Page 12
11
GEMINI
“ K illed your little rabbit yet?”
Leaning over Constantine’s pink cast, black marker in hand, I lift my eyes to hers and grin.
“Why would I ever do such a thing, love?” I drawl mockingly.
We are the first to arrive at the meeting. The boardroom is quiet as we sit around the large quartz table, waiting for the others to finally make an appearance.
Constantine tries to swat my head but misses, and I chuckle as I return to my doodle of a crying clown.
“Don’t be absurd, Gemmie. Killing is the best part,” she muses, stars in her eyes. Then her expression falls, and she pouts. “I miss it.”
I shoot her an amused glance. “Poor little Tin-Tin,” I quip. “Too injured to maim others. How long has it been?”
She crosses her arms and sighs. “At least a week.”
I bark out a laugh, my eyes trained on her cast as I start on a doodle of a snake coiling around a key.
“You don’t usually hold on to them for this long,” Constantine notes, returning to her previous question.
“It’s only been four days, Tinny.”
“And? Your proclivities to boredom are legendary.”
Focusing on drawing the snake’s tongue, I grin. “Touché.” I chuckle softly. “But this one …” I’m not sure how to continue. There’s so much to Veil I can’t explain. She’s like attempting to grab handfuls of mist, and I’m left with nothing but an impression of who she might be. “She’s quite the unexpected enigma, I must admit.”
“Oh?” Constantine replies, curiosity brightening her blue eyes.
I don’t have the chance to elaborate. The echo of footsteps approaching has us both falling silent, our attention now on the entrance. A few seconds later, our most powerful little duo appears. As usual, Mercy is dressed all in black, her dagger peeking from between the slit in her skirt, and Wolfgang has donned a wine-red three-piece suit.
I flash them a jovial smile. “Their magnificences have arrived.”
“There you are!” I announce after unlocking the door of her bedroom.
I find Veil staring out the window. She’s pulled her legs up, her feet tucked under her on the reading chair.
Her shoulders tighten, nervous gaze flitting to mine. My doll has grown less flighty now that a few days have passed, but the fear lingers. The taste still so sweet.
“What were you up to while I was gone?” I ask while I fall onto her bed, facing her. I lean back onto my palms, perching the heel of my boot on the tip of the other.
She gives me a strange look. “Nothing.” She worries her bottom lip before adding, “Maybe I could have a few books to read?
My eyebrows jump in surprise. “Right,” I reply distractedly. “Books.”
Leaping to my feet, I don’t miss the small wince Veil makes due to my sudden movement. I pretend not to notice as I prance up to her chair and offer my hand with a coy smile.
I might not be known for my patience, but for my favorite doll? I’m prepared to wait lifetimes for her to turn malleable under my touch.
“Let’s have a picnic by the water.”
“I’m not hungry,” she says softly, avoiding my gaze.
“Did I ask?” I spit back, my tone slightly harsher than I intended.
Her brown eyes crash into mine, pupils widening as her mouth falls slightly agape. Whatever she sees in my expression has her pinching her lips and delicately placing her palm in mine. With my gaze still on hers, I smile sweetly and press my lips to her hand before pulling her up to her feet.
“Tell me about yourself, pet.”
We’re settled on a quilted blanket under a large oak tree, its leaves shading us from the afternoon sun.
A few pieces of cheese and half-eaten grapes lie abandoned beside us, along with the empty champagne bottle, flipped over in the ice bucket. I carefully paint Veil’s nails a light shade of yellow as she peers at me from under her long eyelashes.
It’s warmer than expected for mid-December, and Veil’s coat has been discarded, pooling around her. Today’s outfit is a cream knit dress, paired with knee-high boots, my family sigil—a snake coiling around a hand—hanging from a thin silver chain from her neck.
“What is there to say?” she finally mutters glumly.
I drag my tongue over my teeth, annoyed at her lack of participation, but keep my expression casual. “Tell me,” I say as I blow on the wet nail polish, “is there any point in keeping you alive if you cannot manage to find one meaningful thing to say about yourself?”
I lift my gaze just in time to catch the fear splashed in her eyes. She tries to take her hand away, but my hold only tightens, careful not to smudge her fresh coat of nail polish.
I smile sweetly. “Now,” I say, “let’s try this again. Tell me about yourself, pet.”
She falls silent, her head turning to the water. Her brown hair tumbles over her shoulder, and I take a moment to count the freckles on her cheeks and nose that have appeared since we’ve been in the sun. Finally, her careful gaze returns to mine while I place her palm on her knee and start on the other hand.
“I was a gymnast and a dancer back in Corutio,” she offers.
I don’t speak for longer than I need to, rolling her answer in my mouth as if I could somehow catch the taste of it. She could be lying. I can’t tell. And a thrill tickles through my veins at that exact fact. It’s partly why she’s my very own puzzle with quite the valuable missing piece.
I might not know much about my Veil Vulturine, but one thing I do know is that she was a gift to me from the gods. Our fates are somehow conjoined, and eventually, the truth will reveal itself to me. It always does.
I let out a small hum before saying, “A petty thief and a dancer? Quite the combination.”
“How would you know that?” she asks quickly.
“What? That you’re a thief? I have eyes, pet,” I answer with a snort.
She stays quiet for a beat. “You watched me.”
“Surprised?” I ask, blowing on her freshly manicured nails.
From the corner of my eye, I see Veil’s gaze turn distant until she speaks again.
“One was for pleasure,” she says. “The other is a compul—” She stops abruptly, as if catching herself. “Necessity.”
Compulsion?
Oh … what is my petty little thief hiding?
I ignore her stumble and finish painting the last nail before looking up. “What else do you do for pleasure, Veil Vulturine?”
I watch her throat work around a hard swallow, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
My, my, my, what a pretty doll I have.
Something about me saying her full name flusters her. I noticed it the first time we had breakfast on the terrace. I now use it sparingly, wanting whatever effect it has over her to last for as long as I can control it.
“Pleasure is a luxury,” she finally answers.
I blow on her nails one final time, but keep her hand in mine while I pin her with my stare.
“Is that so?” I say darkly.
Her chest rises, then falls before she nods. “It is.”
“Who then can afford such a luxury?”
She studies me, a small crease between her brows on her otherwise smooth face. There’s a small tremble in her voice when she answers, “People like you.”
“People like me?” I repeat with a teasing laugh. “Well then,” I say, my smile turning wolfish as my thumb smooths over her knuckles, “lucky for you, I like to share.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50