Page 14 of The Exorcism of Faeries

“Thedealis I bring you cadavers.”

He shrugged again and walked wordlessly back inside, slamming the door shut.

Grinding her teeth together, Atta shoved the cash into the pocket of her blazer and made to open the door. A movement over the bonnet of the car made her jump. It was Gold Stitch, looking menacing in all black and his plague mask.

“Jesus,” she muttered, clutching her chest.

“You’re the girl who seems to enjoy bringing me open bodies,” he said.

“I’m the woman who helps you further science.”Arsehat.

He stepped around the front of the car toward her, and Atta backed up, holding her keys in her hand the way her father taught her, pointy ends out between her fingers.

She watched him slide his hands into his pockets, and the mask tipped down like he’d noticed her makeshift weapon. Then he chuckled, a low rumble like the roll of distant thunder. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

That was exactly what a psycho would say. “What do you want?” she bit out.

“I need a body.”

Atta scoffed. “I just dropped one off. You obviously saw that from where you were lurking in the trees like a murderer.”

He laughed again and the sound of it licked up her neck. “I need another.”

“I didn’t even get paid enough for that one. You’ll get another when you get another.”

“You cut them open.”

He didn’t formulate it as a question, so she didn’t answer.

“Sloppily,” he went on, “but you open them.”

“My technique is none of your damn business.” She took another step back when he took another forward.

“I’ll pay you handsomely.”

She hated that her face probably betrayed how much she needed the money. How much she wanted to say no, not give into coercion, but there was still the rest of her tuition to consider, and what if the TA position didn’t work out?

“What’s the catch?”

He shrugged. He had nice, broad shoulders, and she shook that thought loose. “No catch.”

“I don’t believe you.” She raised her chin and got the distinct feeling he was grinning at her behind that mask like a wolf.

“Fine. I need another corpse like the one you brought in yesterday. One with signs of flora.”

Atta’s pulse beat loud in her ears because she’d only heard one thing: she was no longer expendable.

“Then I want my instruments back.”

Beneath the glow of the Society’s gaslights, she watched the small V of exposed flesh at his shirt collar and his throat as he swallowed, as he spoke. “Bring me what I need and I’ll give you the best tools money can buy.”

* * *

God, she was exhausted. And she hadn’t even studied or actually begun her TA job.

Had she even eaten today? Maybe some cereal crumbs, but she honestly couldn’t remember if that was yesterday or today and she had to meet her new professor-employer in less than ten hours.

Atta pulled into the car park and groaned. Maybe Imogen had some leftovers she could bum off her.

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