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She looks irritated, which gives me the stupid urge to do something that will please her just so she'll stop looking at me like that.
I expect her to come up with some other reason to hold me hostage but she just says, “You certainly can.” As usual, she hands me the money.
My heart has picked up its pace. She's really just letting me walk away?
“Okay, then that's what I’m doing.”
Usually, this would be an excellent moment to end the conversation and leave but we're still not at the fake address I gave her so I have to sit and stew. I look determinedly out of the window until a long sigh catches my attention.
When I look over, Celeste is watching me. “Fine,” she says. “Why do you want out? Do you want more money?”
Is more money an option?!But no, that's not as tempting as I thought it would be. “I just don't want to be involved in what Charon's Veil is doing.”
My vampire eyes recognize the almost imperceptibly brief, surprised raise of an eyebrow before her face returns to its usual mask. “And here I thought I was the problem.”
I shake my head. After sitting in silence for a moment, I say, “When you said that witch blood was worth a lot of money, I kind of took that as a metaphor.”
She scoffs. “Oh, no. There's a whole market out there.”
“So I’m right, that’s what they're selling?”
“That’s part of the equation, anyway.”
I cross my arms. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't think it mattered to you.”
“You didn't think I cared whether what I was doing was exploiting people for their blood?”
For the first time since I got into the car it seems like she's really seeing me. “You do realize that you're avampire, right?”
“That doesn't mean I agree with this! The girl whose blood I picked up today lookedsosick. It was awful.”
Celeste lights herself some Ghostshade and I don't have the wherewithal to tell her how much the stuff stinks. “Let me guess,” she says. “The one actually taking it was her boyfriend?”
I grimace. “Her mother.”
“Hmmm. Not as unusual as you'd think.”
“I don’t understand this. Why would anyone do that to themselves?”
“They don’t do it to themselves, kitten. Usually, it’s someone they love and trust. Someone they depend on who takes advantage.” Celeste takes a deep inhale. “And what happens if they leave? They often have no other support system, so they'd end up homeless or dead.”
I sink deeper into my seat, kicking my knees up against the seat in front. “What part about me not wanting to be involved in this surprised you again?”
“Working for me doesnotmean being a part of it. I’m looking to sabotage rather than participate in their operation. I thought that was obvious.”
I shake my head. “It’s not only that, though. It’s…” I can’t find the right words. It’s Casey and Welfare Services and Alastor. It’s texting Mav when he doesn’t make it home to make sure he’s not dead somewhere. Checking out underpasses that might be safe to sleep under. “I feel like it’s this whole damn city. Like there’s this total sum of misery that we all share and your only option to be less miserable is to pass yours on to someone else.”
I think of my night at the Myrrh & Adder, tightening my hands in the fabric of my jumper. “My options are either be taken advantage of or take advantage myself. I can keep working at the Myrrh & Adder and suffer, or do this job selling witch blood and improve my own situation by taking advantage of theirs. But I don’t want to do that, I just don’t think it’s right.” Self-conscious about my rambling, I fix my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me. “I guess it doesn’t make sense. I just don’t want to do it, alright?”
When she doesn't respond for a while, I look up to find her watching me. She’s smiling, though it certainly isn’t a happy smile.“That was surprisingly insightful, for a vampire. And I know how you feel.”
I scoff.Alright, whatever you say, lady-who’s-being-carted-around-by-a-chauffeur.“If I had your kind of money, I wouldn’t feel like this. Then I could do something about it.”
She looks thoughtful for a while, just smoking and watching the city pass through my window. Then she pushes the stump into the ashtray and says, “You want to do something about it? Fine. How about a promotion?”
6. THE LAST THING ANYONE NEEDS IS RIVERSIDE MUCK IN THEIR BULLETWOUNDS
