Stupid dreamer.

"I kissed Nilam," I whisper when our mouths part for air.

Mir falters as if I slapped him, but his eyes stay closed. "I know." Planting another kiss on my lower lip, he sounds almost imploring. "But don't you want to kiss me, too?"

I do. More than anyone.

As my fingers clutch at his shirt, he finally reduces the gap between us, drawing me to his torso. A quiet moan rolls off his tongue as I turn and wrap my legs around his hips, trapping him in my embrace. The skirt of my loose dress falls over my stomach, exposing my thighs.

Mir leans down, his lips and the tip of his tongue caressing my jaw, my neck, and my collarbone, right over the mark his teeth left there when the ritual at the garage went awry. Then his hand tugs at the surplice neckline of my dress, and he trails down.

"Mir?" He pulls my sleeve off my shoulder, leaving half of my chest exposed to his lips. "What about Adélard?"

Laugher bubbles up his throat, transforming into warmth on my breast. "What about him? Ady's a big boy, he has Gyoku and a straight wedding to thwart. He doesn't mind us two."

But I mind what he said. That's what Mir does best--leads astray. When I asked him about his sigil scar, he chose another secret to trade, showing me different scars. And he's being evasive now, picking another unanswered question from the pile, and hiding behind his jokes, and distracting me with his kisses.

"Mir--"

"Tell me to stop," he says, untying the lace holding my dress tight around my waist. "And I'll stop."

Angels know I don't want that. But I came here for answers. "Stop."

His hands freeze midmotion. He looks up at me, searching for a hint of what he's done wrong, his expression hurt. With the moonlight across his face and the fireplace behind his back, he looks delusive. Just like my beating heart.

"Adélard said you two didn't get along because he'd kissed you." Mir's features darken, but I ignore it. "But you're obviously fine with it, quipping here and there. So what is it? Why do you two avoid each other for days, and tonight Ady's so blunt all of a sudden?" I hesitate, my hand releasing Mir's shirt. "And you're so opportunistic."

A somber line appearing across his brow, Mir looks at my hand. Slowly, he removes my legs from his sides, and steps back. "You do know how to ruin a moment."

Rubbing his neck in frustration, he begins walking around the room. I wait for him to say more, but the longer he stalls, the less likely he seems to speak, sinking back into his thoughts unknown to me.

"You still don't trust me with your truth, Mir."

"It's not about the truth. It's the weight of it."

"Just tell me."

"And if it's too heavy?"

"Then you help me carry it."

He doesn't answer.

Vexed, I fix my dress, and hop off the window. Mir stands before the fireplace with his back to me, his posture tense. The rest of the apartment is silent, let alone the night outside, everything's so flawlessly still that it feels like we're the only chaos in the world. We, people. I hate it when Mir shuts down, refusing to talk. But if I start arguing now, he will only rebuke. So I bite back my exasperation.

Skirting the couch, I stop beside him in front of the fire, the heat blowing into my face. I feel Mir's eyes on me as I grab the blanket from the stack and snuggle down on the rug by the hearth. "Sit with me, Praejis." I don't ask, I command.

Grudgingly, he drops beside me.

"When I was little, I was fascinated by fire," I admit. "You can watch it forever, the pattern never repeats itself. So don't look at me, Mir, look there. Tell the fire, and I'll simply listen, too."

After a moment, Mir loosens a sigh. "It was me and Ady who arranged Polina's body for you, Yara."

"Okay."

"No, not okay. We designed it." He swallows, staring at the hot light, his expression troubled. "I mean, sure, it was Kadri's pick, Nilam's potion, and Laverna who invited Polina to the club that night and drugged her, but it was Ady and I who tied her up, put her in the car, and drove her to the graveyard."

Tied her up? The ropes at my wrists and ankles, they weren't meant for me when I woke up among the graves? Then... Polina never meant to give me this body. I'll tell them that you let me do it, Zoryan told me when he thought I was his girlfriend. A shocked shiver runs down my spine at the realization. Polina knew what Zoryan was intending to do to Kadri, she knew and left her best friend alone with her fiancé. She wasn't say sorry.

Kadri was asking me about the curse of bad luck, but she must have cursed Zoryan after she spoke to me. Which means the magic she used prior, the one she was confessing to me at the university...Polina let Kadri feel unsafe in her own body, and Kadri took Polina's body in return.

"We agreed that we were taking justice in our own hands," Mir says, "that Polina deserved a punishment and you deserved a life. And if one of us changed their mind, if it felt wrong, we'd call it all off, but..."

"But it felt right."

"Yes."

My throat tightens, this is a heavy truth. Almost too heavy. That's why Ady was asking about my death. Adélard meant it as a year-long lesson for Polina, a temporary measure. But not Kadri, right? Pol and I, we swore that the one who lived would bring a bouquet of dried flowers to the other's funeral, she told me. Now I remember the bouquet in the apartment's hall I saw the night I was brought here. The bouquet of dried flowers. Kadri bid farewell to her friend the night I was resurrected.

I breathe in a stolen body, I live a stolen life. Don't we deserve the killer's wrath after this? Are we better than insatiable predators? Those, at least, do not calculate their strikes.

"Tonight Ady said he wanted you to stay," Mir says. And I don't need to ask what he, himself, wants.

The fragment of my skull glints reddish in the hearth's light as I bring it out of my pocket. I inspect it, trying to find the answer that's not there. The rest of my remains are still in this apartment, all I need is to gather all the pieces and burn them.

No one will stop me. On the contrary, they expect me to do it.

And I thought I liked the truth more. This is what I craved--a new life, a new chance, a new beginning--isn't it? And the possibility is closer than ever. But the price? The life of a girl who I've never met. Or mine. A girl who's guilty of one horrible, life-wrecking mistake, but still a human. Or an ex-witch. Let a person die, so I can live, or don't take what's not mine simply because I can... How am I to make the choice?

"Don't dwell on it now," Mir turns to look at me, a wet shine in his eyes. "And for what's it worth, this is on me. Polina's death is on me, Yara, because there's something else I need to tell you. About Vlad. He's--"

"Shut up, Mir."

He obeys. Silence hovers over us, only the ember crackles.

I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. He's right, I can't ponder on it now. Maybe tomorrow never comes, maybe the killer tricks us, and the Soulwrecker will eat my soul instead, then Polina will be the one to survive because her body will be free from my evil spirit?

I don't want to waste this time on talks about crimes, and death, and Vlad.

Tonight, I want to feel alive, wanted, loved. I deserve as much as this night.

"Shut up," I repeat, reaching forward, wiping the tear on Mir's cheek, and pulling him into a kiss. He resists for a moment, confused by my unexpected persistence.

"Tell me to stop," I whisper into his lips. "And I'll--"

"Never." He deepens the kiss, his body relaxing against mine. He tastes like salted caramel. Like winter storm. Like something you're scared of, but desperate to taste. Like a choice I've always been afraid to make.

My choice.

His fingers are confident as they run up my body, sliding under my dress and grabbing my hips. I unbutton his shirt and yank it off. Mir holds his breath when my hands land on the rough skin of the scars on his back. I think he's about to jerk away, but he only presses me harder against his bare chest, breathing into my hair.

His chest is so big and warm.

Heat pools between my legs at the sensation of lips against lips, breath against breath, skin against skin, as our tangled limbs shift and move and struggle to find a comfortable embrace. Mir nibbles my lower lip, holding me so closely and kissing me so fiercely I can barely breathe, it's almost too much. He is not perfect, and this moment is not perfect, lacking dark magic, but it's natural. It's mine.

Tonight, he is mine.

The zipper on his pants and our underwear is the worst part, because to get rid of those, I have to let go of him for a few moments. Because when his skin doesn't touch my skin, I instantly feel cold. Cold and flushed at once. The blankets and our clothes scattered around us, I roll on top of him, pinning Mir to the floor with my thighs. He tries to sit up and flip us around, but I push him back down. I was willing to be someone else with Vlad once, but not anymore. I'm in charge tonight.

My fingers trail down his body, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his muscles flexing and glowing in the light of the fire. The pulse low in my belly throbs when I sink down and my crotch brushes his groin, when Mir's eyes meet mine, bright with anticipation. His one hand is on my back, and the other one reaches down, guiding me further, but I grasp his wrist, stopping him. Teasing or maybe--just maybe--refusing.

Liar, Mir Praejis. He's lied to me so many times I can't count, he deserves my refusal. I shouldn't have chosen him, shouldn't have wasted my time waiting for him to be ready to talk and open up to me, to trust me. But...Too bad, now I know why he's done all that. And in the end, Mir's never betrayed me. He's been saving my life again and again, when others haven't. He can lie, but he will still never fool me, he will never leave me alone in the abyss--that's why...

...I love you, Mir Praejis.

With a smooth motion, I slip him inside me. Mir lets out a sigh of pleasure, and fire rolls over my entire body. This fire is good, it's safe. And it also...hurts. It shoots up from between my legs, tearing me from inside. The pain is so sharp and sudden, I want to cry, but my breathless lungs only manage a whimper.

It takes a second for me to recognize the reason behind this pain. It takes another one to see Mir's eyes widen, mirroring my alarm.

"Yara?" Mir stills beneath me, his hands squeezing my sides and digging into my skin as if trying to protect me from the danger he cannot detect. He doesn't understand what's wrong.

This was Polina's first time.

I should have realized it sooner, it makes sense. And despite the fact that this is my pain, and my moment, and tonight--my body, this is ultimately another thing I've just stolen from her. Mir didn't know, perhaps Kadri didn't know, too, but I cannot forget now. And this is something I can't ever give back or restore. Am I a villain yet?

But I can't give in to the pain, it's too late.

"Don't stop, Mir," I choke out.