Vengeful (Villains #2)(102)
A wry smile cut across the vulpine face. “It was.”
“But not the last.”
“No,” said the EO, sinking into the chair across from him. “Not the last.”
Victor curled his fingers around his glass. “Who are you?”
“Think of me as a kind of guardian angel. You can call me June.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Ah,” said June wistfully, “real is a murky thing, for someone like me.”
The woman sat forward, and as she did, she changed. There was no hinge, no transition—the brunette girl dissolved, replaced by strawberry curls and dark blue eyes in a heart-shaped face.
“Do you like it?” asked June, as if she were asking his opinion of a new dress, not a distorted reflection of the only girl Victor had ever loved. “It’s the best I can do, considering the real one is dead.”
“Change,” said Victor tersely.
“Aw,” June sulked. “But I picked her just for you.”
“Change,” he ordered.
The blue-eyed gaze leveled on him, a challenge, a dare. Victor rose to meet it. His fingers twitched as he took hold of her nerves, turned the dial in her chest—but if the woman felt any pain, it didn’t register on her face. Her power—somehow it was shielding her.
“Sorry,” said June with a wan smile. “You can’t hurt me.”
A faint emphasis on the last word.
Victor leaned forward. “I don’t need to.”
He splayed his hand across the worn wood table, pinning her body to the chair.
A faint crease formed between June’s eyes, the only hint of struggle as she fought his hold.
“There are so many nerves in a human body,” said Victor. “Pain is only one of the possible signals. A single instrument in a symphony.”
A smirk fought its way onto the girl’s mouth. “But how long do you think you can hold me? An hour? A day? Until your next death? I wonder, which one of us will give up first?”
They were at an impasse.
Victor let go.
June exhaled, rolling her neck. As she did, the girl with the strawberry curls fell away, replaced by the brunette she’d been wearing before. “There. All better?”
“Why have you been following me?” asked Victor.
“I have a vested interest,” said June. “And I’m not the only one. There’s an EO in this city who would very much like to meet you. Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
Marcella Riggins.
The EO currently treating Merit like her own personal playground. The one who, against all odds, had yet to burn out.
“I see,” said Victor slowly. “So you’re just the messenger.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed June’s face. “Hardly.”
“And why,” he asked, “would I want to meet with Marcella?”
June shrugged. “Curiosity? The fact you’ve got nothing to lose? Or maybe—you’ll do it for Sydney’s sake.”
Victor’s expression darkened. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“No,” said June, and for once there was no mischief, no malice, in her voice. Her expression was open, honest. She hadn’t changed faces, but the difference was just as striking. “I do care what happens to that girl.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Everyone’s got secrets, Victor. Even our darling Syd. How do you think I found you today at Merit Central? She looks out for you, and you should be doing the same for her. I know you’re sick. I’ve seen you die. And we both know Sydney’s got a long life ahead. What happens when you’re not around to protect her?” The earnestness dissolved, replaced once more by that wry twist of the lips, that sly glint of light behind the eyes. “She’s a powerful girl, our Syd. She’ll need allies when you’re gone, and we both know you already killed her first choice.”
Victor looked down into his drink. “Is that what Marcella is, then? An ally?”
“Marcella,” said June pointedly, “is powerful.”
“What exactly is her power?”
“Come see for yourself.”
June swiped the battered paperback and pen.
“Tomorrow,” she said, scribbling the details on the inside cover. “And just so you know,” she added, rising. “When Marcella makes an offer, she only does it once.” She nudged the book back toward him.
“Don’t waste it.”
V
THE NIGHT BEFORE
FIRST AND WHITE
JUNE hummed softly as the elevator rose.
When she reached the top floor, she found two men in dark suits standing outside the penthouse door. They were new, and one had the poor sense to try to stop her as she passed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
June looked down at the hand on her shoulder. When she looked back up at the man, she was him, down to the last hairy knuckle and acne scar.
“I go where I please,” she said, her accent coming through in his deep voice.
The security pulled back as if burned.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he said, genuine fear flashing across his face. That—that was a pleasant change. She’d gotten surprise, shock, even awe once or twice, but never such a simple thing as fear. They hadn’t known who she was, but they knew what. An EO. And it clearly scared the shit out of them.