Page 87 of Gunslinger Girl
“Pity, wait!” Max called, but she ignored him, dread propelling her closer. A ring of Tin Men kept the crowd at a manageable distance, though they moved aside for her without question. Pity barely registered this as she stopped a few yards from the booth, her momentum arrested by Daneko’s piercing, bitter stare. Defeat clung to him like a stench. He was gagged, and a fresh, ugly bruise covered one side of his face.
“Jones,” Siena said pleasantly, as if they were old friends. “I was wondering where you were at. Join us for a drink?”
Pity ignored the bounty hunter’s peculiar familiarity. In that moment, only one thing mattered: Daneko’s capture and what that meant.
Another Finale.
The vicious celebration raged around them as Pity’s heart pounded in her ears. Last night’s Finale was suddenly a mere appetizer, a tidbit before the main course in Selene’s revenge. Soon Daneko would be in the arena, shrouded in cheers, another of Selene’s examples.
“Too bad we didn’t make it back before the holidays,” Siena drawled. “He would have made a tidy present for Selene, don’t ya think? And I hear I just missed your best performance yet.” She glanced at her prize. “See what a trouble you are? Would have been easier on all of us if Selene didn’t want you taken alive.”
“I’ll handle things from here.”
Pity turned back to see the Tin Men parting again for Santino.
Siena stood to allow access to Daneko. “So long as I’m paid, he’s all yours.”
“Take him,” Santino instructed the Tin Men. “Not to the tombs—one of the special cells. Selene doesn’t want anyone getting impatient.” His raised his voice so that it carried above the din. “You all hear that? No one is to harm a hair on his head without Selene’s say-so.”
Pity couldn’t bear to listen anymore or watch as the gang leader was dragged away. Whether he went quietly or he was frantic with fear, she didn’t want to add the dreadful image to her rapidly expanding collection. She found Duchess and Max behind her, standing at the edge of the crowd, the only ones more interested in her than Daneko. Max took a step forward, mouth opening to speak, but Duchess touched his arm to stop him.
There were a dozen things she wanted to say, a hundred screams of frustration and fear building within. But no words came; they were lost to an understanding, an inescapable realization that she saw painted on Max’s face, too.
It was no longer a matter of if Selene would ask her to perform another Finale.
It was when.
CHAPTER 28
The summons that arrived the next morning came as no surprise.
Occupied with the digital displays set in her desk, Selene didn’t look up as Pity entered her office, escorted by Adora. The tight set to Selene’s lips showed she didn’t like whatever she saw on the screens. As Pity waited to be acknowledged, she stole a glance at Beau, but his expression was indecipherable.
He’s not going to be any more help here than Max was, she told herself. This is all on you.
Nearly a minute passed before Selene finally ruptured the silence. “Have you thought about what I asked you to do?”
“Yes.”
“And?” Dusky eyes flickered up. “Can I trust you to do what I ask?”
Pity knew the right answer—the one she needed to give if she wanted to maintain her position in Casimir—was yes. But no matter which way she tried to force herself to say it, the word stuck in her throat.
“The next Finale…” She had to say something, but every word tripped her like tangled roots. “You want me to kill Daneko.”
Selene leaned back and considered her. “Perhaps. But I have a more pressing task for you right now.” She tapped a screen on the desk. “After much coaxing, Patrick Sheridan has returned to Casimir.”
Sheridan? Pity frowned, confused. What does he have to do with anything?
“This took no small amount of effort,” Selene continued. “Following the attack, he came under the impression that Cessation, and Casimir, might not be the safest place for him.”
Adora gave a snort of laughter. “What a silly notion.”
Selene shot her a quieting look. “So I made some… concessions. Allowing a private bodyguard, increased security around him… and you.”
“Me?” Wariness trickled down Pity’s spine, sickly warm. “I don’t understand.”
“It was Patrick’s idea,” said Selene. “His campaign is floundering in the east. He needs my help, but he needs it without anyone thinking that’s what he’s come to Cessation for. Which is where you come in. As far as anyone will know, Patrick Sheridan is an overambitious, failing candidate, returned to Cessation to drown his shortcomings in gambling, drink, and the Theatre performer he’s taken a special interest in.”
