me—” He shook his head.
“ You don’t think so?” I asked, staring him down. I could feel it: he wanted to turn his gaze sideways, look away from me, but he couldn’t. He wanted to avert his eyes, as though to give the little broken girl in front of him some privacy from the weight of the emotions I knew were oozing off me, but his training wouldn’t let him look away from a potential threat. So he kept staring at me and I kept staring right back at him. I had nothing but accusation in my glare; his, in return, was fading.
“ You shoulda approached faster,” he said, and the slurring was getting worse. “Shoulda burst through the front of the house with a truck—”
“ I didn’t have a truck.”
“ Shoulda stolen one,” he went on, swallowing heavily. “Break through the front of the house, odds are good you’d have taken me out before I could get clear. If not, the element of surprise would have been worth it. Or a sniper rifle from a distance—you always were a hell of a marksman—”
“ I didn’t want to do it like that,” I said.
“ Because you couldn’t be bothered to plan it out like you should,” he said, and I could see him starting to sweat, “you’re sitting here staring down the barrel of a shotgun when you oughta be looking at my corpse from a half-mile away.”
“ It was never gonna be like that,” I said calmly and took a step to my right, leaning against the kitchen counter. He swept the shotgun barrel to keep me covered. I had taken a step in the direction of my gun, and with the waggle of the barrel, I knew if I took another he was going to pull the trigger. I watched his eyes, and it was hard to know if that was an empty threat or if he was serious. I wasn’t going to test it. “You know I have trouble killing people. Always have, ever since Gavrikov—”
“ It’s a weakness I would have trained out of you, sooner or later,” he said, taking a hand off the barrel to wipe the perspiration off his forehead.
“ It’s funny,” I said. “Because I killed Wolfe to save my own life, and I killed Gavrikov to save the city because I owed them for what Wolfe did. Do you know how many people he killed to get to me?” I watched as Parks shook his head, slowly. “Two hundred and fifty-four. Men, women, children. From those first two guys outside the supermarket to the last family he slaughtered before he came to get me in my own basement, he killed two hundred and fifty-four people. I remember the number. It echoes in my head.” I felt something in my mind from Wolfe, a vague sense of glee, and ignored it.
“ You didn’t cause that,” Parks said, and brushed the gray hair out of his eyes where it was starting to mat on his forehead. He blinked his eyes, twice, but the shotgun stayed level.
“ I did, actually.” I put my palms flat on the counter behind me, resting them in plain sight, where he could see them. “By my inaction, I caused those people to die. If I had stepped up sooner, some of them would still be alive. So I’m responsible.” I turned my voice more chipper. “Like you, with Zack’s death. You’re responsible. You, Clary, Eve—I know she wasn’t there, but let’s be honest, she would have been involved in a heartbeat if she had been—Bastian, Winter … and me. You all took Winter’s orders, and you carried them out, and let my power do its work. Zack’s dead, the rest of us are all alive.” My eyes narrowed. “I intend to correct that imbalance.”
He let out a ragged breath. “You’ve already failed. Maybe if you’d planned better—”
“ My plan’s going just fine,” I said coolly and looked to my right. The gun was still there. Out of reach.
He watched me eye the Walther and pulled up his grip on the shotgun, tightening the butt of it against his shoulder. “You’ve got a gun pointed at you after you failed to breach properly. If that was part of your plan, then I’m afraid I’ve misjudged you.” He let out a long
“ You don’t think so?” I asked, staring him down. I could feel it: he wanted to turn his gaze sideways, look away from me, but he couldn’t. He wanted to avert his eyes, as though to give the little broken girl in front of him some privacy from the weight of the emotions I knew were oozing off me, but his training wouldn’t let him look away from a potential threat. So he kept staring at me and I kept staring right back at him. I had nothing but accusation in my glare; his, in return, was fading.
“ You shoulda approached faster,” he said, and the slurring was getting worse. “Shoulda burst through the front of the house with a truck—”
“ I didn’t have a truck.”
“ Shoulda stolen one,” he went on, swallowing heavily. “Break through the front of the house, odds are good you’d have taken me out before I could get clear. If not, the element of surprise would have been worth it. Or a sniper rifle from a distance—you always were a hell of a marksman—”
“ I didn’t want to do it like that,” I said.
“ Because you couldn’t be bothered to plan it out like you should,” he said, and I could see him starting to sweat, “you’re sitting here staring down the barrel of a shotgun when you oughta be looking at my corpse from a half-mile away.”
“ It was never gonna be like that,” I said calmly and took a step to my right, leaning against the kitchen counter. He swept the shotgun barrel to keep me covered. I had taken a step in the direction of my gun, and with the waggle of the barrel, I knew if I took another he was going to pull the trigger. I watched his eyes, and it was hard to know if that was an empty threat or if he was serious. I wasn’t going to test it. “You know I have trouble killing people. Always have, ever since Gavrikov—”
“ It’s a weakness I would have trained out of you, sooner or later,” he said, taking a hand off the barrel to wipe the perspiration off his forehead.
“ It’s funny,” I said. “Because I killed Wolfe to save my own life, and I killed Gavrikov to save the city because I owed them for what Wolfe did. Do you know how many people he killed to get to me?” I watched as Parks shook his head, slowly. “Two hundred and fifty-four. Men, women, children. From those first two guys outside the supermarket to the last family he slaughtered before he came to get me in my own basement, he killed two hundred and fifty-four people. I remember the number. It echoes in my head.” I felt something in my mind from Wolfe, a vague sense of glee, and ignored it.
“ You didn’t cause that,” Parks said, and brushed the gray hair out of his eyes where it was starting to mat on his forehead. He blinked his eyes, twice, but the shotgun stayed level.
“ I did, actually.” I put my palms flat on the counter behind me, resting them in plain sight, where he could see them. “By my inaction, I caused those people to die. If I had stepped up sooner, some of them would still be alive. So I’m responsible.” I turned my voice more chipper. “Like you, with Zack’s death. You’re responsible. You, Clary, Eve—I know she wasn’t there, but let’s be honest, she would have been involved in a heartbeat if she had been—Bastian, Winter … and me. You all took Winter’s orders, and you carried them out, and let my power do its work. Zack’s dead, the rest of us are all alive.” My eyes narrowed. “I intend to correct that imbalance.”
He let out a ragged breath. “You’ve already failed. Maybe if you’d planned better—”
“ My plan’s going just fine,” I said coolly and looked to my right. The gun was still there. Out of reach.
He watched me eye the Walther and pulled up his grip on the shotgun, tightening the butt of it against his shoulder. “You’ve got a gun pointed at you after you failed to breach properly. If that was part of your plan, then I’m afraid I’ve misjudged you.” He let out a long
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