Page 9 of Mud

The shape of her eyes was exactly right. Sharp, up-tilted, slightly softer than a cat’s. The color of them, that brown that mixed with gold to create a fiery orange, I saw only in my mind’s eye. The nose I’d drawn awfully—hers was smaller, rounder—but the shape of her lips was perfect, just as it was in real life. And the three marks on the right side of her face—one above the arch of her brow, oneon the highest point of her cheek right below the outer corner of her eye, and one below the corner of her lip, too. Yes, those I’d gotten exactly right, but the small scratches on the wall that were supposed to be her freckles looked like flies.

The face of the woman who put me where I am today. Who lied, cheated, betrayed me, and I was too obsessed with those fucking freckles to see it coming.

Regardless—the image of her was perfectly clear in my mind, and I thought it was going to be years until I saw her again, maybe even a decade. I was prepared to wait a lifetime for it, too, but my visitor had been right—once again. The Devil could make things happen against all odds, even in the Tomb.

The Devil was going to get me out of here tonight, and then I’d be free. As long as it took me to find her, I would.

My lips stretched and stretched, and my eyes barely blinked.

Finally, my life was going to pick up where it left off. The Tomb was about to drop to two hundred and thirteen inmates again.

I’m coming for you, sweetness.

Chapter 4

Rosabel La Rouge

Present day

My hands were sweaty, which was to be expected. I was inside a confined room with a siren, sitting right across from her, and as well as Redfire burned through compulsion magic, I was still nervous as all hell. I mean,look at her. Just the sight of her was enough to stop anyone in their tracks. Bright blue hair that could have been silk reached down to her hips. Wide blue eyes, and lips like they were made of cherry popsicles, every inch of skin smooth and pale and perfectlyperfect—not to mention her smile.

Fuck, that smile could end wars.

Or start them.

Clearing my throat, I looked down at the file in my hands again, reinforcing the magic I’d put over myself to keep her compulsions at bay. Redfire magic was very…chaoticin nature, and as such it was extra resistant at times, which was why Cassie had asked me to come in here in thefirst place. That, and I could pull off third-degree protective spells without much bother.

Iridian spells fell anywhere from the first to the fourth degree, the first being the weakest. Anybody could do first-degree spells, and the vast majority did second degree without difficulty. Third-degree took a toll on most mages, and fourth degree could only be performed by the most skilled and powerful ones.

Like my grandmother—she could hit you with fourth-degree spells all day without breaking a sweat. It’s why she had as much power over people as she did.

I had never managed a fourth degree before—not that I’d tried often—but I was plenty powerful, more so than most people my age. My magic was my most powerful asset.

It didn’t mean much against a siren, though. I still felt her energy coming at me in waves, gently crashing onto my magic as if it were its shore, before it retreated and came again.

And again, and again, and again…

“Will you please stop that?” I said, my face and voice perfectly composed, as always.

She smiled, hands folded one over the other and cuffed to the table by irons as thick as my forearm. “But I’m not doing anything.” And she batted her icy blue lashes at me.

“It’s illegal to use your compulsion magic on an IDD agent,” I reminded her again. She hadn’t cared the first time, though, so I wasn’t very hopeful.

“An IDD agent—but you’re so young! You look thirteen, dear.” Another blinding smile. “If this is the IDD’s idea of getting me to succumb to their?—”

My badge was on the table before she could finish her sentence. Not my first rodeo with this type of behavior soI liked to shut it down quickly. It always worked. They saw my face, my name, and my agent ID number—something only an actually IDD agent would have—and they never brought back thebut you’re so youngbullshit for as long as the interrogation lasted.

“Oh,” the siren said. “I see.”

“Please state your name for our records,” I said, putting away my wallet and the badge.So far so good.

“You have my name in your records,” she said, nodding at the documents I’d spread in front of me on the metal tabletop.

“I have your human alias in my records—not your actual name.”

She leaned back on her chair. The sound of the chains rattling made me want to flinch. The room was small, and except for the dark window you couldn’t see through on the left, there really wasn’t anything here, so sounds bounced back a lot against the high ceiling.

“It’s rude to ask a siren her name,” she told me. “Didn’t they teach you that in your fancy schools, Iridian?”

---