Page 56 of Taming Seraphine

When she obeys, I talk her through a guided breathing exercise to help her focus on the movement of air through her body. It’s a repeat of the meditation CD Anton made me listen to every morning while I was his apprentice.

Seraphine’s features remain pinched, as though she’s annoyed and thinks we’re wasting time meditating when we should be hitting the streets. She’s oblivious to the fact that she’s spiraling toward being a serial killer.

Hell, I still don’t understand why she stabbed a man in the eye for talking shit, but then, this is the same young woman who murdered eight men when only one of them needed to die.

The world doesn’t take kindly to serial killers even if they started out blameless. The state of New Alderney won’t care that she was twisted and bent and corrupted until her knee-jerk reaction to stress turned deadly. Those who failed to protect a minor are more likely to condemn her for not rising above her abuse, even though such a feat would be impossible. She’s full of righteous anger, but she’s lacking self-control.

By the time the breathing exercise is over, her posture and face have relaxed. It’s going to take more than one session of meditation to calm her mind, let alone soothe her spirit. I hope to hell that wiping out every man who assaulted her mother will give her the peace she needs to lead a murder-free life.

“Well done,” I say. “We’ll do this every day until the habit becomes ingrained.”

She opens her eyes and nods.

“How does that feel?”

“Better,” she sighs.

“Are you ready to tell me about these assignments?” I ask.

She bows her head. “What if you decide you don’t want to help me?”

My breath hitches. Compared to the poker massacre, what could she find so terrible? When she cringes, I remember that Anton trained her as a Lolita assassin. I don’t need to read the Vladimir Nabokov book to guess what the hell that entailed.

“Come here.” I beckon her over.

After a moment of hesitation, she shuffles across the mat, so we’re sitting so closely that I feel the heat of her smaller body.

“Would you prefer to tell me while on my lap?” I ask.

She crawls into my arms and sinks into my embrace. I tighten my grip and dip my head, inhaling her strawberry-scented shampoo.

My heart aches. Having her pressed against me is an unexpected comfort. I want to press a kiss on her temple and whisper that everything will be alright, but I stay silent. No matter how much I want to protect Seraphine, it’s impossible to give protection from her inner darkness.

“Talk.” My stomach twists into a knot of dread, thinking about what she will reveal.

Her situation was horrifying when it only involved the Capellos. Knowing that Anton is in the mix is like a knife to the heart.

TWENTY-ONE

SERAPHINE

I thought sitting on Leroi’s lap with my back resting on his chest would be calming. It’s anything but. Anxiety tightens the lining of my stomach, turning the omelet I just ate into lead bricks. I’m not so frightened about Leroi’s reaction. He’s a killer just like me, but I am worried he’ll think I’m damaged beyond repair.

“Seraphine.” His deep voice vibrates up and down my spine. “Nothing you could say would make me turn away from you. No matter how bad it is, I’ll still be here.”

He tightens his arms around my middle, creating a cocoon of trust. Maybe he’s right. He didn’t shoot me through the skull when I held a knife to his throat, and he didn’t even get angry when my second blade could have sliced through his shaft.

Closing my eyes, I lean back against Leroi’s strong chest and fall into a sense of calm. If I’m going to admit to what I’ve done, then facing away from Leroi is the best way to do it.

“Start where you left off,” I say. “Your driver took you to see your grandmother.”

“Alright.” I lick my lips. “Things got worse when Dad came to Nanna’s house with the same bodyguards. They took her away in one car, and I rode in the back with Dad.”

“Where was your brother?” he asks.

“Staying the night at his girlfriend’s,” I rasp.

“What did Capello say?”

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