Page 60 of Hell Hath No Fury

“Are you saying you have feelings for him?” I ask a bit more forcefully than planned.

She glares at me and shakes her head. “No. Good lord, no.”

I squint at her, relieved I don’t have to attempt to unpack any deep psychological shit right now while still confused about where this conversation is going. I wait her out, staring at her intently until finally, she adds, “It’s just a sense of familiarity with no real emotion attached to it. Kind of like that place in my head where I lived over the last few months. A black void of undistinguishable comfort.”

I know exactly what she means, having lived there a few times myself. “That’s where we go when we’re stuck in bad situations. A safe space to linger while we sort out our options.”

She gives me a grateful look. “I’m kind of sick of having to go there.”

“Me, too,” I respond truthfully. “But take some comfort in your ability to see the light when the darkness attempts to come for you.”

“But what if it comes again, and I can no longer find any light?”

I wrap my arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into my side as I reply, “I will always be your light.”

26

Hearts and Stones

Antonio

Bythetimewemake it to France, I’m starting to feel slightly bad about how I left things with Lilith. Not bad enough to reach out to her but bad enough to acknowledge that we’ve had our first fight, and at some point, she’ll have to apologize.

I chuckle at the very idea that she might apologize, and Agatha hits me on the arm. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”

I force myself to stop laughing and wave her off. “It’s nothing. Just delirious from lack of sleep.”

“I told you to take a nap.”

“Not all of us are blessed with the ability to sleep anytime, anywhere.”

“Surely a man of your extended years should have mastered the art of sleep by now.”

Scowling, I retort, “Take it back.”

Agatha just smirks. “Never.”

I stare at her for a long moment, briefly wondering if she’ll crack, and then quickly come to my senses. Agatha Moretti never cracks.

“I did doze off a bit,” I respond. “Should be in tip-top shape to see dear old Dad.”

“What did Dmitri say about your dad that has you racing halfway around the world to tend to him?”

“Just that he has spent my entire life working against me.”

“And this is news to you?”

I give her an annoyed look, then retort, “Of course not. But learning that he most likely played a hand in hurting Antoinette is going too far. I should’ve killed him years ago, but at least now, no one will miss him or care.”

“That makes perfect sense to me,” she replies with a blinding smile, then obviously done with the conversation, turns her attention out the window and mutters, “What is taking so long?”

“There’s often a queue this time of day.”

“You didn’t think to jump the queue?”

I laugh, sitting back in my chair. “The whole point was not to draw attention to myself.”

Glancing at me, she replies, “I suppose that makes sense. No point in taking out a billboard that you’re coming to kill someone.”

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