Belladonna lets out a dry chuckle, but her gaze is fixed on me, a delicate hand perched atop her crossed knee. She’s just as mesmerizingly beautiful as ever in her silver satin shirt, white pencil skirt, and red stilettos. Her green eyes hold the same bottomless depth as the ocean.
I turn awkward, but she casually waves to an empty seat, and I take the invitation, sitting on the chaise beside hers.
A tense silence settles between us four, and my intuition tells me that conversation wouldn’t be so strained if I wasn’t here.
Constantine takes a sip of tea, her lace-gloved pinkie primly raised, before she asks, “So, you can steal our powers?”
Her question is innocent, but I feel the air shift once again. Three suspicious pairs of eyes fix on me while I deliberate how to answer.
I decide on the blunt truth. “Yes.”
Constantine’s mouth falls open, as if she’s barely containing her excitement, blue eyes sparkling. She bounces in her seat. “Do me! Do me!”
“Tinny,” Mercy interjects, her voice stern, as if scolding a child.
I’m surprised by the lethal stare Constantine sends Mercy; it’s quick and gone in a flash, but it sends a chill down my spine. It’s as if unexpectedly glimpsing her true nature—the one behind all the pink and bubbly personality.
“She’s aservant,” Constantine says slowly. “Let her act like one.” Her voice is devoid of warmth, and I can’t do anything else except stare at Mercy to gauge her reaction.
Her upper lip curls into a subtle grimace as she looks away and crosses her legs. When she brings her attention back to Constantine, she says, “I’m notdoinganything.”
I’m hyper-aware that they are discussing me as if I weren’t in the room with them, but I don’t dare interrupt. After a lengthy pause, Belladonna starts to laugh softly, breaking the tension. But Mercy doesn’t seem to approve of the shift in tone and pinches her lips at her.
“And you,” she says hotly, “why did Gemini tell you before me?”
Mercy doesn’t spell it out, but I can still sense the wordless implication that the two aren’t as close as her and Gemini.
Belladonna’s smile drops. Her gaze slices to me, then back to Mercy. The silence has time to curl and slither around us before she says, “It’s not for me to say,” then quickly adds, “and frankly, it has nothing to do with you.”
Premonition prickles at my nape. She’s holding on to one of Gemini’s secrets, and it must have something to do with me. I have the ridiculous thought of falling to my knees and begging her to tell me, but thankfully, Constantine interrupts my train of thought.
“Macaron?”
I stare at the offered plate of pastries for a few seconds too long. Finally, I choose a lavender macaron and take a bite while the stuffy silence returns.
“So tell me about your first kill.”
It’s Constantine again. And for a split second, I think she’s joking, but the innocent expectation on her face indicates otherwise.
I swallow my bite, suddenly wishing I were anywhere but here. “I’ve never killed anyone.”
“Never?” Mercy repeats, wrinkling her nose at my response.
I sneak a glance at Belladonna, and she’s sporting a similar expression.
“I would have thought after last night …” she starts.
I shake my head, confirming that the man I attacked is still alive—if barely.
“Well then,” Constantine says with a honeyed laugh, “we must rectify this immediately.”
“That’s not necessary,” I respond awkwardly.
“Nonsense. Killing is the best part of living,” she says flippantly. “You poor thing — you’ve missed out on so much!” She sucks in a sharp gasp while her gaze skates around the room. “Why don’t we come with you? Wouldn’t that be so fun?”
Feeling whiplash by this odd turn in the conversation, I fail to find the right words to politely decline her invitation.
“I’m sure Gemini would want to share such a moment with Veil — don’t you think?” Belladonna says before taking a slow sip of tea.
