Page 60 of Wicked Believer
I shake my head, my eyes darting toward the closed door that blocks out the city.
Where the Righteous wait for me.
They blame me for Olivia’s death. Mark’s congregants’ deaths, too, apparently.
They’re right in any case.
I stare down at the disposable coffee cup in my hands, trying to let some of its warmth soak into me. The more I focus on it, the more the numbness inside me starts to dissipate.
When I was little, my mother and I used to drink tea together like this each morning. As soon as I was big enough to hold a mug, she’d made me my own tiny cup before she woke me—decaf, of course—so I wouldn’t sip nearly all of hers with a repeated, “Mama, peease?”
Her tea monster. That’s what she called me.
The tightness in my chest constricts.
Sometimes I wonder if she ever suspected what kind of monster I’d truly be.
A feeling of heaviness washes over me.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper, glancing down as I try and hide my tears.
Imani grabs my hand, squeezing it. “Don’t you dare believe that nonsense for a second,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t do this. You hear me?” Righteous fury fills her eyes.
Like to believe anything less of myself would be an insult to both her and me.
She’s lifted me up and helped me build my confidence at every turn, giving me chances to succeed when no one else would. Not even Lucifer.
I curl in on myself.
“Olivia’s family?” I ask weakly.
She swallows. “They’ve been notified. We’re paying for the funeral, and they’ll be compensated with—”
“Double it,” I say, without hesitating. “Whatever it is. Double it. Triple it, if you want. I never want them to have to worry about anything ever again. It’s ... it’s the least we can do.”
Imani’s eyes soften. “She knew the risks when she took the job, Charlotte.”
But did she really?
I definitely didn’t when I agreed to all this.
I look upward, shaking my head, a hard edge suddenly in my voice. “Yeah, but at what point does it become extortion when we offered her more money than she could ever reasonably expect to earn in her lifetime?” I stare directly at Imani, no warmth in my eyes as my mouth pinches into a sour expression.
Imani looks away, sighing dejectedly, though she doesn’t offer any excuses. For either of us. We both know who we chose to work for. “The media coverage is less than favorable right now. This doesn’t look good. For you or for Lucifer. There’ll be a lot more attention on the CFDA Awards, on both of you, after all this. The NYPD is involved now. There’ll be an official investigation, but we both know that the legal team will make sure that they don’t ...” Her voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging in the air between us.
That they don’t find anything.
Whoever did this is likely the same person or celestial who left that envelope full of anthrax for me. That much is obvious. They got past the penthouse and building security without a trace, but if they’ve been watching us that closely and they know I’m immortal now, then surely they would have known about Olivia, which means ...
This was meant as a warning to me.
My heart stops.
Somehow that makes it all so much worse.
My thoughts take a dark turn, to the ashy, terrified look on Xzander’s face as he pushed me out of his studio.Oh no.
Xzander. The studio. The police.
