“What if a fae likes killing?” Phoebe asked.

“Fae who hunt for sport make bad familiars. If the Society can’t rehabilitate them, we have to kill them.”

“Oh.” This conversation wasn’t going where Phoebe wanted.

“If you’re wondering about Silver, then your situation is different. Your bond is different, and he’s no fae.”

“Maybe.” Phoebe rolled the words around in her head. Silver wasn’t a fae, no, he was probably worse. The Consumption binding them together wasn’t doing anything to curb his violent impulses. Visiting the city and reuniting with Mal had been a reprieve, taking her mind off of him a little, even though he was the reason why she couldn't be completely honest with her old friend. And the reason why she wasn't going to Stern's. One of the reasons, at least.

Upon arriving home, the thoughts had come rushing back in fast. It’s not like she wanted what Julia and Yuli had- but what did she want?

Julia flashed her a smile. “How does he make you feel?”

How did he make her feel? The question had been phrased so nonchalantly, it nearly took Phoebe out. Instead of answering, she posed a question of her own: “Do you think he’s killed more people?”

“More then the ones on the train? I think so. Grant’s been looking into it for us, since a lot of Silver’s attacks could be mistaken for fae attacks. I haven’t heard anything from him yet though.” Then she added, “I’m sorry.”

If word came back from the Society that Silver had a pile of other victims, Phoebe wouldn’t be surprised. Especially given the way he acted, with that disgusting little grin on his face-

“Is it bad if I don’t hate him for killing me?” she asked, her tone quiet and flat. Sighing, she added, “I know it’s wrong, but the last two times he hurt me it was after I told him he could.”

Worse, she’d meant it.