Page 65 of How to Seduce a Slender

“But,” Smith crouched down, hands on his pointy knees, “you didn’tget results.You nearly got Melody Deathless killed.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s none of my business! I didn’t know that the waitress would clock her. The witch was already itchy and twitchy before that waitress walked over. Not my fault that bimbo of yours don’t know how to listen to directions.”

Smith couldn’t help the reaction. It was pure instinct. Pure rage. It flooded him like a bolt of lightning to an iron pole on a mountain. Smith ripped Mr. Winters up by his ankles and chucked him across the ground. His prey smacked into a tree at full force, sliding down with a groan of pain.But not dead.He thundered across the ground, every step shaking the gray earth. When he loomed over Mr. Winters again, the man shrank further away. “Speak that way about her again. Go on, let’s see how far it gets you, Mr. Winters.”

“I told him to clear the room of staff, to make sure there were no witnesses. But she fucking insisted! She wouldn’t leave the floor. Then she came waltzing up like, ‘oh hey, don’t I know you? No, no, your face is familiar right? You must got one of those faces huh?’ My witch freaked out, bolting from the diner and leaving me with nothing to show for it. Ask your waitress why she was sticking her nose in other people’s business? If she had minded her fucking own, maybe she’d been in a better spot than—”

“I warned you!” Smith snatched Winters by the shirt. There was more than one way to get the answers he needed. He didn’t like the idea of feeding right there when he had a willing, desirable Melody at home waiting for him.But he wouldn’t even flinch at the idea of eating the mind of filth like Bellivenue Winters.

But before his maw could wrap around Winter’s head, a vision of Sebastian poofed into the space next to Smith. “Smith, I need you to return home.”

Smith sat his prey down onto his feet, keeping him within inches of his mouth but safe for now. “Why? What happened? I’m in the middle of something, sir.”

“I know, this takes precedence.”

Smith pulled a few tendrils of smoke from his prey, letting Winters see how truly fucked he was…and how close to death he truly had been. He thrashed in Smith’s hands uselessly. Smith squeezed onto his prey, a dark revelry in how Winters fell still with a wince.

“Sir, what happened?”

“There’s been an incident. Ms. Deathless was visited by the Witch of the Woods. She’s locked herself in your office. You are to come home immediately.”

Smith glanced at Bellivenue Winters quickly before answering again, “May I bring a hostage?”

“Of course. See you soon.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” But Winters was cut off as Smith ripped them from the spot. He had a portal awaiting him not far away. As he passed the gutters of The Iron Gullet, Smith snapped his fingers. Smokey tendrils and extra hands grew from the building and tugged the sludge free of its hiding place. Winters opened his mouth to protest but Smith blinked from one spot to the next till they were through a portal, outside the gates of the manor and outside of the city. Winters roared in fear as Smith tossed him through the open iron bars and locked them behind him. “I got rights, you know!”

“Are the rights here with us in the yard?” Smith sneered, motioning around him at the snowy expanse of Rosemont Manor. The sky was a charcoal gray, snow falling in large clumps. Smith snatched his foolish hostage from the ground and dragged him like a trash bag across the frosty clovers. “I think you’ll find your protections lacking here, Mr. Winters. I would highly recommend reconsidering mouthing off. The Lady of the Manor is quick to stab.”

Smith tossed his prey up onto the front porch of the manor before reaching for the door. Agatha ripped it open with Havershum floating on her heels. His heart lurched. The look on the banshee’s face told him things were more dire than Sebastian led on.

“Havershum, see our guest to the basement. Hang him by his toes if you must. I’ll see to his interrogation later.” Smith stepped over the crumpled body and flew through the house. He could taste a change in the air. It was tense and tangy like wet metal.

As he rounded his office door, everything stopped. Time was frozen. He passed through a locked door to find Melody surrounded by canvases and paper. A horrific scene ripped directly from her head. Two children, hand in hand, running through a dark wood. Orange sky, purple tree, red earth, the Nightmare Realm, he’d know it anywhere. Especially as he saw a pinned picture of Persephone stuck to the timeline board. In all her rotten glory, leaning on her walking stick, looming over the two children. What struck Smith the hardest was the canvas Melody was painting. Pencil, paint, and smudges across her cheeks and dress, her fingers coated in dark colors, she worked with her tongue pinched between her teeth.

It was a woman in silhouette. Melody on her knees, hunched as if in pain, head in her hands while a wolven image is ripped from her back. Tendrils of it clung to her frame. Red blood dripped from the tares, a vibrant, cherry red.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself,” he breathed.

Melody snuck her tongue back in her mouth as she sat up straight on her stool.

“I had a lot of things to process. I’m finding it helps.” She set the paint brush down with a heavy sigh of finality. Then she twisted to face him. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s expressive.” Smith tiptoed around other pieces to get to the stool. Melody slid to her feet as if to make room. As she did, the color drained from her face. Melody dropped like a sack of billiards, heavy and off center in a million places. Smith lurched, all his arms pistoning at the same time. He scooped her up by the armpits, elbows, back of the knees, small of her back, and near her ankles. “Sweet girl, you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

She shook her head numbly. “I tried—I was trying and doing what you asked when, dragons fuck, Smith, so much happened today and I don’t even have the words to explain.”

Guilt ran him through like a red-hot poker. He tugged her into his chest, dismissing all but his main two arms. Her arms immediately wrapped around him, burying her face in his chest.

“Well, firstly, a drink of water is in order. I doubt you finished all the water I ordered you…Melody?”

She shakenly raised a pinkie up to him. “Break it.”

“What?” He almost laughed. It took all his restraint not to burst at the seams as she pouted harder against his tie. Smith could feel how hard she was frowning by the way she tensed and shuddered with every rattling breath.

“I didn’t keep up my end of the deal. You get my pinkie.”

Smith slowly carted her to the fainting couch. Shadowy tendrils scooped up the papers, neatly tucking them in order onto his desk. Climbing onto the couch, he rested her against his chest. He curled his hand around hers, bringing her pinkie back down to rest among the other fingers. “Now, now, I never said I would take your pinkie. In fact, I distinctly remember not putting in a punishment clause.”

---