Page 82 of The Vipers and Their Vendetta

Dom rolls his eyes. “Could have fucking guessed. What are you doing here?” He sneers at me, his expression insanely punch-able, and turns to the tech. “Was he here when you arrived?”

“No, sir,” the tech says, and I grit my teeth.

Sir? Fuckingsir.What an asshole.

I can’t deal with this now, and maybe this has something to do with why Saint needs to see us. Turning to head out the door, my progress is halted by Dom’s hand on my arm.

“Why isyourtable the one that’s messed with? What have you idiots been up to?”

I wrench my arm free and mouthmalakaat him before leaving the room. I just called him a jerk-off in Greek and could have said much worse. If he comes after me, I’ll pin him against the wall and rearrange his annoying face.

He must have some sense of self-preservation because he doesn’t follow me and leaves me alone to stalk off down the corridor.

When I reach the mansion, Saint is pacing in the living room, and his face is paler than usual. “Where the fuck is Lex?” he demands.

I shrug. How the heck would I know?

Saint scratches his arm and resumes his pacing. “They’re messing with us,” he says. “The Preachers. They’ve done something to my skin, and they ruined my paintings.”

I frown and sign.How?

He growls. “With their dark magic and their rituals. Vani said they would.”

I laugh silently, and his face darkens like thunder. I take out my phone and type on the notes app. They don’t have any real magic. It’s bullshit. Don’t let them get in your head. They are messing with us, though. They ruined my table.

“Fucking pieces of shit,” he shouts as he smashes his fist on the coffee table in front of him.

He’s not wrong there. They are absolute bastards, but magic? No. I don’t believe that. More to the point, neither did Saint, so what’s changed?

I was making it for Vani,I write.

Saint reads those words and shakes his head as he scoffs. “Why, you idiot? Gonna nest with her? Play house? This has all gone on too long. She’s either got to learn her place or go.”

I shove him so hard, he staggers back. I point at him, and then, deadly serious, I draw a line across my neck and point at him again. Making sure he gets the message.

Laugh at me like that again, fucker, and I’ll slit your throat.

Saint doesn’t get to talk to me as if I’m stupid. He knows I hate that. I get treated as if I’m an idiot daily because I can’t speak. I won’t take it from him.

At first, rage flashes across his features, and I wonder if we’re going to fight, but then he looks at me, and his face falls. The tension flees to leave nothing but despondence.

“Merde,Zane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Fuck. I feel … weird. Everything is off. Nothing seems right.”

He’s not wrong, but I don’t believe it’s magic.

Lex?I mouth.

“No fucking clue. I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

The wind outside howls, and I go to the window. I frown; there’s a storm moving in. The sky is dark, bruised, and the air has that heaviness that means something big is on the way.

The trees bow and bend, and Saint joins me at the window.

“Are you sure this isn’t those fucking Preachers? Our things destroyed. My skin, which falls under the category of plague.” He smirks, trying to infuse humor into his tone. “A storm coming from nowhere. What next? A swarm of locusts?”

I glance out the window again, and a small shiver of unease hits. The skyisa bizarre color, and weather doesn’t normally move in this fast around here.We should get back to the college and find Lex, I sign.

“Yeah, things feel funky.” Saint gives an exaggerated shudder, but I have to force the smile, because they do.

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