Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
. . . The call went straight to Peter's voicemail for the sixth time in a row. I shoved my phone in my back pocket as I groaned aloud.
With a fury loose in town, my mind raced with the worst possible scenarios Peter could've ran into. I'd done some reading on furies back in the library. They were literal creatures from hell that had the sole job of collecting souls who haven't paid the price for magic. The fury could be dragging Peter back to the Underworld at this very moment.
Text messages, phone calls weren't doing anything, I needed to go after him myself, but it would be risky. Before he left to tend to his shop, Gideon warned me he had no doubt in his mind that the fury was after Peter. However, he strongly believes I was in danger as well. I also took a dip in the River of Lost Souls, so technically I could very well be in the same boat as Peter.
All these problems, first Adellia, the nightmares, now the fury, were becoming too overwhelming. Things were supposed to be getting better after we got back from the Underworld, not worse.
Emma left to investigate a lead on the fury while Killian went to pick up Hope from her grandparents'. Though Emma cautioned me to stay inside, I refused to just sit there and do nothing.
I slipped on my jacket as I slammed the door behind me and headed to my car. If I was an egoistical yet emotionally unstable, four-hundred year old man stuck in a roughly twenty-one year old body, where would I go to vent? I sat in my car, hands ready on the wheel, but I had no idea where to go.
Suddenly, the chime of the clock tower made me jump out of my seat. Though Emma's house was a couple miles away from the town square, you could still here the clock tower go off at every hour. Then it hit me. Time was always a touchy subject for Peter. I remembered seeing an elevator in the library, which was right below the clock. It was definitely a long shot, but it wasn't a bad idea.
After I got off the elevator, which only took me half-way, I begun my trek up the stairs and noticed a shadow on the face of the clock. I smiled softly when I reached the top and found Peter sitting on the ground. His knees were up to his chest as he mindlessly traced shapes on the wall.
"Hey," I quietly sat across from him. Peter glanced up at me then tightly shut his eyes. I placed a hand on his knee, "Please don't go."
He opened his eyes to reveal his overly bright green eyes. I released a shaky breath; I hadn't seen Peter so vulnerable since I found out about Brandon's death. "I shouldn't have put so much on you all at once. I'm sorry-"
"Why are you apologizing?" he cut me off. "I was the one who became obsessed with power. I was the one who got sent to the Underworld. I was the one who got myself into this mess. I was the one who hurt you. It should be me apologizing."
His voice cracked when he said the last part. Peter held his face in his hand, refusing to look at me. "You didn't hurt me intentionally. It was in the nightmare, you didn't have control over yourself. Please, Peter, don't blame yourself."
