Page 71 of Till Death

“Don’t kill him, Maiden. If you fail… if you try…”

I let those words fall over me for a second. “If I tried to kill every evil person in this realm, there would be few left standing. Everyone is someone else’s villain. I’m not going to kill him. I’m not even going to try. Because if he dies, so must Visha and those that do their bidding, and down and down we go, until there’s no line. If I’m going to do anything for this world, it won’t be by leaving a trail of bodies. But the next time you wonder why I care about finding the Life Maiden, just remember where your mind jumped when you considered my next move. I’m always only going to be the murderer. Until I’m not.”

She stumbled over her words, snapped her mouth shut, and nodded, her beautiful face solemn.

“Orin’s already getting the sour end of his deal. If I can’t save him, then maybe I can save the rest of you the trouble.”

She kept close to my side as we approached the house. The carriage was empty, but the door was wide open. When we entered, Elowen’s quivering voice could be heard from the kitchen. I removed the strap holding Chaos in place, locking eyes with Paesha. She shook her head, glancing down at my readied hand.

A great, big laugh, overly dramatic, as if the man stood on a stage, filled the house. Drexel Vanhoff sat at the kitchen table, his red mustache perfectly coiled, Hollis’s most recent suit fitting his broad shoulders perfectly. None of his fineries were enough to distract from the scar on his cheek. The fake smile on his ridiculous face wavered when his dark brown eyes fell to my hand. “There’s our girl.”

The possessive look in his eyes, the way they glistened with desire, shook me to my core. His power, not his magic, but just his ability to fill a room with fear was palpable. Elowen gripped the edge of the counter, forcing a smile, though she couldn’t have been cowering any further away.

“There’s tea,” she managed, a tremble behind the façade. “Can I get you a glass, Deyanira? Paesha?”

“No.” I glared, forcing myself to be strong in a moment when years of cultivated fear should have warned me to play nice. “What do you want?”

The smile, disgusting and so over the top, never wavered. “I came to visit my friends.”

“The people who live in this house are not your friends. They are your prisoners, Drexel.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I see you’ve taken on your father’s eloquent way with words. But you’re wrong, Maiden.” Challenge filled his eyes before he shouted, “Quill, my darling, please come here.”

Ice slid down my side as the child bound into the kitchen, arms full of dog. Her genuine smile next to that of the serpent was sickening. One look at Drexel and Boo began to struggle in Quill’s arms until he wrestled free and darted behind me. A low rumble in his throat as the Maestro laid a heavy hand on Quill’s shoulder.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked the child, voice softening as he nodded, coaxing the answer.

She tucked herself into his side, agreeing. “Of course, we are.”

The serpentine look on his face as he looked back at me turned my stomach, hardening the veins in my body as fury coaxed Death’s magic from slumber. With a wary gaze shifting between the two of them, I felt more than saw Elowen slowly slip out of the room. But Paesha took her place, moving to my side.

Drexel chuckled. “One day, Huntress, you will look upon me without defiance.”

“Perhaps,” she answered, crossing her arms, but she softened the second she looked at Quill.

“Be a dear and go retrieve that secret ledger you found four weeks ago. Don’t be seen and try to avoid the man at the back door this time. I expect you to be in my office in two hours.”

She held her place for only seconds. There was a battle spoken between them as she tried and failed to resist the pungent magic seeping from Drexel. Something in the way he commanded her felt so familiar. And I hated every step that forced her out of the room and out of the house. Though likely a mundane task to send her away, she had no choice. It was only then that I realized she and I were not so different.

“Quill,” I said sweetly. “Take Elowen and Boo to the garden and show them that new flower we found growing by the peonies. Tell her the story you made up about how it got there.”

“But I?—”

“You may go,” the Maestro purred, giving her the leave she would not take from me.

When the room was empty, the smile dropped. “Sit, Deyanira. We have much to discuss.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

“What do you want?”

“First, I want you to take that hand off the knife on your thigh. I am not your enemy.”

“You are not my anything.”

The smile returned as he leaned back in the wooden chair, forcing it to creak. He placed a gloved hand onto his cane and heaved himself from the table to come near.