She sets up her pieces with a practiced hand, then we roll to see who will play first.
“You realize that you’re going to have to tell me something real at some point, right?” The dice tumble out of her hand and she moves her pieces accordingly, making an anchor outside of her base with one set and another outside mine with the other.
I move one of my pieces past all of hers and into my home board. “That’s a risk I can’t take just yet.”
“Isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”
There are so many reasons. I should hate her. Maybe I did once, but that feeling seems to have burned out somewhere in the last few months. When she disappeared, I dreaded starting every day knowing it could be the first of many without her light in it.
It’s my turn again and with her concentration on our conversation, she has left one of her pieces open. I manage to roll just what I need to land on it.
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her legs cross toward me, torso leaned forward with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her fingers touch her bottom lip as her eyes lock on mine. Heaven help me, but she’s fucking gorgeous. “You just made a very big mistake.”
9
KAYE
Idon’t think I’ll ever experience anything like that afternoon spent with Charade. He’s intense, sometimes overwhelming in his familiarity and proximity, but also startlingly normal. We’ve spent so long as enemies that I never considered him as anything else. He’s still demented, but there’s something there I can’t quite define. The way he interacts with his family is endearing. His generosity, even with the person he hates most, is… unexpected.
He reunited me with Apollo. I run my fingers through his silky fur, a deep rumbling purr vibrating in his chest. Of all the debts I owe Charade, this one hits the hardest. If anything had happened to my little fuzzy demon, I don’t know what I would do. But Charade found him.
And saved us both.
We may never be friends, but I can’t deny the new emotion building in my chest. Something that suspiciously feels like respect. That didn’t stop me from decimating him at backgammon. All his thinly veiled threats and mock flirtations only made me more determined to kick his ass in the only way I could.
I had every intention of claiming my prize. Complete access to Charade’s most private areas was an offer too good to pass up. Before my nemesis could make good on his wager, a call came in that had him racing out the door with no explanation. George showed up a minute later to help me find my way back to familiar territory. And to keep an eye on me, no doubt.
What could have made Charade run out like that? Is it something to do with this mysterious figure, C? Whatever happened there, it was personal.
Apollo has fallen asleep at my side and he’s so cute with his whiskered mouth turned to the heavens and his soft tummy fur fluffy and white. I climb out of bed carefully so as not to disturb him, but I shouldn’t have worried. He’s deep in a food coma, his soft little ears twitching as he dreams.
The soles of my shoes tap softly on the floor in the unfamiliar halls. A couple of wrong turns later and I find myself in the now dark grand foyer. The first stars of the night glow in through the windows above the thick wooden front doors. The moon hasn’t risen enough yet to be visible from my perch at the top of the stairs, but I can already tell that it will be a clear, bright night, perfect for a patrol through the city. All I have to do is open the door.
Light fills the foyer, illuminating George’s lithe figure as she pads into view, crisp, white Adidas softening her footfalls. There’s a bounce to her step as she pulls a vintage denim jacket onto her shoulders, a smile lighting her face. She waves her hand over the section of wall just to the right of the doors, above a panel of light switches. It immediately fades to a black rectangle with a blue-lit numbered touch screen console.
I? shift my position just a little bit to the right, giving me a better view of the numbers through the banister’s cutouts. George’s fingers dance over the glass, and I just catch the code.
The banister creaks, and I fall back into shadow as George spins around to peer into the darkness around her. I? freeze, not daring to so much as breathe. Her eyes probe the space for a long moment, long enough for the code to time out. After a moment, she enters it again, this time slipping out the door and closing it behind her.
As I creep down the stairs quickly and quietly, I? start to feel something blooming in my chest, crackling like electricity. It feels right. Good. Like it did when I was still a kid, those first nights when I? snuck out of my parents’ place to fight crime in the city. Reaching the bottom, I? catapult to the panel?—
—And careen into a wooden console table.
My shin bounces off the corner with bruising force, slamming the thin stand into the area behind it and toppling a vase full of flowers onto the floor.
“George?”
With all the grace and agility I? have, I? launch myself back up the stairs. I? just make it back to my spot in the shadows when Angela appears below.
She scans the foyer, eyeing the petals strewn across the damp tile. She steps over them on her way to the line of windows, pulling back the curtain in time to see George’s taillights disappear up the driveway. Turning on her heel with a shake of her head, she disappears back into the hallway again.
I let out a long, shaky breath and cast one last look at the hidden panel and make a mental note to explore it later.
Two minutes after setting foot in the family wing of the manor and I’m already lost. The layout should be similar to the other side of the manor, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. I’m onthe second level, I? think. I? pass staircases that go up and others that go down, each on polar opposite sides from each other. The hallway makes an “I” shape with doors on either side. I try the ones closest to me, but the dusty crystal knobs don’t budge.
Up a set of solid wooden steps leads to even stranger décor. Oil portraits in antique frames form clusters on the walls. The artist managed to capture the smallest details—the soft Cupid’s bowed shape to a mouth, eyes that wrinkle with the same laugh lines and smiles, noses with just the same tilt.
The first room on the right is covered in sapphire blue. It’s on the walls and curtains, the small throw rug by the bookcase, even the ancient-looking bassinet in the corner. A thick layer of dust adorns the myriad of toys and books spread throughout the space. Dusty footsteps mark a path through the opaque film on the floor, circling the room in an arch.
