This Wicked Fate (This Poison Heart #2)(18)

I nudged her shoulder, and she opened the rear door so I could get in.





CHAPTER 4

An hour later we pulled onto a darkened street just outside downtown Albany. The narrow street butted up to a park dotted with hearty maples and towering oaks. As I climbed out of the car, a familiar groan emanated from the green space. The trees twisted toward me, their boughs searching for me in the dark. I took a deep breath and let the air hiss out between my teeth. The trees swayed in the windless night air.

“They know we’re here,” Circe said.

It took me a second to remember that I wasn’t alone in this anymore. I had someone who had the exact same abilities as me and who knew what it was like to live with them every day.

“They only want to be near us,” Circe said. She stepped onto the grass, and a patch of canary yellow daffodils bloomed under her feet. “Has it been hard for you to keep them in check?”

“For a really long time I couldn’t go anywhere without feeling like the grass and the trees were going to give it all away,” I said. “And I make myself sick—headaches, nausea—all from trying to keep it bottled up.”

Circe came back over to me. “How has it been since you’ve been in Rhinebeck? Do you think it’s easier to control out there?”

“It’s not so much the town,” I said. “It’s that I stopped trying to fight it. When I let it all go and just lean into it …” I wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling. “It’s like breathing—like I’m doing something I’m supposed to do.”

“Embracing it will be the best thing you’ve ever done for yourself,” she said. Then she raised an eyebrow and gave me a little smirk. “And with the way things are going it might be your best weapon, too.”

In my head, images of roots breaking through the apothecary floor and winding themselves around Mrs. Redmond played on a loop.

“This is the place,” Marie said. She had turned her attention to the brownstone directly across the street. “My contact has been living here for a few years now. He moved here from Ithaca thinking he could keep a low profile, but I showed up at his door the same day the movers were carrying his couch inside.”

“He didn’t want you to know he moved?” I asked.

“Guess not. But ask me if I care what he wants.” She grinned. “He likes to keep things quiet. He used to deal in stolen artifacts and still has a lot of contacts in the trade. It makes him vulnerable, but it also comes in handy when I’m trying to get some of this stuff back to where it belongs. He moved because he didn’t like me popping up on him and making sure he hadn’t fallen back into his old ways.” She gazed up at the building. “I hope he didn’t do what I think he did.”

I had a feeling things were about to get extremely awkward once we got inside.

The streetlights were on and cast long columns of light across the sidewalk. The narrow brick building rose up three stories and was accented with pointed arches and an intricate round portico over the front door. The shutters were drawn in the large bay window that overlooked the street, but a light was on somewhere inside, casting a muted yellow haze through the glass.

“Do we just ring the bell?” Circe asked, turning to Marie. “Something tells me this guy is not gonna be happy to see you.”

“Who wouldn’t be happy to see me?” Marie asked. Her voice dripped with syrupy-sweet sarcasm.

She mounted the front steps and rang the bell as Circe and I stood at her back. There were footsteps inside, a pause, and then the curtain covering the rectangular stained glass window in the door moved aside, revealing a man’s face. Plastered across it was an expression that could be nothing other than absolute dread.

Marie leaned toward the glass. “Open the door before I kick it in.” She gripped the handle, and the hinges groaned as if they were being pulled apart.

“Okay!” the man shouted. “All right! Just don’t pull the door off! It’s original to the house!”

Marie pressed her hand to the glass and a crack spread across its surface. “Sir. I have never cared less about anything in my entire life. Open the door.”

The man undid the locks but before he got the chain off, Marie pushed the door in like it was made of air, scattering the broken links across the floor. She swept in and stood glowering at the man. He put his hands up in front of him—as if it would do him any good.

He was a short, balding man with a splotchy pale complexion, sweating out the pits of his pin-striped pajamas.

Circe shut the door and Marie approached him. “Well, hello, Phillip.”

Nothing about this should have been funny, but I had to pretend to be fishing something out of my pocket to keep from laughing. He just didn’t look to me like his name should be Phillip. A smile danced across Circe’s lips, too.

“Marie,” he said curtly. “Just listen to me—”

“I should snap your neck,” Marie said.

“Marie! Damn!” Circe marched up and stood between her and Phillip. “Can we at least talk to him first? How is he going to answer our questions if he’s dead?”

“We can have a séance,” Marie said.

“Stop,” said Circe. “We came here for a reason, remember?”

I slipped my hand into Marie’s and pulled her back a little. “I’m not tryna tell you what to do, but maybe, if you want, just take it down a notch? At least until we talk to him?”