Page 22 of Gunslinger Girl
“And why,” Selene continued, “did you bring her here?”
“Well, because, uh…” Max faltered.
“Because I asked them to.” Pity brushed by him, taking a few steps toward the desk. In a flash of movement, a handgun was leveled at her head.
“Stay right there,” said the gray-suited man. His tone was civil but as chilly as a winter wind.
Pity took a slow step backward. Common sense told her to keep quiet, but an explanation bubbled out anyway. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Selene moved around the desk, paying no attention to the man in the gray suit as she crossed in front of him. He sidestepped deftly, keeping Pity in his sights. A cold sweat broke out on the back of Pity’s neck. She said a silent prayer for intervention—from Santino, Max, the good Lord himself—but had the sudden and distinct feeling that she was on her own.
Selene’s expression was pleasantly neutral as she came closer, a hint of perfume preceding her like a warm breath. “Too rough for an easterner, too well fed to be a dissident. Commune worker?”
Pity nodded once.
“Seeking your fortune far from the dirt and hard work?” Selene smiled faintly. “Cessation has seen its share of runaways. Most don’t last long. Perhaps you should reconsider your stay here, Miss—?”
“Pity.”
“Pity?” Her head tilted in curiosity. “Not a very well-fortuned name.”
“It’s Serendipity, actually. Serendipity Jones.”
“Those two names are rather polar,” said Selene. “Which, pray tell, do you tend toward?”
“Right at this moment, ma’am? I’m hoping for the luckier one.”
Selene’s laugh was surprisingly melodious. “Take my advice,” she said. “Return home while there is still time to forgive your youthful foolishness. I’m sure you’re missed.”
Pity’s fear shifted to frustration. “With all due respect, ma’am, the best thing I’ve got waiting for me back there is a beating I may not walk away from. And if I do, things will only get worse.”
Selene stared at her for a moment, her long-lashed eyes blinking once. Without looking away, she called back over her shoulder. “Beau, would you put that thing away.”
The gun disappeared into his jacket. The intensity etched on his face did not. Pity was certain the weapon would reappear in a heartbeat if needed.
“So,” Selene continued, “you want to stay in Cessation.”
“I… do.” It was a half-truth at best, but if Selene noticed it, she gave no indication.
“And how do you expect to make your way? I’m sure a CONA-raised young lady such as yourself knows that little in this world comes free.” She lifted Pity’s chin with one dark-nailed finger. “How old are you? Has Flossie gotten a look at her yet?”
Pity jerked her head away. “I’m not interested in selling myself, ma’am.”
A flash of amusement crossed the woman’s face. “It’s not a calling for everyone, I suppose.”
“I didn’t run from hard work,” Pity said. “I’ll scrub toilets if that’s where the need is.”
Selene raised an eyebrow. “And that’s the best you have to offer?”
She felt her cheeks redden. “No. My mother was a sniper in the war. She taught me to shoot.”
A small smile appeared on Selene’s lips. “We do learn so much from our mothers, don’t we? Marksmanship is something you’re proficient in, then?”
There were better times for humility, Pity decided. “I’m the best.” So why didn’t you save Finn? The thought slithered into her mind before she could stop it, searing with accusation. She fought to remain focused on the opportunity presented. “But Olivia took my guns.”
It was a gamble, but one that was rewarded when Selene gestured. “Bring her weapons here, please.”
With unenthusiastic obedience, Olivia unclasped the belt and put it on the desk, then returned to her place beside Santino.
