Page 123 of Amber Gambler

“You let Harrow take the fall.”

“Let me tell you, Bijou. I could feast off your fury for years. You’re gorgeous when you’re incendiary.”

There was no point in asking if Badb had crawled under the bed to safety or if Little had shoved her there to buy herself more time to escape. He wouldn’t tell me the truth. I already had what I needed.

Vindication for Harrow.

On that front, anyway.

“I know about the cameras.” I stoked that anger to fray the edges of his illusion. “I’m glad you’re dead.”

“See?” He stuck out his plump bottom lip. “That hurts my feelings.”

“You have what you need to wrap up your bargain.” I examined the room for clues in short bursts, trying to figure out how to escape. “Why not let them get on with it? Then you can go back to Abaddon where you belong to rot, and we’ll never have to see or hear from you again.”

“Okay, in the interest of preserving our friendship, I’ll admit the cameras were a bad idea.” He circled his wrist. “The getting-caught part anyway. That I hadn’t counted on. I underestimated you, Bijou, and that’s on me.” He drew his legs up to his chest. “Kierce is the problem, really. He sucks the fun out of any room he’s in. Seriously. How can you prefer him to me? I put a lot of work into making Armie handsome, loyal, mysterious. All the big-ticket items. But you turned your nose up at me—him. Should I have chosen pale, dull, and awkward? Kierce is a bumbling idiot, and you lap it up because he’s pretty and fits your spooky aesthetic.” He snorted. “Has no one ever told you that you can’t let your job define your life?”

Only every five minutes.

“Why does it matter who or what I find attractive?” I pushed off the wall. “Why me?”

“Lyle was the one?—”

“—who fell for your lies.” I couldn’t shake my disorientation. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“For you to die.” He cocked his head to one side. “That’s it. That’s all. Easy-peasy.”

“Are you crazy?” I barked out a laugh. “Scratch that.” I gestured to our surroundings. “I know you’re nuts.”

“Offering to scratch my nuts?” He whistled. “Guess our friendship really is back on.”

“Armie could have pulled that off, but not you.” I stepped closer. “Why doyouwant me dead?”

“Death isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“Kierce tattled about the fruit. I overheard him. Aren’t you curious what would happen if?—”

“No.” A warm pressure encircled my wrist. I glanced down, but nothing was there. “I’m not.”

“What if I make you a deal?” He stared at me as if he could read the words carved on my soul. “What do you desire?”

Unable to help myself, I slid my gaze to where Kierce and the others had been, their illusions anyway, but they were gone.

“Frankie.”

The punch of my name hit me hard, and I sucked in a gasp. “Did you hear that?”

“I don’t hear a thing.” Ankou hopped off the table. “Now, where were we? Oh. I know. Your desires.”

“Open your eyes.”

“Frankie.”

“What do you crave above all things?” He prowled closer. “Your family safe? Done. You want Harrow for your very own? Done. Kierce? Well, I can’t hand him over. His god is possessive. But money? Power? The answer to who birthed you? Where you came from? Who your people are? Those can be yours.”

“Please, Frankie, don’t go.”

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