“This is where she lives?” He nods. I grimace at the furniture around the room. It’s clean, almost obsessively so, but the décor looks fished from the garbage. “Alone?” The mute man nods again. “It’s…quaint. At least it’s tidy.”
“She doesn’t spend a lot of time here. We spend our time training or doing whatever Theia needs done.”
“Speaking of, is that lady, like, Taylor’s mom or her boss? The vibe in there was weird.”
Unfortunately, before he can answer me the front door opens with a clack, giving me a start. Taylor steps around me and claps Hel on the back. “Thank you. I will see you tomorrow.”
Taylor’s marginally more relaxed as she settles into her home. Both her posture and gait are less rigid when she approaches the sad stove and lights a burner, heating up an even sadder-looking teapot. Her hands grip the counter as the blue gas flame kisses the bottom of an off-white kettle. She’s so deep in reflection I almost don’t want to disturb her. Almost.
“So, what, am I your prisoner?” I ask, half-joking, half-annoyed, and completely nervous as I sit down on her couch.
“For now.”
The kettle behind her screams and she snuffs out the flame. The same battered hands that murdered several people calmlyretrieve two tea bags, pouring hot water into mismatched mugs. When she sinks into the chair beside me with a wince and extends one my way, I take it without hesitation. I’m too cold to deny myself an aromatic beverage and too well bred to refuse hospitality.
Under this anemic light we are not illuminated as we were in the mansion, but Taylor’s anxiety radiates from her posture—hunched over and staring unblinking into her mug, fingertips drumming on its ceramic walls. “You understand what I am, what I do. I will not insult your intelligence by elaborating unnecessarily.”
“Thank goodness for small favors.”
“Until Theia says otherwise, you are under my protection so long as you follow the rules of our organization. Please listen carefully, as I will not repeat myself.” Taylor pauses, but my brain is still several seconds behind. “First, you may not exit the compound without me. This is not unusual, as Order members are not permitted outside the grounds unless they have direct orders, which usually come from me. Second, you will be provided a uniform, which must be worn at all times unless instructed otherwise. Third, you may not discuss any details of your involvement in the Order with anyone, including other Order members.”
“’Cause my first instinct was to go knock on doors and introduce myself.”
Taylor presses on with only a subtle eye roll. “Be quiet, follow your orders, and understand that you are our prisoner. You will do as I say, without question.”
Snorting, I take another sip of my tea. “You must be loving this, huh? Does it make you feel powerful to tell me what to do?”
“Miss Piccolo, what I want is to perform my duties without interference or failure. For now, my duty is to keep you alive. Iwill do so as long as I have your complete cooperation. Can you promise me that?”
Sucking in air between my teeth, I shrug. “It’s not like I want to die.”
“Good. Do you have any questions for me?”
Literally hundreds, but I mentally file them in order of what bothers me most. Unfortunately, I’m not very practical. “How did you get into the mansion?”
Taylor expels a tiny snort of amusement. “Your window.”
My eyebrow creeps up. “Excuse me?”
“Your window,” she says, enunciating heavier, as if it was her delivery, and not the ridiculous answer, which was unclear. “Before you returned home, I gained access to the mansion through your bedroom window.”
“How did you know I left?”
“I was watching.” That opens up a whole new slew of questions. Does she know where I go? Who I see? How long has she been watching me? The mixture of curiosity and violation turns my stomach. “I neutralized perimeter threats and temporarily scrambled Force and CO communications.”
“This way if they trip over a body, they couldn’t tell anyone.”
“I did not leave anyone out in the open to be tripped upon. I am not an amateur.” She balks.
“How lovely, you’re so good at killing innocent people doing their jobs.”
Taylor blinks, infuriatingly unperturbed. “They are enemies, Miss Piccolo. Enemies die. It is my job to make sure our enemies die.”
Gulping down another sip of tea, I set it down and struggle to settle my nerves. “I’m your enemy too.”
“Right now, you are my prisoner and under my protection.”
“Protecting me from what? You are the danger I need protection from.” I’m too warm in my anger, despite the draftycabin blowing cold air around us. My jaw tightens. “So, I’m supposed to sleep in this hovel with some lackey cutthroat sociopath while a complete stranger who sent you to kill me decides if I’m worth more as a corpse. This is ridiculous.” In a burst of energy, I rise to my full height. “I demand you bring me back to New York.”
