Poison's Kiss (Poison's Kiss #1)(10)

Mani is curled on his purple cushion reading again, and Japa seems to have disappeared. I busy myself straightening books and hope Deven will forget I’m here. He doesn’t.

He comes up beside me and touches my arm—in the exact same place, as if the physical contact is a vital part of whatever he has to say. My breath feels lodged in my throat, because I want to shake him off and at the same time I never want him to stop touching me. No one ever touches me. Not like this, all affectionate and casual and unafraid.

“Marinda,” he says again. “Are you and Mani—are you okay?” I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t this. The back of my neck feels hot and I can’t meet his gaze. I thought for just a minute…I thought…

“We’re fine,” I say.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because you don’t seem—it doesn’t seem…”

I can’t have this conversation. There are a dozen reasons why I can’t have this conversation, and all of them are life-threatening. I have been careless and now Mani and I can’t ever come back here again.

I touch Deven’s arm in the same place he touched mine. He is warm and I can feel the curve of muscle beneath my fingers. A little pang of sadness shoots through me, but I force myself to smile, to make eye contact. “Really, Deven, we’re fine.” It hurts a little to say his name, because I’ve never said it out loud before and now this is goodbye.

Deven’s brow furrows. “Marinda, you can trust me. I—”

“Time to go, Mani,” I say cheerfully, cutting him off. Mani sulks as he puts the book back on the shelf. My heart is thudding against my rib cage. Stay calm, I tell myself over and over. Calm. Calm. Calm.

“Japa,” I call with too much brightness in my voice. “I’m leaving now.”

Japa emerges from the storeroom and looks around. “The shop looks amazing,” he says. “I can’t believe what you’ve done.”

He’s grateful for the cleaning, but his words hit me at an odd angle. Because I can’t believe what I’ve done either. I embrace Japa more fiercely than usual before I say goodbye. And then Mani and I walk out of the bookshop for the last time.



I hold it together until we get outside, and then I can’t stop myself from shaking. What have I done? I let Deven notice me and he noticed too well, too much. I feel like a fool. What did I think? That he would ask me on a picnic? That he would invite me to dine with him under the stars? Stupid. I could tell as he looked at me and Mani that something felt off to him. I’ve piqued his curiosity, and that is the worst violation of tradecraft. I am supposed to be invisible. My life depends on it.

A sharp pain shoots through my jaw and I realize I’ve been grinding my teeth. I take a deep breath and slow down. I’ve been rushing, moving way too fast for Mani. I glance over at him, but he’s having no trouble keeping pace with me.

“Hey, monkey,” I say, “how are you feeling?”

“Really good,” he says, searching my face. “What’s wrong?”

I try to force cheer into my voice. “Nothing,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”

“Your neck is all splotchy—that’s what always happens when you’re upset.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, I was reading a book today with a very distressing scene, so maybe that’s it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, I’m not four years old.”

That startles a laugh out of me, which makes Mani giggle, and soon we are both cracking up. It’s the kind of laughter that often follows tension—exaggerated, as if that can somehow compensate. I don’t knock when we get to our flat, just slide my key into the lock and open the door.

I stop laughing.

Gopal is here. He stands in the center of the room, his hands clasped in front of him. Each of his thick arms is tattooed with a black snake, the tail starting at his elbow and the body coiled round and round his arm until the head of the snake bites the inside of his wrist with sharp fangs. “Hello, Marinda,” he says.

Seeing Gopal always makes me feel like I have been caught doing something wrong. Mani’s grip on my hand tightens.

“Nice to see you, Gopal,” I say, though it isn’t. He smirks like he can see my thoughts, and a shiver dances up my spine.

“I need to speak with you,” he says, and motions for me to follow him outside.

“But Mani—”

“Gita will look after your brother.”

Gita is sitting silently at the table, her arms folded across her stomach. I didn’t notice she was here. A small clay pot sits on the table in front of her along with the bottle that holds the medicine used to make Mani’s breathing treatment—it’s the same unspoken threat as always. We exchange a glance and she gives me a small nod. I kneel in front of Mani. “I have to go for a bit, but I will be back soon, okay?” Mani bites on his lower lip, and I can see the fear in his eyes. Gopal terrifies him, and Gita is only marginally better. I fold him in an embrace and whisper against his ear, “I won’t be long, I promise.”

I follow Gopal outside. He begins walking and I fall into step at his side, waiting for him to speak. He reaches for my hand, and it takes everything I have not to flinch. When I was a little girl, Gopal held my hand wherever we went, the head of his snake tattoo pressed tightly against my skin. It used to give me nightmares, imagining those fangs sinking into the soft inside of my wrist, sucking out blood and replacing it with venom.