When Bia’s melodic voice chimes in from slightly closer, I recognize the other voice as the Meinad’s. “And a thief.”
“The Marduk knows you already have it, and if you don’t deliver it when and where he told you to meet him,ournext meeting won’t be so pleasant.” The giggling makes me shiver, even where I’m sitting on my comfy couch in my warm apartment building.
The sounds on my camera fade out after that, and in the picture, I see Taranis whoosh by overhead without once looking down to even check to see if either of the men on the ground who’d come here with him—to protect him—were still breathing.
As I sit back, heart hammering with realizations, two things become abundantly clear to me:
Vanessa was right. I should never have taken this contract.
And Taranis is, indeed, a bad person.
In fact, I’d go so far as to call him a villain.
Chapter Five
Taranis
“You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“I haven’t booked all of her time, only some of it, and only at my discretion.”
“Still, having a photographer on your heels half the time could be a problem.”
“You let me worry about myproblems. You worry about yours. You’re not any closer to crushing the humans and bringing in the Elders, and it’s only been, what? Twenty-two years?”
The world’s most notorious supervillain shifts in his seat like he’s too large for it. The Marduk is the biggest fucker I’ve ever seen, short of the reverted Wyvern. Meaty around the trunk, meaty in the neck, meaty in the arms and thighs, and covered in tattoos, he looks like he could throw a car. Luckily for me, I’m on his side. At least until his side ceases to serve me.
He pulls on his long, blond beard. The tattoos on his white skin look ghastly, but he’s clearly not one to give a fuck about his appearance. He watches me with narrowed black eyes. His eyes are always black whenever he sees me. Mine, however, remain a neutral purple. Hate me all he likes, I don’t have the energy to hate him. Inothinghim, just like I nothing most everything and everyone.
“You don’t even want your true Tratharine form back,” he sneers.
True and false. I want the power that comes with reverting to my native alien form, but I do enjoy the perks this human face gives me. Still, I smile and lie, “What can I say? Monster isn’t my dream look.”
“It’s your true face.”
“This one takes me places.”
“Burn it.”
“My face? Nah. Like I said, I’ll keep it, thanks.”
“Burn down the world that it gives you.”
“That was supposed to be the Wyvern’s job as the first among us to revert, and since you and your little minions failed to convince him to join your side, it looks like you’ll have to find another way to overthrow humanity and open the portal that allows your Elders to pass through.”
The Marduk growls and leans forward in his flimsy seat. He slams his fists down on the intricately tiled table, which groans underneath his unwavering grip. “OurElders. Just because you forsake your Tratharine past doesn’t mean it will not catch up to you.”
It’s four a.m. and the coffee shop we’re at is empty. It’s owned and operated by an Ethiopian woman with braids in her hair and a skip in her step. She is so cheery it feels like a slight. The only thing that makes it possible to overcome is the fact that the skips in her steps falter every few feet when she trips over something. She is tall, no curves to speak of—unlike Monika, who has curves for days. The young Ethiopian woman is also gangly and clumsy. The Marduk doesn’t seem to notice her at all even though she’s the only other person here.
“The past is not so interesting to me as the future,” I confess, shaking off thoughts of Monika and her lush curves spattered in blood as she hauled herself up onto the station platform, crawling out of the dark. I ... hadn’t expected that. “I want freedom from these humans.”
“Then we want the same thing. It’s just a shame the Meinad and Bia needed to remind you I’m not to be fucked with.” His gaze moves over my face, where I still bear lingering scars from where that fucking dickhole scratched the shit out of me. The scars will fade completely ina few days, but I can’t say I’m not annoyed. Especially considering that I’m going to the fucking South Korean Embassy party on Friday and I don’t particularly want to be photographed looking like Scar.
I clench my teeth, disliking the implication that I’m a wild thing needing to be tamed—or worse, a toddler needing a time-out—and place my hand flat and meaningfully on the colorful tiled table between us. “I’m only here because you’re a fucking psycho who coordinates his clandestine takeover of the entire world at the crack of dawn on a Monday morning from a coffee shop.”
My gaze moves over his shoulder to the woman as she busies herself around her shop like we’re not even here. The Marduk and I have met here a few times already, and though it confused the shit out of me the first time I met him here, and not at his more sinister-looking lair down at the old docks, I’ve never asked him about it. Annoyed, I lean forward and watch the woman trip over the leg of a chair before frowning down at it, smiling, giving it three pats like it’s a small dog, and returning it to its place.
“Did you hypnotize her?” I say.
