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I swallowed.Untidy? Not impossible, merely untidy. What did it take to be so arrogant that you thought even the non-humans united would be merelyuntidy?
I could not imagine such a thing.
Admittedly, I’d killed a lot ofdraugr, but I’d come to realize that they weren’t all bad—or maybe Beatrice simply kept them in order, so I saw that side of them now. Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Slaughter on a widescale seemedbad, though. That part, I knew for sure.
“I could kill the prince, ending your life that way,” Chester continued as if musing idly. “Again, I thinkdraugrand fae would unite to attempt to strike me. It is not your death that is inconvenient, simply the consequences. . . which brings us to the dilemma that prompted our appointment here today.”
He stared at me, as if I was to participate in his monologue. What was I to say, though? I wasn’t exactly onboard with my death.
Several moments passed in silence, and I had to remind myself that threatening him wasnotthe solution I was seeking. He was such a piss-ant of a man, though. The first time I’d seen the son-of-a-weasel in person was when he’d been at Tomes and Tea arguing with Jesse—and then, I’d thought him merely obnoxious.
The next time we’d crossed paths was when he was shredding files at thedraugr-run spa last summer. By then, I knew he was something more than I’d realized when the king ofElphameobjected to me striking him. Chester—a suit clad, briefcase carrying, plain-looking man—was singing a sea shanty, and his interest in me resulted in the king threatening to kill me, even if it meant killing Eli, to protect his people from Chester.
Sometimes the worst monsters hide in plain sight, dressed like regular men.
If I had any doubts as to his heinousness, Chester clarified matters when he left the queen ofdraugrbloodied and bruised.
Whatever else he was, Chester was not predictable. He’d created a persona of being harmless, an accountant-type-of-guy—but before all of that, he’d murdered Iggy and handed Beatrice over to die in an attempt to create a hybrid.
Now he was my captor.
Nothing about this situation was looking good, and no amount of common sense was left in my mind when I grinned at him.When all the logical paths are gone, it’s time to try the illogical ones.Chester, for all that I didn’t know, was obviously fond of order, structure, control, which meant I wanted to take that away.
“Do thegood sistersknow what you are?” I asked.
Chester graced me with a chilling look. “Doyou?”
I repressed a shudder. I didn’t. I had pieces I’d spliced together, but that was the best I had. And none of those pieces left me with a lot of hope for escape. He frighteneddraugrand fae and the Hexen Master.
And I was his captive.
“What would it take to convince you to set me free?” I asked, not because I wanted to negotiate, not because I wanted to align with him in any way, but because my death would mean Eli’s death. That was all the motive I needed to bite my tongue and attempt civility.
“That’s better,” Chester said, sounding like he was talking to a dog that learned to roll over.
I ground my teeth in irritation.Not your bitch, Chester.I let myself think the words I couldn’t yet say out loud. I’d try to negotiate, but there were limits to how far I was able to be broken, and he was getting close to finding them.
I didn’t want my spouse to die because I was careless, but there was some wiggle room between careless and surrender. I just needed to find it.
9
ELI
By the time Eli walked into the house—hoping to find Geneviève asleep or distracted—he was approaching panic.
“Geneviève? Are you here?” he called.
Instead, he found her assistant, the indominable Alice Chaddock, at the counter in the kitchen. Finding Allie there was more commonplace than not. She took her role as Geneviève’s caretaker, assistant, and food sourceveryseriously. What was not typical was seeing silicone trays in the shapes of penises, hearts, and skulls. Dozens of tiny phalluses were filled with blood.
“Alice?”
“Where’s Geneviève?” Allie looked around as if she was with him. That answered Eli’s question on whether she was here.
“Not with me, which is—"
“I need to talk to her about . . . things.” Alice fluttered her hands around. She was uncommonly agitated.
“If by ‘things,’ you mean why you are making blood cubes, I would like that information, as well, but first—”
