Page 86 of Dreadful
The questions are too heavy to bear, so I focus on my other motive for being here. Gio heard through the grapevine that my biggest target will be at this show. My list is all out of order, though at this point, I’ll take my opportunities where I can. Revenge has always settled me. I’ve never been able to fix heartache, but rage is an emotion I can handle. I’m hoping to access that tonight so I can get one step closer to finishing my list.
Determination settles in my bones as I get ready for the understudy to come in. When they arrive, their light skin is flushed with excitement. They are humble and kind, and shorter and less bulky than Percy was. I don’t even have to evade wandering hands, leering glances, or lewd remarks. All that together makes resizing the costume a damn breeze.
I mentally check out as they make nervous small talk. It’s nice, mundane, and predictable. I can go about my business, letting my mind wander and my steady fingers do all the work. Over the past several weeks, I’ve learned to embrace the nice, mundane, and predictable when I can.
The priest is the third death on my hands. Each one has been easier than the last. Will I be callous and cold by the time I get to the end? Will it still be rewarding? Will I be okay if I don’t finish the list?
I’ve amended the list once before with Antonella. My Medusa tattoo still has a few snakes that I haven’t filled in yet, but she’s the only white one. Lately, I’ve been wondering if my sense of justice would be sated if I tattoo the last one in white, too.
Of course, I might not be lucky enough to finish the piece at all. Completing the symbolic ink on my arm isn’t what matters. My list is my main goal, and now I’m not just finishing it for me, I’m doing it for Gio, too. We’ve always been cut from the same cloth, he and I. If revenge is what he needs to be made whole again, then revenge is the least I can give him.
I put the finishing touches on the understudy’s outfit just in time for their courtesy call to the stage. They hop out of the dressing room, ready and eager for their debut. I’ll have to learn their name one of these days. Or maybe I won’t since my future is up in the air. My best-case scenario is that Gio and I flee town after this is over. Worst case? An enforcer puts a bullet through my skull before I can finish.
By the time I’ve tidied up the dressing rooms, set out late scene costume changes for the other actors, and reorganized my needle and thread collections, the show is almost over. The final curtain call buzzes over the backstage broadcast system, signaling the end of the show, and my nerves go up in flames.
Up until now, I’ve been putting off looking into the crowd, apprehensive about potentially taking out the most dangerous name on my list. I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified that Claudio could be here, but I know it’s time to check before it’s too late and I miss my chance. When I peek out from behind the act curtain, I find him instantly in the VIP section…with his nephew.
Panic shocks through me.
What the hell?
Sever sits in the same seat, front-row center. This time, though, he’s alert and sitting forward with his fingers steepled on top of his cane handle. It could be just the bright stage lighting that’s darkening the audience’s faces, but with his narrowed eyes and his hands partially hiding the rest of his expression, I swear he looks pissed off. Part of me wants to go to him and figure out why. The other part of me can’t get past the fact that he’s sitting with not just one, buttwonames from my list.
Why the fuck is he with them? Here, atmyjob? I thought he and Claudio couldn’t stand each other. And the last time I saw the other man, Sever was poised to tear him from limb to limb. I guess they made up.
The fact that Sever might still be Claudio’s “guard dog” makes my stomach churn. Bile creeps up my throat, but I swallow it back. I hang onto the curtain in front of me to keep my balance, and it ripples up the ceiling.
The actors trip over their lines, and I realize way too late that I’ve stepped out onto the stage. The spotlight isn’t on me, so I don’t think anyone else is paying attention, but I’ve set the actors off-kilter. My mind shouts at me to run backstage. Someone behind me harshly whispers my name, trying to rein me in. But I can’t stop gravitating toward Sever.
Then he glances at me.
And smirks.
It’s not the sexy, flirty grin he’s gifted me ever since he caught me at the bakery. It’s vicious and triumphant, like the cat that’s got the cream. His eyes flick down the row at his mother, Claudio, and the judge before meeting my gaze again. He’s…tauntingme.
I’m going to be sick.
“Talia!” Deon grabs the sleeve of my sweater dress and snatches me away from the stage. “What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your mind?”
Yes.
He knows it, too, and his large brown eyes soften. “Oh, honey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
Yes.
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
His lips purse. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Make sure everyone has everything they need for the night, and then head home, alright? Grief is tricky, Talia. Don’t underestimate it, or it’ll drag you down to the pits of hell and keep you there.”
Already there.
“Yeah. Right. I’ll just, um, take care of things and go.”
I don’t hear his reply as I stumble past him toward the dressing rooms. My blood rushes in my ears, my mind races, and an iron vice squeezes my lungs tighter and tighter.
All my plans. I almost ruined them for aman.
No, not “just” a man, my heart whispers.
