Gentle rock music played throughout Prima's Art Gallery. Had there always been music playing? I couldn't remember. I walked into this place with a purpose, a mission, and thought of nothing but the pure soul I was supposed to kill. Now that soul poured me tea.

She poured me tea.

"Okay, so, sorry," Priscilla laughed nervously as she poured hot water into the teacup, "I asked for a selection, but all we got is sleepytime." She clicked her teeth, shrugged, and looked at me. "Looking to go to bed anytime soon?"

I glanced up at her face. Her glow was the same as I remembered. White with flecks of gold like the constellations of the stars. It pulsated, radiating around her. I was taught that souls like hers kept the world from sin, so they needed to die. But I remembered her father and the shit of a man he was; her light didn't save him. Instead, it helped me.

My Priscilla lost her life because I couldn't take it from her.

Has everything I've ever been told a lie? Her soul was erased, wasn't it?

"Um, not really." I gulped, lifting my brows. Regardless, I took the teacup. "But if it helps," I shot her a weak smile, "sleepytime tea is a mix of many teas. Chamomile, spearmint, blackberry leaves, the list goes on."

Her face brightened. She didn't know that, did she? It was on the box, but if there was one thing I learned from mortals today, many didn't read the ingredients; they dove in head first and said, 'fuck it.'

It feels nice to talk again and be normal, doesn't it?

"Well, shit," she giddily laughed as she poured herself a cup, "the more you know."

Well, shit, was right.

I couldn't stop smiling as she sat on the chair across from me. It'd spread even with my uneasiness and confusion. When she settled, slowly sipping her tea, her easygoing aura slipped into me, filling me with happiness.

I chuckled as I pointed at her cup. "The tea should steep, you know," I said.

With her lips against the cup's rim, she blinked at me. "It's hot, though."

Lifting my brows, I chuckled. "But is it ready?"

They're going to be looking for you.

Priscilla pushed one hand into the side of her hair as she pouted at her teacup. Her finger traced the top, drawing the moisture on her skin. Passing her hand over the steam, she hummed and sighed. But then she laughed, looking at me again. "Is anything ever ready?"

Either do what you came to do or run far, far away.

There was my Priscilla. She saw possibility in everything, even when there was none. I remember she always believed waiting meant wasting time, and time wasted wasn't something one could get back. It was why I prolonged my original mission and followed her, chased her, and enthralled myself in everything she did because I hadn't been ready. Was I ready now?

"So," Priscilla cupped her hands in front of her and looked into my eyes, "I have this knack for spotting people in trouble."

My eyes widened. As she'd done, I traced the top of my cup. The heat from the steam warmed my palm.

"I wasn't the person who let you in, or I would've seen it then, but when you were looking at those photos," she bit her lip, "I thought I saw something trembling in you."

"In me?"

Pure souls save people. Don't you remember that, Octavio? Priscilla helped you, didn't she?

"Yeah, it's weird, I know." She sighed. "But when I got close to you, and you ran, I thought..." Twiddling her fingers together, she looked like she was trying to find the right thing to say. If only she knew there wouldn't be anything wrong. She could've given me any answer, even if it was bullshit. I would've eaten it up like I'd done back then.

My Priscilla found the good in everything—even me.

Even when she learned the truth, she never ran.

Lifting her head, she gave me a weak smile. "Sometimes artistic people can be lost and look for purpose in the art of others. I kind of thought that was you and those pictures when you were looking at them..." She gave me hooded eyes. "It was like they made you remember something. I'm not trying to pry, but... did you love her?"

My mouth opened slightly. I hadn't thought of Priscilla while looking at those photos; it wasn't until I looked into her eyes. The art on the walls was alluring and sexy, yes, and maybe I missed it. Perhaps I craved it.

"Maybe" isn't the right word to say.

"I don't..." I laughed and lifted the cup to my lips. "I don't know what we're talking about right now."

"That's okay!" She clapped her hands. "I'm just talking. It frees the spirit and brings out the light in people. It's good for the soul, you know."

Sweat sprouted on my brow. I rubbed my fingers together, slowly, passively, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I could've taken the mission from Pride, then gone to sleep. Taken a nap. I could be back at the hotel, readying myself for tonight, for this soul. My mind could be playing tricks on me, right?

This isn't a dream, Octavio. Stop lying to yourself. It never worked.

"Yeah..." I looked down at the cup before lifting it to my lips. "It is good for the soul."

And it would be good for me if I still had one.

An awkward silence fell around us. Uncomfortable for me, not her. She continued to smile and drink her tea, her eyes bright and friendly as she gazed at me. I tried to avoid eye contact. It was the only way I could get my thoughts together. The more I looked at her, the more I thought of the past. And the more I thought of the past, the more I questioned it.

Priscilla was killed in her home; I saw the life leave her as she lay on her bed. Gluttony stopped me from running in; he protected me. I believed a Sin had gone in and taken over the mission when I couldn't. For years, I thought her soul had been given to Him. But with her spirit in front of me, that wasn't the case.

Gluttony is keeping something from me, isn't he?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at my jeans before pulling it out and looked at the screen. Gluttony's name appeared at the top with a message that read—They're wondering what's taking so long. The Soul's heart is still beating.

"Uh oh." Priscilla covered her mouth with one hand. "The look on your face says trouble."

I glanced at her. Was there a look on my face? The message made me angry. I was being timed. Watched. Micro-managed like a bad employee. For what?

I'm being lied to.

"Um, no, I," I took a big gulp from the cup and finished my tea, burn and all, "someone's looking for me."

Her brows shot up. Her mouth formed a small 'o'. Her delicate hands tapped at the table before she bit her lip. "I won't pry again, I swear, but," she reached into her back pocket for a card, "here is my contact information."

I glanced at the business card, pressing my eyebrows together. She laughed. "I know, weird, what person in their twenties walks around with cards, but because we're here," she motioned at the gallery, "I need to do business."

My phone buzzed again.

"So," she tapped the card, "after you handle yours, you can text me, call me, and we can have a real conversation to free your soul."

I bit my lip. The offer was enticing. I planned on taking her up on it. If there was anything I needed more than anything, more than my old seat as Envy, it was to feel free. I sought that feeling for years. And if she was offering, I needed it.

You were never one to say no to anything.

Pushing myself up, I moved the cup toward her and reached for her card. I slipped it between my fingers. As I pocketed it, I caught a whiff of floral perfume. Had she sprayed it? "Thank you," I said, stepping away from the table.

"Of course," she said, standing, too. "Everyone needs someone sometimes."

I bit the insides of my cheeks as I stepped away. I wanted to stay, to forget the mission, even if just for more of a moment. But when I turned toward the gallery's exit and looked back at my phone, the need to forget became second.

Answers were first.

I can't save you again, Octavio, Gluttony's message read.

I shook my head, walking out into the street. "Fucker, no one asked you to."