Hermes felt his chest tighten, eyes locked on the beetle sprawled across the bed. No sign of Samuel Gregor anywhere else. Just this… thing.
"You… you little—" Hermes muttered, clenching his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. "Trying to get sympathy? Preying on your family's fear?"
The beetle shivered, its weak, tremulous voice carrying a strange, eerie tune.
Take me out to the ball game…
Hermes froze. The sound was soft, almost human, coming from the creature itself. His throat went dry, disbelief clawing at him.
"W-What…?" he whispered, staring. "Are you… singing?"
The beetle's voice continued, frail, trembling with effort:
Take me out with the crowd…
Hermes's fingers tightened around the doorknob he had left behind, jaw clenching. He felt the familiar surge of anger and betrayal… the same feeling he'd felt when Eirwyn had begged for help only to turn on him. It twisted in his chest like a knife.
