Attempting to push me away with her body, she rolled her eyes. “Listen, I know what I’m doing. You are going to thank me when you are chowing down on this super-delicious, cake-sized cookie.” Then she gave me a skeptical onceover. “You do eat, right? I mean, I found food in the kitchen, but why would Death eat? That’s kind of dumb.”
“Yes, I eat. I also drink, which you are inspiring to do more of lately.”
Vivien huffed with impatience, as she had the audacity to look short with me. “Well, this place looks barely lived-in. You should appreciate that I’m helping make this place homier with the smell of fresh-baked cookies.”
“Donotclose that oven,” I ordered.
“Jeez, G. You’ve got control problems, did you know that?”
Why was I arguing with her? She was clearly a mental patient in her previous life, which made me the insane one for thinking I could win an argument. Better to just kill her now and make my life easier.
The elevator chimed, and both our heads swiveled to Timothy, who was regarding us with an uncertain look in his eye. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, clearing his throat.
I realized how close I was to Vivien, gripping her arm. Stepping back from her, I said, “No.” My tone was gruff. Timothy’s eyebrows rose.
Vivien narrowed her eyes at me as she shut the oven door on the catastrophe she tried to claim was a baked good. She gave me a triumphant, toothy grin.
Perhaps she wouldn’t be so smug if I threw her over my knee and laid a hand against her backside.
Taking another moment, Timothy regarded us, perhaps trying to read the tension in the room. “I received notice of your meeting tonight,” he said slowly. “Shall I get you both ready?”
Waving my hands at her. “Do something with her,” I said, stalking off to my bedroom where I needed to change, now covered in flour myself.
Because if I stayed any longer,I’ddo something with her, and I wasn’t exactly sure what that would be.
11
Despite my protests, Timothy insisted there was no time for baking and pulled my big gourmet cookie out of the oven. He wrapped the mound with plastic and placed it gingerly in the near-empty fridge, assuring me it would stay there until I was ready to bake it. Then Timothy led me to the spare bedroom where I’d found all the women’s clothes before.
When I crossed my sticky arms, I realized too late they’d glued themselves together. I pretended not to notice. “So what is this meeting?”
Timothy peeled himself away from his tablet long enough to pin me with a wide-eyed expression of awe. “The Oracle. She wants to meet with you and the master.”
Nerves fluttered under my skin at the mention of an Oracle. “Can she help me figure out who I am?” Though I was hesitant to meet any more supernatural beings, I could hear the hope in my question.
Timothy shrugged. “I don’t know. The Oracle called the master directly. If you are going with him, you must have been requested.”
He set down his tablet to pull out two dresses from the wardrobe. “The meeting will be held at one of Sinopolis’s exclusive clubs. Would either of these suit you?” The dress in his right hand was long and flowy, with a silvery sheen of rainbow colors. The one on the left was barely a slip of a dress in shimmery champagne. Both were sugary confections that would brand the wearer as instant arm-candy.
Unsticking my arms with a little effort, I propped my hands on my hips. “Now Timmy. We’ve only known each other a short amount of time, but do I look like a rainbow kinda gal to you?”
In truth, they were both gorgeous gowns, but the idea of having anyone tell me what I should wear made me want to don a trash bag and tape sponges to my feet for shoes. I bet his majesty would blow his top if I did.
Timothy pursed his lips thoughtfully as he rehung them. He’d seemed to catch on that I would be a tough customer. I almost felt bad for him.
A black sheen grabbed my eye. I pushed past him to rub the black fabric between my fingers. “Now this one. This just screams me.”
Timothy paled, unknowingly giving me confirmation that I’d discovered the perfect attire. This getup would shock better than any trash bag.
* * *
Grim could have steppedoff the cover ofGQmagazine and then walked right onto the glossy pages of aPlaygirl. The man didn’t even have to peel off his clothes to rev up a girl’s engine. His majesty had left the top few buttons on his fresh, black shirt open, exposing a tantalizing strip of caramel-colored neck. The charcoal-gray suit had an expensive-looking sheen that made me want to stroke it.
Speaking of strokes, his majesty looked to be having one as he regarded me. His jaw practically hit his chest as he pinned me with a horrified stare.
“You like?” I asked, spinning around.
“Absolutely not,” he growled, his voice echoed with layers of many voices. The air crackled with menace and power. If I hadn’t been so sure he needed to take me to this Oracle chick, I might have worried he’d kill me on the spot. Instead, I smiled wider.
